S(H)AVE DAVE - et hjemløse bogprojekt

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  • 06 marts 2014 kl. 14:10

    Omend forsinkelse, er projektet på rette spor.
    Det har taget længere tid end forventet at finde en engelsksproget redaktør bosat i Danmark. I mellemtiden har vi fået et par gode PR folk ombord, så bogen kan få mest mulig omtale.
    Endnu en gang Tusind tak for alt jeres hjælp! Vi håber inderligt at bogen lander inden sommer. Indtil da passer booomerang på pengene.

  • 20 november 2013 kl. 11:16

    Hej, først og fremmest: Tak fordi du støtter, eller overvejer at støtte, dette projekt! Her er et uddrag af Dave’s bog, så du kan se mere om hvad hans historie gemmer. Hjælp gerne med at sprede ordet i dit netværk og på de sociale medier.


    The place was small enough to avoid the legal restrictions on smoking. So, I took out my book, poured my beer and lit a cigarette. Ten minutes later, a woman’s voice interrupted me, I looked up and a woman, maybe late 20’s stood there with a cigarette in her hand, and in her glint in her eyes that reminded me of sunlight reflected off the barrel of a gun. She spoke again.

    “May I borrow your lighter?”


    She picked it up, lit her cigarette and put it back on the table. “Thanks”, then a pause, “excuse me are you English?”

    “I am but how did you know,?” then I realised, “the book”.

    “Actually”, she smiled, “it was the accent.”

    My accent on one word?. “I know my Danish isn’t perfect, but selvfølgelig (danish for certainly) isn’t that hard.” I was unexpectedly pissed.

    “It was ok ,just not perfect and combined with the book, I thought, ‘He’s English’.

    “Fair enough”

    Between asking for a light and this stage of the conversation, she’d taken her coat off and sat down, and we were soon chatting away like old friends. Of course, she wanted to know what I was doing in town.

    I like to get that out of the way as soon as possible as it generally proves to be fairly decisive in whether the relationship continues and in what direction it goes.


    “As what?”

    “Farmworker, landbrug medhjælper, as you say around here”.

    “You can to DK, to be a farm worker?”

    I came to DK, because I couldn’t get work in the UK.”

    “Why not?”

    “I have a criminal record”

    Here it comes, wait for the flash of concern across the face, quick grab of the handbag and surreptitious glances at the clock, ‘oh, is that the time. I must go. Nice to have met you’

    She didn’t seem concerned by my revelation, in fact, she seemed quite interested; even pleased. I’ve had that reaction before as well.

    “For what?”

    “Bank Robbery”

    “How long?

    “Eight years”

    “How old where you, when you started?”


    “And when you were arrested?”


    “How many all together?”


    You were caught for how many?”


    “Your sentence was how long?”


    “And you served?”


    “19-21-15-2-8-5! they sound like lottery numbers, you should try them.”

    “I do try them, every week” Actually, I don’t. Partly, because lotteries are a scam, but, also, because it never occurred to me, before she pointed it out.

    “Have you won?”

    “Not so much as a fucking krone.”

    She laughed, and asked the important question. “Did you make much?”

    “I did ok, but its a tough way to make an easy living. And if It’s hard to get, its impossible to keep hold of.”

    “19 is young,”

    “19 is young for robbery, granted,but that wasn’t my first crime. I was fourteen when I committed my first burglary. It was the storeroom of the liquor store, that my mum and step dad had been running. They were ‘stock discrepancies,’ and the company had found out that Step dad had a criminal record, we lived over the shop. So, we were losing job and home. Not, to mention my parents liberty, if that happened it meant I was going to have to live with my dad, no fucking way was that happening.”

    “He was stealing from the company?”

    “I doubt he bought booze or cigarettes, the whole time he worked there.”

    “So, the company was right to refuse him a licence?”

    I laughed, “Giving my parents the key to a store room full of booze and tobacco, is like letting a child loose in a chocolate factory.”

    “So, what happened then?”

    “We stripped the place bare. Also, because of daddy’s contacts and the fact we weren’t the only shop with depleted stock, lead on to other opportunities.”

    “From stealing vodka to robbing banks is quite a leap.”

    Smiling, I explained. “It took a while, but it seemed a logical progression in retrospect.”

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