Member of The Society of Authors, Travelwriters UK, Association des Ecrivains bretons
Roscoff is an old town, a maritime chameleon. It is the familiar of commerce, piracy, fishing, war-time subterfuge, seaweed and thalassotherapy. Miniature stone cannons on the church tower point towards the old enemy England, via an open and surreptitious route of exchange that has served both sides of the Channel well. Vikings, corsairs, pirates, merchants, smugglers, chancers, spies and secret agents have profited from this stretch of sea and its snaggy coastline in war and peace, the frisson of precarious times adding to the satisfaction of transaction in getting the better of someone.