Gonville and Caius College looking from Kings Parade
When I was about eleven or twelve my cousin Richard and I ventured into Cambridge on our own. The purpose of this first excursion was to buy a Meccano clockwork motor,. We boarded the double decker 151 bus at Huntingdon and set forth for a day of adventure. On that first trip we left the bus at Drummer Street before walking first to the toyshop in Mill Road. I can remember us returning via the fish and chip shop in King Street before the bus station in Drummer Street. I can’t remember anything else about the day, other that it was an enjoyable experience, it was after all, sixty years ago.
Over the next few years we would repeat the visits to this nearby city, as we grew older, it would be evening trips to the cinema or to perhaps a dance. Then we met the girls we married and the trips stopped.
The Great Gate at Gonville and Caius College Cambridge
Erlier in the month on a Friday Richard and I visited Cambridge together again, catching the Guided bus from St Ives Park and Ride.After walking from the bus station it was into Wetherspoons in Andrew Street for a quick bite to eat and a cuppa. I was writing a short piece about Gonville and Caius College and wanted some photos, so that was our next port of call. Richard had been a regular visitor to Cambridge when he was working and knows a lot more about the colleges than I do. He worked for a company hiring access platforms so would be lifting stone masons and builders often to roof level to work.
We ambled along Trinity Street then St John’s Street to the junction with Sidney Street at the Round Church. Just past Sidney Sussex College a right turn took us into Green Street and the short walk back to Trinity Street, then along Kings Parade. Since I used a photograph of The Grasshopper Clock on the cover of Killing Time in Cambridge I like to keep an eye on it. We had a good look at the Grasshopper Clock at Corpus Christi College, before making our way towards the Guildhall via Benet Street.
Corpus Christi Grasshopper Clock Cambridge
It is good to see that Rosalind Franklin’s name and a few others have been added to the blue plaque on the wall of the Eagle pub commemorating the discovery of DNA.
The New Blue Plaque at the historic Eagle Pub
The History of the Eagle
Near the Guildhall, a very curious looking statue took our eye I had noticed it before but had only given it a cursory glance. It was difficult to make out what or who it was of, I found out later after google research that the statue in Guildhall Street was of Talos by Michael Ayton. Talos was a legendary man of bronze, guardian of Minoan Crete.
Statue of Talos Guildhall Street Cambridge.
Our next destination was Norwich Street, where one of our great grandfathers had lived in 1921, it was a fair walk for two old men. On the corner of Norwich Street and Hills Road is the controversial Statue of Prince Philip, as bad as it is thought to be, it is probably slightly more lifelike than the statue of Talos.
The soon to be gone statue of the late Prince Philip
We looked at the House where Great Granddad lived then made our way via Francis Passage and Bateman Street back to Hills Road, the bus back into town saved our legs. After a coffee it was back to Drummer Street and a stroll in Christ’s Pieces, before boarding the bus back to St. Ives.
We had a great day out in Cambridge and a trip we intend to repeat in the future.
I am, as I am sure regular readers of my blog know, a Peter Lovesey fan. I am not sure if I have read all of Lovesey’s Peter Diamond books but if I haven’t, there can’t be many I’ve missed. The focus of this story is a half marathon race, ‘The Other Half’, which takes place in and around the city of Bath. Maeve Kelly’s accident with a Toby Jug prompts a series of events leading up to and intertwined with the race.
However, it is the disappearance of another female runner during the race that starts Peter Diamond’s hunt for initially her, in Bath’s underground quarries and then for a murderer. The plot is multilayered the setting in Bath as in most of Lovesey’s novels fascinating. I seem to learn something new about the city every time I read another of his books; if Mr Lovesey doesn’t help Bath with tourism then I would be very surprised.
The story involves modern slavery, people trafficking and a wealthy Russian couple, it is full of the unexpected, with twists and turns until the final conclusion reveals the remaining answers to the reader.
Sometimes I find I need to read a little of a book to find its rhythm, usually once found, the read becomes easy and the book becomes a real pleasure, this was the case for me with Death at the Auction.
The story is set in the Georgian town of Stamford, the action starts in the sales room of one of its auctioneers.
Grant’s, is a family-owned business; Felicia Grant is the unfortunate auctioneer confronted with the last-minute addition to the auction, the lot of a cupboard. However, it is the cupboard’s contents which start the search for a murderer.
Felicia finds herself drawn into the investigation. Initially she is at odds with the local police in the shape of Detective Sergeant Pettifer and Detective Inspector Heavenly but as the body count increases she eventually finds herself collaborating with them.
Stamford is somewhere local and to a degree familiar, a place I keep meaning to visit more often and for longer. It is an ideal setting for this book.
The story is well crafted and an excellent who dunnit, the outcome is unpredictable.
Elly Griffiths at Manea signing my copy of the Jason Stone.
I was a little surprised to discover that best-selling author Elly Griffiths was visiting the small nearby Fenland Village of Manea as part of her book launching tour for, ‘The Last Word’.
Norwich Cathedral was the next stop later in the day.
My first surprise on arrival at the venue was a very full car park behind the hall, it was a good sign. I had a struggle to find a parking space. After taking the last vacant chair in the hall, reserving it with my coat I bought a copy of The Jason Stone, the second in the Ruth Galloway series, Crossing Places is the first.
Niche Comics Bookshop in Huntingdon and David Learner had organised the event, Angela and Guy Makey of Niche Comics, were there, they are smashing people.
The hall was packed with enthusiastic Elly Griffiths fans. David Learner introduced Elly and asked the questions her fans wanted to hear answers to.
Elly introduced, The Last Word, her thirtieth book before reading a short tantalising extract from it. Afterwards she spoke more generally about her writing, mentioning that Elly Griffiths is not her real name but the pen name. Domenica de Rosa, her real name was deemed too far-fetched by her publishers to be used as the author. There were a lot of questions from the audience, the ones David hadn’t asked. Druids, Sea Henge, Flag Fen and Dendo Cronology were discussed in connection with The Crossing Places, the first Ruth Galloway novel.
A long queue formed for the book signing after the very interesting talk by Elly, I managed to get pole position and The Jason Stone signed. I had mentioned that I had written a book featuring time travel, she had let slip her new series would feature time travel. She signed my copy, to a fellow time traveller.
Angela Makey had made a cake it was delicious.
David Learner hoped that events like this one would put Manea on the map, I hope it does and look forward to more book tours.
While building a snowman with her two children, Harriet Smith finds the body of a man in a snow filled ditch near her isolated cottage. To be precise it was Barnie the family dog who found it.
What follows is the hunt for the identity of the body, why and how it came to be where it was found. In a way the story resembles peeling an onion as each layer is removed another lurks beneath it. Peeling this onion to reveal a murder are Detective Inspector Samantha Freeman and Detective Sergeant Jenny Newcombe.
The plot twists and turns, complicated by not only family jealousies, deceit, abuse and violence but the problem of juvenile delinquents.
The characters are well drawn the scenes well described, I read this book quickly, a real page turner. I found it to be an unusual and enjoyable read.
May Morrigan lives in her large Blackheath Home with her very elderly mother (Minty) and friend Fletcher, also known as Barbara Bouvier, the other two members of the household are May’s two miniature dachshunds, Bess and George. That is the straightforward part of the book.
The story starts at May’s bookshop when a mysterious text message appears on the phones of everyone in the bookshop. The action is non-stop from that point forward, weaving in and out of unconvential lifestyles and relationships.
Murders follow the receipt of cryptic text messages, which prompts May and her friends to try to track down the murderer.
The scenes are wonderfully set and the descriptions paint vivid pictures of the action. The characters particularly the lusty Minty are interesting and far from run of the mill.
This is the most unusual, funniest book I have read in a long time and one of the most enjoyable ever.
I am not normally tempted by historical novels; those more historical than the 1930s, that is but it was the promise of a murder mystery that swung the balance. The story is set in the early eighteenth century West Country and mainly in Bristol.
Miss Coronation Amesbury leaves her village in Wiltshire to seek her fortune in Bristol. The coach journey alone in atrocious weather is an adventure in its self. Her arrival in this bustling port city following a difficult overnight stay in Bath is not an easy one for her and a great shock after village life.
The recent horrendous murder of several young boys haunts Bristol. We follow Coronation as she looks for work in what she hopes will be her new home and her search for the perpetrator of these horrendous crimes.
The time, place and the events are beautifully painted we can see it all in our minds eye, a warts and all view of a bustling Bristol with its busy port during the era of slave trading. The story is well told and I found myself neglecting important tasks to finish the book, I struggled to put it down until I read those two final words, “The End”.
I along with two of my fellow Whittlesey Wordsmiths, Cathy Cade and Wendy Fletcher, were priveleged to have short stories published on Marsha’s blog. She has now collected short stories first shown on her blog and published them in a book which is available as a paperback and on Kindle.
Fiction relaxes and stimulates intelligent, busy people, as social media and games can’t. A professional commuting to work or waiting for the next meeting is too busy to read a long novel, but they might be looking for the next book for an after-hour reading.
Each story in the new book, Story Chat: Online Literary Conversations: Series of Short Stories and Ruminations, takes three to five minutes to read, making it the perfect book for well-educated readers who love reading fiction in short spurts. Some of the authors are just getting their literary feet wet, but many of the Story Chat authors already have published longer novels.
“Daily, we miss out on a valuable 24 minutes waiting on other people.” Patricia Murphy Irish Independent.
Everyone browses on their phone, but according to one life coach, reading is an effective way to use those minutes. Bookstores at airports, near subways, and offices where people wait carry a myriad of reading choices. Why should an intelligent reader choose Story Chat: Online Literary Conversations over a magazine or a novel?
My colleague Carmen called her quick fiction “mind candy.” Her “mind candy” came out during breaks between presentations, when she traveled, or when she needed to rest her brain.
Anthologies like this one introduce book consumers like Carmen to many authors quickly. Each story entertains yet has a deeper vein for the perceptive reader. At the end of each story are three or four quotes from previous online readers.
Online readers had this to say about Story Chat: Online Literary Conversations.
“I loved not only reading brand-new stories, but the interaction between readers was also great.”
“There was an excellent mixture of genres.”
“The balance is perfect. There is a good mixture of male and female writers from all over the world.
Story Chat stories were first published on AlwaysWrite.blog. They covered working and retired adults’ topics like dealing with dementia, bullying, nursing home care, social services, PSTD, surviving as an x-con, changing jobs, single parenting, and finding romance. Most of the stories have surprise or open endings. Some stories are realistic, while others mix in paranormal.
The first readers of these stories online were writers, social workers, librarians, lawyers, psychologists, professors, and teachers who each wrote an in-depth analysis of each short story in the comment section. The author and readers bantered back and forth online like they were sitting together in a book club host’s living room, enjoying their favorite beverage and snack. Each author left with new knowledge and a Mona Lisa smile.
Marsha Ingrao
Story Chat: Online Literary Conversations: a Series of Short Stories and Ruminations is Marsha Ingrao’s first experience as a contributing editor. Previous works include a chapter in This Is How We Grow (2023) by Yvette Prior, Images of America: Woodlake, published by Arcadia Publishing (August 13, 2015), available on Amazon. She has had a blog since 2012 with over 1,600 posts. In addition, Ingrao has had numerous poems and articles published during her twenty-five-year career as a teacher and educational consultant.
I usually get to see my brother most weekends, one Sunday he suggested we visit the SOE Barn at Tempsford.
I had been aware of the Special Operations Executive (S. O. E.) for a long while, initially from memory, by reading about the British secret services during World War Two. Until I attended a lecture as part of a Huntingdonshire History Festival in 2019 from memory, I was unaware of the very local connection to my home town Huntingdon.
The SOE had a base in Godmanchester, Farm Hall, where SOE agents were trained and housed until they were taken to Tempsford Aerodrome near Saint Neots. From Tempsford they were flown to Europe at night either to be dropped by parachute or landed in Lysander aircraft covertly. Once in Europe behind enemy lines they would undertake sabotage missions to destroy infrastructure or carry out espionage.
It was dangerous work and casualty rates were high not just among the SOE personnel but also among the airman delivering and collecting them.
I suppose that as the work of the SOE was clandestine and shrouded in secrecy it should have come as no surprise that the SOE Barn would be less than easy to find. My brother typed the Post Code into his sat nav and we started the journey from his home nearby. There were no helpful signs giving any clue as to its position before we fetched up in the village of Tempsford. A look around the village revealed no helpful signs either. The first people we asked were not local luckily a man walking his dog knew of the barn and gave us instructions on how to find it back the way we came, a pull in off the road before the railway crossing a sort of semi layby.
We passed through a metal gate and walked along a concrete path that could have been part of the perimeter track of the old aerodrome, after walking for some time with no sight of the barn it seemed that this wasn’t the way after all. We were on the point of turning back to retrace our steps when a young couple approached from behind we waited for them and asked if they knew where the barn was and for directions. They told us the path was the correct one and offered to show us where the barn was, an offer eagerly accepted.
A simple memorial outside the barn. Planted next to an Oak tree it reads in memory of the Polish Servicemen in WW2
Inside the Barn
In remembrance
The Barn was a surprise with nothing on it to mark it out there was no door and you could walk straight in. There were a few trees in the grounds with memorial plaques. Inside much of the wall space at a lower level housed wreaths and photos commemorating some of those passing through here, many of them didn’t return. After spending some time reading the material on show and looking at the photos, we left walking the half mile back to the car.
A remembrance
A quiet, sobering place, a memorial of sorts, perhaps it could be better but possibly for the people who really matter, the relatives of those who passed through Tempsford, it is enough.
After the book’s shocking start, we share the events leading up to and following a life-changing experience.
Leora is one of a very unusual pair of twins, her childhood, teenage years and the life which follows is chronicled in detail. The story gives a vivid picture of Leora, her friends, loves and family, while exploring the relationships with and between them.
In part, this is a psychological thriller, a story with elements of the paranormal, exploring a controlling relationship and the ultimate destructiveness of jealousy. However, it is Leora and Ben’s enduring love for each other, which is at the very heart of this novel.
We have to wait to the very end to see how they move forward.
I was sorry to have missed an author event with Elly Griffiths in Huntingdon organised by Niche Comics Bookshop but it did put Elly’s name on my radar. With the name Elly Griffiths lodged firmly in what passes these days as my memory, I looked in the local library. Picking up a copy there of The Crossing Places, Elly Griffith’s first novel in the Dr. Ruth Calloway series.
Elly Griffith’s, Dr Ruth Calloway is a Forensic Archaeologist, and lecturer at the North Norfolk University. she is called in to help the police when bones of a young child are discovered buried in a salt marsh, close to Ruth’s home. The man requesting her assistance is Detective Chief Inspector Harry Nelson, a man trying to solve the mystery of a child who disappeared ten years earlier. The book is well written in as much as the characters are finely drawn and believable. The landscape and the locations are described with great skill.
However, the plot could be better. This is I understand Elly Griffiths first crime novel, I will try some of her others, to see if she has addressed, what was in my opinion a serious shortcoming.
This remarkable book is a real thriller, which gradually draws you into the life of Kate and the relationship she has with her husband. The troubled relationship with her parents and siblings during childhood also form part of the plot.
The story starts when Kate’s life gradually starts to disintegrate before her, a slow-motion train crash of events that turns her world upside down. As the reality of Kate’s situation starts to unfold, the search for the truth and answers to questions that emerge during that search, kept me reading. I was always spending more time reading than I had allocated myself for the activity, other projects and important jobs were put on hold until I had finished turning the pages. Yes, it is a good read, a damn good read, well it certainly was for me. Now to get the things done, I had neglected to finish reading this book.
Although over the years I have watched several episodes of Morse on TV, this is the first of Colin Dexter’s books, (Morse’s creator), I have actually read. This crime story was adapted for TV but with a different title The Secret of Bay 5 B and from my memory it varies quite a bit from the book (note to self re-watch the Secret of Bay 5B then compare and contrast).
For a start I found Dexter’s style a little tricky but once I had found the rhythm of his writing it was an easier read. Having seen the Morse programmes on television and John Thaw’s portrayal as the man himself the picture of Morse in our minds is John Thaw’s portrayal, as is Kevin Whately’s, Lewis. If I had read the books first the TV Morse might be an intruder but there isn’t enough of a description of the man evident in the book to contradict John Thaw.
The story is convoluted and a real puzzle, the action centres on a Fancy Dress New Year’s Party in the Haworth Hotel. The disguises worn by the guest’s in the form of their costumes complicates identification and the rapid departure of guests after the event and false identities are other obstacles thrown in the path of Morse and Lewis’s investigation.
It was a good read and an interesting one. I will seek out more of Dexter’s books to read and review.
The Lady in The Van, Angela Harris as Miss Shepherd. Photo credit Stamford Shakespeare Company
Our first encounter, my wife and I’s that is, with Tolethorpe Hall and the Stamford Shakespeare Company was in 2019, when my brother in law invited us to join his family outing to watch Blithe Spirit, my son had given me a ticket as a birthday present. It was an absolutely brilliant performance, with Angela Harris excelling in the role of Madam Arcarti. Since then we have made a point of making a yearly visit except when Covid intervened.
The Lady in the Van, is based on true events, Miss Shepherd drove her van into Alan Bennett’s life during 1974 remaining there within his garden for the next 15 years. Alan Bennett’s relationship with his guest, for want of a better word and Alan would no doubt have found one, was an uneasy one. He described Miss Shepherd as a “bigoted, blinkered, cantankerous, devious, unforgiving, self-centred, rank, rude, car mad cow.” The play extracts the humour from the situation, together with a profound sadness as Bennett tries to piece together the events that led to Miss Shepherd living as a tramp in a van.
The Two Alan Bennetts Steve Cunningham 2 Paul Beasley 1. Photo credit Stamford Shakespeare Company
The production was fantastic, Paul Beasley and Steve Cunningham excelled as the two versions of Alan Bennett, both had perfected Alan Bennett’s voice and I couldn’t distinguish any difference between them. Angela Harris played Miss Shepherd brilliantly. The rest of the cast were great too making it a fully satisfying performance.
Other outstanding features of the Stamford Shakespeare Companies productions at Tolethorpe, are apart from the excellent cast, costume design and professionalism of the whole team but also the fantastic set designs and construction. This year’s set was as impressive and innovative as ever.
The stage
It was a truly wonderful night out.
If you would like to see it for yourself here is the link:
Triggered by events beyond her control Emily’s life has been changed,. In a short space of time the certainty and the structure of her existence, as she knew it suffers devastating changes. She decides to start anew and in an attempt to get her life back on track moves to Wicken, a village some distance from her previous home. There Emily rents a flat in a converted mansion, hoping to be able to rebuild her life away from Cambridge and her previous life.
A close friendship with a new neighbour, Joanne and her two young children helps Emily to start moving on. The only dark cloud is Joanne’s relationship with Matt, a relationship that causes Emily great concern for her new friend and Joanne’s children.
The tension builds as we turn the pages and race towards the unexpected ending.
The book is well written the descriptions and emotions expressed are exceptionally crafted. While we read we inhabit Emily’s, mind seeing the world through her eyes, sharing her thoughts and feeling her tension.
I am a great fan of Alison Bruce and have enjoyed everything I have read of hers, I Did it For Us is no exception, it is a remarkably good book.
I have been writing short stories ever since joining the u3a and Whittlesey Wordsmiths, arguably Cambridgeshire’s most prolific and successful writing group. My first story was from memory, Tideline, the prompt was beside the sea, strangely enough, I found the prompt tricky. When I was about three or four I ran into the sea at Clacton, before either of my parents could stop me, a kind stranger saved me from drowning. Even now I can still see the water coming over my head and the distant shoreline. My youngest daughter would have been about the same age, at the time we were paddling at Heacham, I think. She was standing close by me, nearly within touching distance, when a wave appeared out of nowhere, knocked her flat and she was dragged away, the water was nearly up to my waist when I got to her and pulled her out of the water.
There is a real mixture of genres and topics George’s stories are pretty much in the adult spectrum, mine range through children’s to detective and mystery. Three Shadrack Bones mystries are included in this collection.
I will get the Kindle version sorted out in the next day or so but if you prefer a paper copy the link to Amazon is below if you don’t live locally. If you are anywhere near Whittlesey I should have copies in stock at a discounted price next week, just add a comment and I will get back to you.
We find Megan Youngblood living in a care home, it quickly becomes apparent that she is severely disabled, unable to speak and has very little physical movement. However, her sight, hearing, sense of smell and touch, as is her brain are in good working order.
As Megan lays immobile, isolated from family, at the mercy of her carers not all of who care, she recalls her life, her career as a concert pianist in her thoughts, recounting her life’s highs and the all too frequent lows. The recurring thread is her enduring love for her childhood sweetheart Gideon. Interspersed between episodes of her autobiography, are accounts of the care Megan receives and the all too frequent lack of it. The staff are overworked, poorly regarded, under resourced and in some cases cruel. As the story moves on we learn of the relationships Megan has formed, how they progress and some end, discovering also the train of events leading to her arrival in this unsatisfactory care home. We hope desperately that at some stage Megan will find a way out of these terrible circumstances she finds herself trapped in.
It is well written book, engaging and difficult to put down. I cannot say which genre it belongs to, it combines a love story, mystery and certainly a crime story, all skilfully intertwined.
I found it a brilliant read and stayed up late one night, well just into the next morning to finish it.
On the face of it, travelling to Cambridge on a rainy day would seem an unusual choice. Apart from visiting the street where one of my Great Grandfather’s lived at the time of the 1921 census (thanks to the help of a lady in the local u3a Genealogy group) I wanted to see how the city appeared in the rain, for purposes of research. Arnold Lane keeps nudging me hoping for a return and in response I have written a couple of tentative chapters.
How was Cambridge in the rain? Wet is the answer. I got off the bus at New Square rather than Drummer Street, thinking that Greggs would give me a bit of shelter. Hopefully, the rain would die down a little over a coffee and roll. Foolishly, I had left the umbrella in the car at St Ives; I remembered it once I was on the bus.
The rain was having none of it and carried on relentlessly after I left Greggs I crossed over to Wilkos and bought a cheap brolly. Even the threat of an umbrella didn’t stop the rain. Such is the nature of research, I had once driven from Cambridge to Heacham in the rain, recording it all on my dash cam for research, my wife thought I was mad, she still does.
I found the house in Norwich Street where Great Granddad had lived, took a look at the outside and set off back to the top of the road. There was a most unusual delivery van parked up further along the road, it had four wheels was pedal powered with an electric motor to assist. I had a chat with the driver; he said it was okay in windy weather particularly if it had a full load, which surprised me, it looked very lightweight and likely to catch the wind.
Pedal-powered deliveries in Cambridge
The bus around the corner in Hills Road, delivered me to Emmanuel Street; I had a short walk to the Grand Arcade and my next destination, the Central Library. There was an exhibition of life size animated dinosaur models in the arcade, I stopped and photographed them before spending an hour writing in the library.
Pterodactyl
More Dinosaurs
Benet Street, was next on the list to visit, I wanted a look at the damaged Grasshopper Chronophage at Corpus Christi College. It is a sad sight, to see this beautiful clock stilled and the grasshopper unable to munch through the minutes.
The damaged clock
Close up of the Grasshopper clock in happier times
It was time to return home so it was back to Drummer Street and to catch the bus back to St Ives. I was saddened by the damage to the clock whose picture occupies the cover of my novel, Killing Time in Cambridge. Hopefully, it can be repaired and the grasshopper put back to work, I know Arnold hopes so too.
A beautiful, black eyed, blond woman; walks into Philip Marlowe’s office and into his life. The blond, Mrs Clare Cavendish, daughter of a fabulously rich perfume maker, hires him to find a missing man, a man who is not her husband. Will he find this man, and what is this man’s connection to the woman looking for him? It is an intriguing story seeing Marlowe tangling with the rich, famous and the criminal underworld of Los Angeles, some of the characters fall into more than one category, some of them into all three.
As long as I can remember I have been a fan of Raymond Chandler and his hero Philip Marlowe. I don’t know if my first encounter with Marlowe was in a book, watching Humphrey Bogart play him in the Big Sleep on the silver screen or Chandler’s books dramatised on Radio 4, with Ed Bishop as Marlowe. Since then, Marlowe has lurked in my subconscious.
Chandler’s style is something I admire the one line descriptions are brilliant, the plots are tangled and interesting Philip Marlowe is always in the thick of the action, there is usually a fascinating woman involved, often a femme fatale.
Poodle Springs was partly written when Chandler died, it was finished by Robert B Parker, his completion of Poodle Springs is seamless Parker wrote some other Marlowe Novels I haven’t read any these yet but they are on my “To Be Read” list.
Parker and I are not the only people who think there is more in the tank where Marlowe is concerned. I have read one or two Marlowe books by other authors; I can’t say that any I had read were anywhere near as good as Chandler’s originals. That is until I read The Black Eyed Blond; Benjamin Black’s Marlowe is a damn good likeness to Chandler’s, even when stood next to him in the bright California sun.
We can’t visit the time when Marlowe walked the mean Streets or even those Streets themselves as they were then but they seem real in our imagination as we turn the pages, both in Chandler’s originals and in Black’s, Black Eyed Blond. I hope we see some more Philip Marlowe novels from Benjamin Black.
Oliver Cromwell, ‘warts and all’ painted by Samuel Cooper painted in 1656(public domain)
Oliver Cromwell is Huntingdon’s most famous son and has been voted England’s greatest man. However it is not until very recently that Huntingdon acknowledged him as a worthy citizen of the town.
It is said that it is the victors that write the history books and although Cromwell and the Puritans won the Civil War, establishing a republic for the first time in these islands, the restoration of the monarchy was ultimately a defeat. The Monarchists were the ultimate victors and until the nineteenth century Cromwell had been painted in various shades of black. It was only when historians took a more balanced view of the Civil War and Cromwell that; the acknowledgement of Cromwell’s achievements and his contribution to our parliamentary democracy became appreciated.
The restored monarchy in a very short space of time became the model offered to and rejected by Charles the first. Had he been less arrogant and accepted what was offered by Parliament, it would have saved many lives, his own included.
Back to Cromwell, he grew up and was educated in Huntingdon, he was for a time its Member of Parliament. He fell out with the town, when it became what was known as a Rotten Borough and moved to St Ives. From the time of the restoration until recently, Huntingdon wanted little to do with his memory.
All Saints Church
Huntingdon was in Cromwell’s time a much smaller place but then as now The Market Square is flanked on one side by All Saints Church; to the right of the church facing it from across the High Street is what was the Old Grammar School, now the Cromwell Museum. The building itself was rebuilt in the nineteenth century but where it stands is where Cromwell was educated. Opposite the museum is the Falcon Inn, the headquarters of the Parliamentary forces. Standing to the left of the Falcon and directly opposite All Saints Church is the Town Hall, in Cromwell’s time an earlier building stood on the same site.
The Old Grammar School now The Cromwell Museum
One of the signs
Such was the town’s antipathy to its favourite son that it dithered and delayed about erecting a statue of statue of the man, instead Cromwell’s statue was accepted by St Ives where it still stands.
Over the years various centenary celebrations of Cromwell were shunned by Huntingdon’s town council despite their popularity with the townsfolk and visitors but things have changed.
The Falcon
Bench and litter bin
Street furniture bearing a motif of his hat, a Roundhead helmet and his signature together with commemorative information signs are in place within the market place and the surrounding streets.
Tree seat
Outside the Town Hall
Oliver, as far as Huntingdon is concerned, it seems, has come in from the cold, at last.
I have been for as long as I can remember unconvinced about the value of the British monarchy, for me the institution had about it a great negativity. Why is the best choice for part of our government; the head of state, an accident of birth?
My view of the monarchy was and still is that it is a thoroughly rotten institution, I had however reserved judgement on the individuals that comprise the sprawling costly entity that is the royal family. They seemed to be more like a group of soap opera celebrities and as time has gone on with their seemingly petty squabbles, (the ones I am aware of that is,) making headline news, more so. As I paid little heed to the individuals concerned most of the mindless tittle tattle has passed me by.
Norman Baker forensically destroys not only the institution itself but the reputations of much of the large and sprawling monarchy. He highlights tax dodging, a scandalous waste of taxpayer funds, dishonesty and hypocrisy. The idea that a part of our government can hide its activities behind a wall of secrecy, denied to other branches of the government is in itself a scandal. The Royal Family’s connections with Hitler and the far right during the thirties is something we ought to know more about, a full disclosure would be useful.
The only Royal to come out unscathed from Normal Lamb’s book is Princess Anne, although the late Queen’s reputation hasn’t suffered too badly.
However, probably one of the most unsettling things in terms of our governance, highlighted by Baker, is the Royal Consent. We are led to believe that our constitutional monarch has no influence over what legislation is debated and the royal assent, a rubber stamping exercise is proof of that. What I was not aware of together with probably most of the British public, is that before any legislation is able to be debated, it first has to receive Royal Consent. This isn’t a rubber stamping exercise; the monarch has to approve any legislation to be debated.
Consent is and has been withheld, if things included in the proposed legislation are thought to be at odds with the interests of the monarchy. There are times when legislation has been sent back to be changed before it receives royal consent if at all.
This book is well researched and referenced. It is one I recommend everyone to read whether Republican or Monarchist.
I haven’t read many children’s books in the last twenty years or so, what was a near nightly experience for me when my children were small has long past. Often or not my children would be asleep before I finished reading the chapter or story, sometimes my children would have to wake me to finish reading to them.
Peter Kim is a shy elf living with his parents in their toadstool home in Glebe Wood; we follow Peter’s adventures as he explores the wood that is his home, meeting interesting characters and the friends he makes. These friends include fairies Bella and Flossie, Harry the Hedgehog and a number of other woodland creatures.
The pictures that accompany the text are beautifully drawn by a number of different artists including the author.
Children’s stories should entertain and ideally, subtly educate in the process, this book does this, it is well written, informative and entertaining, and the chapters are the right length for bedtime reading.
This is the first book in a planned series of seasonal adventures for Peter Kim with Summer, Autumn and Winter to come. These are treats to look forward to.
I had enjoyed the Guide to Grunty Fen also by Christopher South and thought more of the same would make a useful tonic for me. I was delighted to find a copy in Huntingdon’s wonderful Niche Comics and Books.
This who’s who is a definitive guide to the notable people that have made this overlooked but remarkable area of the Cambridgeshire fens what it is today. The biographies of these inhabitants and former inhabitants are informative, making for fascinating reading. It describes the sheer diversity of talent that has and still continues to occupy this close knit community.
Amongst others we learn of Ron Flash Gordon postman and Pyloneer, Daisy Dockeridge a notable Pharmacist, any number of remarkable clergymen, among them Emmanuel Partington Vosper-Jones. Vosper-Jones, installed a gingerbread house (originally a pantomime stage prop) as a confessional later following a nervous breakdown he left the clergy to become a tobacconist.
Other notables include, inventors, philosophers, parachute knitters, educationalists and an early equal rights activist Queenie Marsden
Every page is full of interesting facts that shed a light on the lives of those residing in this under discovered corner of Cambridgeshire. I am sure it won’t be long before the casual weekend tourist, anxious to see where Dennis lived and to learn more of this remarkable community,becomes inspired to buy the corrugated iron and reclaimed building materials needed to build their very own shed. Many of them will consider employing the famous Grunty Fen Architect Niven Parr to help with the design and construction.
For those seeking a simpler more sustainable but in many ways an unusual form of life Grunty Fen seems to have a lot to offer.
With an easy bicycle commute to Ely and access to the rail network those tired of city life could do worse than move to Grunty Fen
Jill who is estranged from her husband, has moved to a seaside town to run a mobile, beachside, vegetarian, snack bar.
She is caring for her young grandson, Jack but grieving for her son, Davey, Jack’s father. As Christmas nears; the anniversary of her son’s death, Jill struggles to cope with her conflicting emotions, trying to give Jack the best possible Christmas she can while dealing with the still rawness of her grief.
I am certain this story will stay with me for a very long time. It moved me in a way that surprised me. It is beautifully written, the characters are believable and well-drawn. The end is satisfying, living up to the title
The only other book that has affected me in the same way as A Gift Called Hope; is “The Catcher in the Rye” by J D Salinger.
That I remember so much of The Catcher in the Rye after reading it just once, fifty years ago, speaks volumes.
Like Catcher in the Rye, this story is about loss and the grief that accompanies the loss of a loved one.
Reaching an accommodation with loss is a bumpy road; this book describes that journey with tenderness and humanity.
Three Sheets to The Wind is the latest collection of stories and poems from the renowned u3a writing group Whittlesey Wordsmiths of which I am immensely proud to be a member
I promised to put a longer version of my story that featured on Marsha Ingrao’s blog after the book, Three Sheets to the Wind was published An Unusual Job for a Woman is one of the stories in this collection.
Here is the full version of the story that appeared earlier as “Not a Proper Job.”
An Unusual Job for a Woman.
Philip Cumberland
The guided bus was an unusual getaway vehicle, but it had served her well in the past.
“It’s their vanity that makes them vulnerable,” she thought.
She had been glad to get out of her waitress uniform and into something less conspicuous. What politician full of their own importance could refuse an honorary doctorate from one of the world’s leading universities?
“More wine Mr Ambulant? Yes, the glass is a bit dirty. I will fetch you a clean one. It was the Chardonnay, wasn’t it?”
Fortunately, she was in the kitchen when he collapsed, nowhere near him. When they all rushed to see what was happening, she was in the ladies, changing into jeans and a tee shirt. Then nipping out through the Masters’ Garden… a bit naughty really, but not as naughty as poisoning someone.
Thank goodness for the tourists. It was easy to get swallowed up by the crowds. The bus was waiting in its bay when she arrived at Drummer Street. Some of those academics can be a bit handy when a girl is carrying a tray of drinks while wearing a fairly short skirt; the women were the worst. She wondered if she had been missed yet. The Park and Ride is very useful; you can park for free at St Ives, get into the middle of Cambridge then back to pick your car up. The luggage lockers are useful too. The Jiffy bag was waiting for her; Sheila would count its contents later. No doubt the next job was in there too.
The policemen standing waiting by her car were a surprise. She noticed them as she closed the locker door – always sensible to park near the bus shelter. Fortunately, the bus was still waiting to move off. She climbed back on, flashed her day rider ticket at the driver, and then found a seat next to the emergency exit.
As she left the bus at Huntingdon, she thought it was always good to have a plan B. The elderly Renault Clio was inconspicuous and could be left anywhere without arousing suspicion if there weren’t yellow lines or parking restrictions.
She drove to her cottage in Wistow. It wasn’t her main address, but somewhere out of the way when life got complicated. After opening the Chardonnay with a wry smile on her face and pouring herself a glass she reached for the Jiffy bag. Inside were a few hundred in twenties and tens for expenses. The lottery ticket was there too.
The photograph of her next target was a bit of a surprise. He was nasty enough but well connected; he must have really upset someone, Sheila thought. Then she remembered a story – well, a rumour of a story circulating – that would explain it.No matter how big a bully you are, there is always someone bigger and nastier.
Right, London on Monday to claim her lottery prize and perhaps a call to Grandmother.
The Sunday papers headlined Ambulant’s sudden death; a heart attack was the suspected cause. Hopefully, the college had secured his endowment before his demise.
Sunday passed quietly, and it was the eleven-thirty train from Huntingdon that delivered Sheila to Kings Cross. The newsagent’s shop was small, scruffy and inconspicuous, located on an anonymous side street.
The newsagent, certainly the man behind the counter, was elderly, bald and stooped. His nicotine-stained fingers suggested that a few years ago, a cigarette would have been permanently between his lips. He took Sheila’s blank lottery ticket and took it into a back room. Returning after a few minutes he inserted it into the lottery machine. The tune from the machine announced it was a winner.
“Congratulations, young lady; five numbers and the bonus ball, £180,000 and 3p. You will have to contact Camelot; keep your ticket safe.”
Sheila called Camelot’s special number using her mobile phone, identified herself, scanned the QR code and arranged the transfer of the winnings to her bank in Switzerland. She had left the newsagents with a copy of the Times and then found a call box.
The call was answered on the third ring by a quavery elderly male voice.
“Hello, who is it?”
“Mr Wolf?”
“Yes.”The voice immediately changed to something younger, no longer quavery.
“It’s Little Red Riding Hood. Can I speak to Grandmother please?”
“Grandmother’s familiar voice was calm as usual.”
“Hello, my dear. What can I do for you?”
“I am a little concerned about my next job.”
“He has got a history of heart problems. You are an attractive young lady and very clever.”
“Two policemen were waiting by my car at St Ives after Mr Ambulant died.”
“You should have a list of your next target’s engagements in your pack. You need to be very careful about how you manage things.”
“I am a little concerned about how quickly the police were onto my car.”
“The payment for the next job will be a lot higher, a million from the Euromillions draw. There is less interest in those winners.”
“Who else knows about me and the next target?”
“Just Mr Wolf, the Woodcutter and myself.”
“What about the Witch?”
“She’s dead.”
“Okay then, I will do it, but won’t notify you first. Once I have done the job I will phone you.”
“That’s absolutely fine, my dear. We know you well enough by now.”
Sheila ended her call and went shopping, mainly in charity shops, although she didn’t need new clothes, but the right clothes for the job.
A slightly plump middle-aged woman booked a room at a small hotel near Holborn underground station. She had booked for a week in the name of Mrs June Gordon and produced her driving licence with an address in Stamford as proof of identification. Her clothes were of good quality but not fashionable: sensible suits and skirts.
Sheila’s target was a man of habit. He jogged in Green Park most mornings, usually at seven. His list of engagements included lunch with the prime minister, theatre visits, and talks with dignitaries.
Sir John Grantly-Crouch prided himself on his physical fitness, and his run in Green Park, close to his house, was part of his daily routine. It was the second day in a row that the middle-aged lady wobbled by on a Santander hire bicycle, wishing him good morning. A bit unusual for a woman to cycle in a tweed skirt, he thought, but that was all. He jogged on, turned a corner, and saw that she appeared to have fallen off her bike. He extended his hand and helped her up, holding her gloved hand to do so.
She thanked him profusely, remounted her cycle and rode off.
Sir John Grantly-Crouch never finished his run. A few minutes later, he suffered a heart attack, collapsed and died.
The middle-aged lady parked the hired cycle at the docking station near the toilets and Green Park underground station. She peeled off her gloves and put them on the ground beside her. After taking her capacious leather handbag from the bicycle’s front basket, she opened it and put on a pair of surgical rubber gloves before opening a plastic bin liner. The leather gloves were placed in the bag; a pack of antibacterial wipes was used to clean the handlebars, saddle and frame. She didn’t want innocent victims.
The used wipes and surgical gloves went into the bin bag too. The partially filled bin bag was sealed, placed inside another, and both went back into the capacious handbag.
Sheila found a call box and spoke to Grandmother.
“Sir John Grantly-Crouch collapsed and died in Green Park this morning whilst out for his run. The cause of death will be a heart attack.”
“Thank you, Little Red Riding Hood. Your lottery ticket will be sent to you.”
“I have already bought it. Here is the number; have you got a pen to hand?”Sheila read the number from her ticket.
“That’s not the way it works, Little Red Riding Hood.”
“It is this time. I have plenty of the substance left, Grandmother. Or should I say, Joan? I know where you all live, so no monkey business.”
“There will be none, I assure you.”
The tube was busy with the morning commute. Kings Cross was crowded and they weren’t looking for a middle-aged lady or the older woman who left the train at St Neots.
I can’t think of a single occasion when I have visited a book event at Huntingdon’s Commemoration Hall and left empty handed.
The Book Bank and similar book related events are hosted by Niche Comics and Books of Huntingdon, it was at a recent event that I came away with “Missing, Presumed”, written by Susie Steiner.
Angela Mackey, of said Niche Comics told me that the book was set in Huntingdon.
I bore my purchase home and have now finally got around to reading it.
I think knowing the area identifying the streets and places adds a little more to the story, it does for me and I have had similar comments from those readers familiar with Cambridge about my book.
Susie Steiner’s story is of a young woman, whose disappearance, is discovered by her boyfriend. An open door a trail of blood, her clothing and mobile phone left behind in their house, prompts fears for her safety. DS Mannon Bradshaw, DI Harriet Harper and their team struggle to make headway in the search for famous surgeon Sir. Ian Hinds’, daughter Edith.
This is a fascinating story, the plot moves in different directions as new threads are woven into its fabric.
All the time the team are coping with their own problems, within their relationships and families.
A tale of secrets, fragile lives, deception and families under stress, the end is unexpected and satisfying.
Susie Steiner
I learned from Angela that Susie Steiner was no longer with us having died of brain cancer in July 2022 at the tragically young age of 51.
Thin Air is set in The Shetland Isles the story centres on a wedding and a legend of the ghost of a young girl lost to the sea in 1930. When one of the wedding guests, a bridesmaid is reported missing Jimmy Perez and Sandy Wilson are sent to help find her. The discovery of the missing woman’s body in a loch turns a hunt for a missing woman into a murder investigation. Willow Reeves joins Perez and Wilson to lead the investigation.
I read a lot of crime fiction as well as writing some. Thin Air is the first of Ann Cleeves’ Shetland series I have read; I found it a difficult read. The story seemed to take a good while to get into its stride. I had the impression the author started the book stopped then took up the story later fitting bits in as she went. It is an interesting story set in the far North of the British Isles, a part I would like to visit. Although the pictures of the weather, terrain and communities are well drawn there seems to be a tiredness in the telling of the story. The plot is interesting and convoluted, and the characters are believable but it took me a long while to read it.
I don’t know if all the Shetland stories are written in the same way a steady gathering of threads or if this one is less lively than some of the others, I will have to see. Ann Cleeves writes well but I preferred other Ann Cleeves books I have read.
I am grateful to Niche Comics and Book Shop of Huntingdon, in particular to Angela Makey of the said establishment. Angela regularly organises events in Huntingdon bringing many well-known authors into the town’s Commemoration Hall to discuss their writing and books. The only problem it gives me is trying to sneak the books into our house which I buy at these events without my wife noticing, she thinks that we have far too many books already.
A while back I was at an event where two authors, Alison Bruce and Sophie Hannah; were in discussion with a gentleman whose name escapes me (I’m sorry I should have been taking notes.)
I am familiar with Alison’s work and a great fan, Sophie Hannah was a name I recognised but hadn’t read anything of hers. I enjoyed the evening and came away with a copy of Sophie Hannah’s Monogram Murders; I have copies of all Alison’s novels.
It is a long while since I have read any of Agatha Christie’s books and I must admit I am not a huge fan of hers, so I hesitated and prevaricated about starting to read Ms Hannah’s take on Agatha Christie’s famous Belgium detective.
The story starts when Poirot’s supper is disturbed by a distraught young woman entering the café where he is dining. She is convinced that she is soon be murdered.
Three murders take place at the Bloxham Hotel in London on that very same night. The victim’s bodies are found in separate rooms on different floors. Hercule Poirot assists Catchpool a Scotland Yard detective, who lives at the same lodgings as Poirot; investigate the murders. Before very long Poirot is in charge of the case with Catchpool, the narrator trying to keep up with Poirot’s thought processes.
The plot is engaging; constantly twisting and turning, to wrong-foot the reader.
I prefer Sophie Hannah’s version of a Poirot mystery to any I have read penned by Agatha Christie; I shall read more of Sophie’s books.
Knowing of my interest in local history Mrs Bullen kindly lent me her book of the history of her home in Whittlesey, 3 East Delph, a seventeenth-century cottage.
Samantha Broughton’s book of the cottage’s history. The drawing on the cover is by Mrs P A Mager
The book was written by a former occupier, I assume. The cottage was owned by Stuart Broughton between 1992 and 1998. The author is Samantha Broughton, B.A.(Hons.), M.Ar.Admin, the book is dated, 1993.
Ms Broughton’s research is meticulous and detailed it must have taken a considerable amount of time to compile this incredibly interesting record.
The book is passed on with the cottage as it changes hands, a wonderful idea.
Until reading this I was unaware of Copyhold as a form of property ownership I was familiar with Freehold and Leasehold but this form of lease, from the lord of the manor, was new to me.
James Loomes bought the land from the Earl of Portland, Lord of the Manor in1655, thereafter paying an annual rent of 4 pence. The cottage was built soon after and remained in the hands of the Loomes family for close to another 90 years. After a succession of owners between 1744 and 1838. The cottage was purchased in 1838 by the Oldfield family and it remained in their hands until 1955, over 100 years.
A former occupier of the cottage.
Arnold Taylor bought the cottage in 1955, living there until 1988.
In 1989 and 1990 according to electoral records the house was occupied by Graham and Caroline Venters.
After remaining unoccupied the cottage was bought by Stuart Broughton in 1992 he remained there until 1998.
Between 1999 and 2003 the cottage was occupied by Gary and Lorna Simms.
The account ends at this date.
Over the years the cottage has been occupied by Wheelwrights, Thatchers, Blacksmiths, farmers and agricultural labourers amongst others. It has no doubt seen births, deaths, happy times and sad. This account must have taken many hours of careful and painstaking research, there is included in the book are copies of manorial records, deeds, wills and maps.
This is an outstanding document to pass on with this cottage, genuinely a piece of living history.
On a separate note, the narrow street that runs past the front of the cottage is believed to be one of the town’s oldest roads as was known in the past as Town Lane. The road was probably connected to a causeway to Thorney used by monks travelling to and from Thorney Abbey.
The Cottage would have been on the very edge of the fens when it was built.
Town Lane is one of Whittlesey’s oldest streets. The oddly shaped house was built by a former owner of the cottage for a relative.
This is a fantastic written record and I am grateful to Mrs Bullen for allowing me to read through it.
Me with my book, Killing Time in Cambridge with the Grasshopper Chronophage at Corpus Christi College Cambridge
I was given the opportunity to talk about writing and my novel twice during this last week. On Tuesday I was invited to speak at a local Women’s Institute meeting and on Thursday at The August Book Bank event at Huntingdon’s Commemoration Hall.
I haven’t spoken in public for a very long time and then it was only once. I can’t even remember what the talk was about.
It was very kind of both the Whittlesey Women’s Institute (W I) and Niche Comics and Books in Huntingdon to invite me.
I was able to tell the attentive W I audience about the tremendous help and collaborative effort of the u3a Whittlesey Wordsmiths, to which I belong. The group encourages its members to write, help hone their skills and see their work in print and published. It is the mutual support and collaboration that has helped all of us within the group to succeed, including me.
The W I audience was engaging and their questions were interesting.
Best-selling author Emma Rous with her first novel The Au Pair
At, Huntingdon I was invited to give a short talk to an audience which included the best-selling author Emma Rous, about my book Killing Time in Cambridge. I was invited to read a well-received short extract. After other members of the audience shared experiences of their recent reading the local best-selling author, Emma Rous spoke to us about her writing. She spoke about the decision to give up her profession as a vet to pursue her writing career. By coincidence we both worked at Ramsey, Emma leaving her job as a vet and me retiring in the same year.
It was an interesting talk, Emma gave us insights into the world of professional publishing, explaining the methods and processes of a major publishing house. The changes in titles and cover designs to suit different markets and countries were an eye-opener. The examples on display were remarkable both in variety and concept. The thinking behind the different designs was prompted by serious market research and knowledge of different markets. She also mentioned the willingness of other authors to help and support one another, something even with my limited experience I have found to be the case.
When I spoke to Emma afterwards she told me she enjoyed the piece from my book that I had read aloud to the audience.
We share a love of the Fen country, in particular the skies.
I enjoyed both meetings, particularly the supportive interaction from both audiences.
Thank you Whittlesey Women’s Institute and Niche Books and Comics for the opportunity to share my story.
My daughter knowing of my interest both as a writer and reader of crime fiction gave me a copy of The Killing Code as a birthday present.
I had not read any of J D Kirk’s books before and this was my first encounter with Glasgow’s DCI Jack Logan.
It is always a difficult thing to write a review you want to give a reader a sense of what the book is about but give away as little of the plot as possible.
The story gripped me from the start. After the murder of a nurse, Logan’s desperate search for a brutal killer; kept me metaphorically on the edge of my seat. I raced through the pages, hoping Logan would find the murderer before another death occurred.
I really enjoyed this book it was well written, engaging and credible. I am really grateful to my daughter for introducing me to JD Kirk and DCI Logan; I shall be back to read more books from Mr Kirk.
I try to visit Huntingdonshire History Festival every year attending events that interest me. The month-long festival hosts a number of diverse and interesting events.
Alison Bruce’s talk, “Forensics and Stopping People getting away with Murder”, was hosted and organised by Niche Comics and Books, Huntingdon’s very own unique, independent book shop.
Alison shared her extensive knowledge of forensics and criminology with a spellbound and engaged audience, explaining how advances in forensic science had helped to capture criminals who could without the availability of these techniques have evaded capture. She gave real-life examples of how these advances had helped solve actual cases and the use made of IT by law enforcement agencies to thwart criminals.
Alison believes it is the lack of resources available to the law enforcement agencies which is the biggest obstacle to increasing prosecution rates, not the lack of tools. She also touched on the lack of literacy amongst the prison population believing that it together with poverty is a prime cause of crime.
Alison Bruce is a favourite author of mine; I own copies of just about all her books. She takes her crime writing craft very seriously, her latest degree is in Criminology. Alison lectures at the Anglian Ruskin University, in Cambridge, amongst other things training the police.
A few years ago I was fortunate enough to attend a one-day writing course hosted by Alison at Ramsey, it was organised by Ramsey u3a. It proved to be a very useful day and I learned a lot.
This was an interesting, informative evening with a terrific author and wonderful lady.
Alison with a scruffy old man
I am looking forward to reading her next book promised for 2023.
If you love to read short stories, you will enjoy Story Chat. For links to all of the stories bookmark the Story Chat Y2 Page. Comments are closed after 30 days because of scammers. If you have comments on other stories, you can make them on this current post.
Something to Think About
What theme or themes did “Not a Proper Job” have?
What might Sheila’s Grandma say if she understood Sheila’s line of work?
What famous story or character does Sheila remind you of?
The guided bus was an unusual getaway vehicle, but it had served Sheila well in the past.
It’s their vanity that makes them vulnerable, she thought. What dignitary full of their importance could refuse an honorary doctorate from one of the World’s leading universities?
I am a big fan of Peter Lovesey and his hero Peter Diamond. Killing with Confetti has been on my; to be read list for a while now and I wish I had been able to get to it sooner.
We are into the action very early on with a plot that moves from a riot at a prison to the forthcoming marriage of a crime baron’s daughter and a senior police officer’s son. DCS Peter Diamond has the unenviable job of managing the security for the wedding at Bath’s Abbey Church and reception at the City’s Roman Baths; he hopes it won’t prove to be a poisoned chalice.
Peter Diamond has to ensure that Joe Irving the bride’s father, a target for any number of assassins is kept safe. Not an easy job, given Irving’s numerous enemies and with the events taking place in Bath’s historic buildings, offering plenty of hiding places for a killer.
Deputy Chief Constable George Brace, the father of the groom is very anxious the day goes well but whatever the outcome, his association through marriage with Bath’s crime Lord is going to be a difficult one to manage, career-wise.
The responsibility for managing Irving’s safety, a successful wedding and reception weigh heavily on Diamond’s shoulders.
A great read, that kept me engrossed from start to finish.
Paranormal City is unlike any other city or maybe it isn’t, it could be that this city is also here; unseen in the city we inhabit but hiding in plain sight, sharing its existence but in a different way to the one it lives within.
Paranormal City’s inhabitants walk our streets in a form of normality we recognise, rubbing shoulders with the daily commuters, sharing our places and lives but they are in some way different. These are the werewolves, shapeshifters, vampires, cyborgs, demons and creatures which only become strange to us when assuming their other, true hidden identity.
Paranormal City becomes the battleground of a titanic struggle between strange forces and creatures. It is a fascinating tale and a damn good read.
Hopefully, these creatures are purely a work of fiction.
This was my first read of a novel featuring Vera; Ann Cleeves’ DCI Vera Stanhope, as seen on TV, as it says on the cover of this edition of the book. Vera is presented to us, warts and all. Brenda Blethyn is a supremely confident actress to be able to portray this woman so accurately.
The plot is dense, convoluted and engaging, drawing me in from the first moment. After her morning swim, Vera finds the body of a young woman in her local health club’s steam room.
The characters are well-drawn, the descriptions of places and people believable. However, what I found was most interesting, that despite being presented on television with a very believable version of Vera, I found a different Vera in the book. A woman who entered my imagination on her own terms. This for me was extraordinary, although the television Vera is good, I preferred the Vera of my imagination.
It was for me a quick read I wanted to know how the story ended and who the murderer was, I hadn’t worked it out.
A thoroughly good read. I am becoming a fan of Ann Cleeves.
I have an ancient Pashley Delibike, similar to the one Granville used in the Open All Hours, television comedy programme; someone once asked me what was I doing with Granville’s bike?
The bike is used primarily for my Sunday Paper rounds but also for litter picking excursions with Whittlesey Sreet Pride and occasional shopping trips.
The large wicker basket used for carrying my papers and other goods finally succumbed to the ravages of time and the base parted company with the sides. I managed a temporary repair by cutting a piece of plywood and fixing it to the frame below the basket’s base while I searched for a replacement.
It had seen better days
I tried local cycle shops, without success, Huntingdon’s Blind Shop used to sell baskets when I was a lad but they no longer do. Finally, I tried the internet. Initial searches found basket makers well out of my area and although the price for the basket was reasonable, when carriage costs were added, things started to mount up.
Eventually, I found a fairly local basket maker, Sue Kirk, based in Kings Cliffe, near to both Oundle and Stamford.
A really great improvement
After an exchange of emails with photographs and dimensions, we agreed on a price and time scale.
Kings Cliffe is a picturesque village of stone houses and in places narrow streets.
The Old Brewery Studios is on Wood Street and itself is an old stone building
of character.
I dropped the bike off in my van and left it to Sue to sort out. Two weeks later I was able to collect my bike with its new basket.
The quality is excellent and the price was very reasonable. However, the new basket puts the rest of the bike to shame, I will have to set to and bring the bike up to the same standard as the basket.
It is great to see traditional crafts still being carried on and to find such outstanding craftspeople, if you are in the market for a willow basket of any kind Sue’s studio is well worth a visit.
I watched two thought-provoking programmes one recent Friday evening. The first Keep on Burning, a documentary about Northern Soul reminded me of my own teenage years. My teenage years preceded the Northern Soul era and its music, to a large extent the soundtrack of those later years.
In my own case, the music I enjoyed was predominately Soul and Motown, although the Rolling Stones did get some of my attention. These special years are fleeting. I am sure for a great many of us; as the music changed, as it always does, the magic of those years is quickly lost. There has been good music since, as there was good music before but none that I felt I had the same ownership of, it could never evoke the same memories or hold the same wonder.
Keep on Burning told the story of Northern Soul, from its roots as an underground movement, (much in the way many music genres are born), to its rise and fall in popularity. I had heard of Northern Soul but knew little about it, many of the bands and singers who had performed live at The Twisted Wheel Manchester, the Golden Torch (Tunstall, Stoke-on-Trent) and Wigan Casino live were the soul bands that I knew from my teenage years. Martha and the Vandellas, Edwin Starr, Junior Walker and the All-Stars, among them.
Other artists were unknown to me; I had heard some of their names but didn’t know their music.
There are those who resolutely cling to that Northern Soul era, as there are those in every generation; holding on to a time and music that is special for them, their own soundtrack. A hardcore of fans of every music genre clings onto memories, freshened by gigs where for a few fleeting hours they can relive their own time of magic. In that respect, the Northern Soul diehards are little different to those who attend Rock and Roll weekends or live only for times they can watch favourite Trad Jazz bands.
I mentioned good music since; I was not a watcher of top of the pops after the sixties and listened rarely to pop music radio stations. It wasn’t until groups like Chic, Rose Royce, Sister Sledge and in a different genre, Dire Straits had been and often gone that I became aware of them. Fortunately, as they say, their music lives after them, as it has for Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Charles and so many others.
Nile Rodgers photo Wikipedia
Chic became a particular favourite, I would search out their videos on YouTube and bought CDs. The band’s co-founder and principal songwriter was Nile Rodgers, the BBC 4 programme about him is the first part of a series. I am interested in creative people, things that inspire them and fuel their creativity.
The disco sound and scene formed the special years of another cohort of teenagers, ten maybe fifteen years younger than me although Nile Rodgers is only younger than me by a year. He would have listened to the same music as I had but went on to create music of his own.
One of his quotes, in particular, struck me, “Find your own style, do not merely imitate someone else.”
As a writer I think I have found my own voice, there are writers who I admire and who have influenced me but I think my style is my own, my way of seeing the world.
Nile gave an interesting insight into songwriting; with his collaborator Bernard Stevens, who was Chic’s bass player. They started their songs with a hook singing the chorus first, leaving the listener in no doubt what the song is called. The first lines of a story work in the same way to hook the reader, to capture their imagination and attention.
The reference: Drip the sugar in a bit at a time building up for when the chocolate cake comes, is much the same as: “Keep it moving action, action, feed the descriptions in bit by bit with the action.”
“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout with some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”––George Orwell
Over the last few years, I’ve had the privilege of interviewing some amazing authors. Each one different, but all equally fascinating. However, I always end my interviews with the same question, namely, what’s your advice to anyone thinking of writing a book or taking up writing? So, this month, I thought I’d take some of those fabulous responses and put them here, in one helpful, and hopefully inspiring article.
The only advice that is guaranteed to be correct is to pick up your pen and begin. Then you are a writer, whatever anyone says. ––Ross Greenwood
It’s a real cliché but read. Read in your genre and out of…
Raymond Chandler’s shoes are very difficult to fill. Philip Marlowe, Chandler’s hero is someone who has inhabited the imagination of all those who have read Chandler’s novels. My Marlowe will be different to everyone else’s Marlowe but our own original has its own presence.
‘Poodle Springs’, Chandler’s unfinished novel was completed by Robert B Parker and worked well for me; I have since discovered that Parker wrote another Marlowe novel, ‘Perchance to Dream.’ This is one I will seek out and read.
Marlowe is engaged by The Pacific Mutual Insurance company to investigate the death by drowning of Donald Zinn; before the million dollar payout is made to his widow.
Donald Zinn is an all too easily recognisable pastiche of a contemporary character, one who it appears has followed a similar career path to Zinn’s.
It was a good idea to base the action in Mexico; the location of Zinn’s demise.
Only to sleep didn’t work well for me, perhaps it was taking Marlowe out of his time and place; California’s, the thirties, forties and fifties or maybe at 73 Marlowe just hadn’t aged well. I didn’t recognise him even as an older version of himself
Other Chandler and Marlowe fans may enjoy this book; it just wasn’t a good read for me.
I had collected The Midnight Library from my daughter’s, to bring home, she was returning it; it is my wife’s book. I asked her if I could read it.
The story is Nora Seed’s.
Nora lives in Bedford, regrets and depression have inhabited Nora’s life, a life she decides to end the day the things she holds most dear are destroyed around her.
Nora then finds herself in a most unusual library; its librarian is Mrs Elm, the kindly, chess playing, librarian from her schooldays. Mrs Elm helps Nora find the books to help her understand life, her own in particular.
The journey through the books in the library is fascinating, each book adds to Nora’s own story, giving her new insights and understanding into not just her life but life itself. Woven into the story is the theory of the multiverse, something that with even my very vague knowledge of physics; fascinates me.
This is the most exceptional book I have read in a long time. It is a beautiful and moving story.
This, so far the only one of Reginald Hill’s books I have read.
Despite watching Dalziel and Pascoe on television I wondered whether Hill was of Caribbean heritage, a quick search on Google revealed that he wasn’t. Hill’s choice of a black hero, dealing with the racism of some police, made me think that he could have been a black writer.
It is difficult to write about a Private Eye, Raymond Chandler is always looking over your shoulder. Without the influence of him and Dashie;l Hammett; the genre I’m sure would be less widely populated.
This is Joe Sixsmith’s first outing, forced by redundancy as a result of his employer’s downsizing and middle age, to find something new, Joe embarked on a career as a Private Investigator. Having spent a lifetime in engineering, this was a strange choice.
Joe is a loveable character, harassed by his anxious Aunt Mirabelle, longing to see her nephew settled into the bosom of a suitable wife. His aunt’s matchmaking is just one of many problems; Joe has to deal with as he stumbles his way through cases of drug smuggling and murder.
I do not know if Hill’s fictional Luton is close to the reality of Bedfordshire’s, the one with an airport bearing the same name but it is nonetheless one that works.
I enjoyed this book immensely and will seek out more of Joe Sixsmith’s adventures.
Generally, I only watch a few hours of television a day if at all. Mostly it is crime dramas that attract my attention and they occupy most of my viewing time; my daily ration of dodging the adverts while trying to follow the plot.
I often watch Vera, a series featuring DCI Vera Stanhope as its main character, gradually becoming aware of the name of the Vera books author, Ann Cleeves. Ann is the creator of the programme’s characters. After a recent stint of writing at the local library, (I work better there) I sought out her books happening on her very first; A Bird in the Hand.
It is a very good read, excellent in fact, tightly plotted and populated with well-drawn, interesting characters. The thread that binds both the story and its characters together is bird watching, particularly the community known as “Twitchers”.
When the murdered body of a young twitcher is discovered in the Norfolk coastal marshes; George Palmer-Jones, a retired Home Office investigator is asked to help solve the crime. George is an elderly bird watcher respected by the bird watching community and knowledgeable about the people and their habits. Assisted by his wife Molly, George embarks on discovering the truth behind the brutal killing, we accompany the pair as they tour the country chasing sightings of rare birds while hunting the killer.
It is a brilliant first novel, as it was then. I now know there are many, many more books by Ann Cleeves, for me to read.
I have found a new sweet jar and I will dip into it whenever I can.
Although many of us have heard of the Spanish Inquisition few of us know much about it. The suppression of Islam and the forcible removal of Muslims, the Moors, as Spain violently re-established the supremacy of Roman Catholicism was one of Europe’s darker chapters.
Stuart has set his story in Pamplona, famous for its Bull Run and the area around it. The story is a classic tale of good versus evil, referencing the events of the turbulent and violent times when the Moors were the subject of the most horrendous cruelty. It is a fascinating blend of fantasy, psychological thriller and a love story.
The book engages from the start and takes on a journey backwards and forwards in time, exploring the very nature of life and humanity.
“AI is likely to be either the best or worst thing to happen to humanity”––Stephen Hawking
This month I interviewed local author (to me) Philip Cumberland (see here), who is also one of the coordinators and founding members of a local U3A Writing Group, Whittlesey Wordsmiths. As well as a contributing author of several anthologies written by the group, Philip has also recently published his debut novel, KillingTime in Cambridge, and this is my review.
The story opens with an axe wielding knight of old, dressed in full body armour, clanking down the corridor of a software company, who then hacks down the office door of the managing director, demanding to know who the ‘master’ is. The poor MD then has a heart attack, the knight disappears, and a short time later the building is besieged by medieval catapults. At this juncture, we are introduced to…
Some of us of a certain age and with a certain sense of humour have a great affection for Monty Python’s Flying Circus. There is a sketch in one episode featuring a fictional, (hopefully fictional) Australian University and the induction of a new member of staff. For the sake of simplicity and to avoid confusion everyone on the teaching staff has to be called Bruce. Having established the protocol with the new staff member they go on to sing the Philosopher’s Drinking Song. It starts with; “Aristotle, Aristotle, was a bugger for the bottle and was very rarely sober”, the lyrics continue through a list of philosophers and their supposed drinking habits. At a certain point, Nietzsche gets a mention, “There’s nothing Nietzsche couldn’t teach yer about the raising of the wrist.”
I was looking through some books on the local supermarket’s charity shelf; you take a book and leave a donation, there among the books was Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil, in remarkably good condition I handed over 50p and took it home. A week or so ago I listened to part of a lecture my daughter was watching on Zoom, she is studying for a PhD and due to the Covid problems most lectures are online. As her broadband was being unreliable at the time she watched it at our house, one point the lecturer made was that a thesis should be clearly structured and easy to read.
I wish Neitzsche had been given this advice or if he had been, followed it. To say it was badly written would be an understatement. It rambled, digressed and seemed full of contradictions often within the same paragraph, some of these paragraphs consisted of one long rambling sentence several lines long. As a philosopher, a man of ideas you would think he would want his thoughts to be accessible, not so Nietzsche.
This is a translation from the original German and has one assumed been edited; that a translator couldn’t make it any more readable speaks volumes; it was obviously beyond their comprehension too.
Whereas most scientists willingly credit those who have gone before them, Newton said. that he was able to see further as he was able to stand on the shoulders of giants. Not so, Nietzsche, he has no one’s shoulders to stand on apparently and if they were there, no need to stand on them, such is his arrogance. He dismisses Darwin’s work without a shred of evidence, it doesn’t fit in with his view of the world. Supposedly as a “man of reason” he seems to seriously fall short in that department, unresearched theories are asserted as fact without any evidence to support them for example, he dismisses Socialism without any reasoned argument.
He was blatantly a misogynist, a supporter of a master race and a ruling elite, again without any research to support his assertions. Although it is fair to say that he was in many respects racist, he wasn’t, certainly if this book is a reflection on his views anti-Semitic.
There is much within the book that gave ammunition to those of the National Socialist movement in 1930s Germany, Hitler probably read out sections of this book in some of his speeches.
I wish in many respects I hadn’t wasted my time reading this book.
This is, without doubt, the worst book I have ever read, a fellow reviewer on Amazon summed it up in one word, “Nonsense.”
After reading several self-help books of which this is one, I was sceptical. Most of those I had read promised much but delivered very little in the way of help.
Stephen thought there was a gap in the market, a gap between planning and implementation. While there is any number of books about setting goals; grand plans and ideas remain just that; unless there is a clear strategy to turn those plans, ideas and dreams into reality.
Unleash your Dreams is different it gives clear guidance, with links to further useful tools and forms online. It clearly explains the way forward in clear unambiguous language and is an easy read.
Mr Oliver has brought his experience in writing guidance manuals and teaching, often complex subjects to this useful book with great effect.
If you want to unleash those dreams; lose weight, write a book, run a marathon or have settled on some other goal, this is the book to help you make your dreams a reality.
My brother treated me to a visit to Duxford Imperial War Museum recently. There was an air show taking place, commemorating the Battle of Britain. The flying displays were fantastic, one can only marvel at the skill and airmanship of the pilots involved. Planes in action included not only Second World War veterans but also some from world war one, both British and German.
World War 1 Biplane
Duxford was itself a front line fighter station in world war two, The legendary Douglas Bader flew from there. All over East Anglia are the remains of airfields brought into action for the conflict a few remain as working aerodromes and airports.
I also had time to wander around some of the hangars, looking at the hardware of war. A young girl in RAF uniform, possibly a cadet was marching up and down a short piece of the road by one of the hangars, perfecting her movements?
Coastal defence gun from Gibraltar
There is a huge Coastal defence gun outside, on display from Gibraltar. In the hangars, I was filled with immense sadness as I moved from exhibit to exhibit on display. Humanity can always find more and more money to kill one another. If the money was more wisely spent on looking after one another, it would save a fortune and millions of lives.
V1. A lady I worked with had gone right through the Blitz in London, she told me these were the only things that had frightened her
We owe that at least to those who so generously sacrificed their lives for a better future for those who lived after them.
Humble Boy (photo Credit Nick Farka (Red and Round).
The terrific set for Humble Boy
This was my third visit to Tolethorpe Hall, had the Covid crisis not intervened it would certainly have been more. All three visits have one thing in common, the performances were outstanding.
Humble Boy written by Charlotte Jones was exceptionally good, I thoroughly enjoyed it as did all of our party of eight.
The weather was unkind with sporadic heavy showers, luckily most of the heaviest rain fell during the interval.
The play was new to me, it is well written and extremely funny. The acting was excellent the characters were believable, the timing, brilliant.
The set also deserves a mention, as with all the sets for the plays I have seen at Tolethorpe it was beautifully designed, well made and the build quality appeared outstanding.
It was a very professional production.
A truly magical evening, thank you Stamford Shakespeare Company.
I am looking forward to next year’s season of plays.
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