Jenny Kane & Jennifer Ash

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End of the month blog with Nell Peters: Goodbye November

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On November 30, 2017

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, crime, Fiction, Jenny Kane, News

As we speed with way too much haste towards the end of 2017, I’m delighted to hand my blog over once again to the brilliant Nell Peters. I wonder what she has found out for us this month…

Over to you Nell…

Thanks for having me again, Jenny! Happy St Andrew’s Day, everyone – and to all NaNoWriMo participants, take a break! Your job is almost done.

November didn’t start brilliantly chez moi. The Saturday before we came home from our brilliant-but-too-short hols, #2 son supervised installation of a (ludicrously expensive!) high-rise, disabled-friendly upstairs loo at my mother’s house. The old one was low-ish and being a bit wonky on her feet now, she sometimes had difficulty sitting down on it, despite the grab handles each side. Super Plumber did a grand job, as always, but mentioned in passing that he didn’t have absolute confidence in the flushing mechanism.

How right he was – I had hardly made it down the aircraft steps at London City, when I had a text from the early carer telling me that the new toilet had stopped flushing. Since I’m four hours away, quite what she expected me to do about it, wasn’t clear. The rest of the day passed with me tearing my hair out in clumps, trying to get the damned thing fixed at such time when a carer (any carer!) would be at the house to give access. No joy – eventually #2 ended up driving two hours from Cambridge after work, to meet Super Plumber at the house at 8.30 pm. We also booked SP to replace the faulty unit asap. Two days after Flushgate, I got a call from another carer to say the washing machine had broken …

The stressing didn’t stop there – I didn’t see the OH for over two weeks because his colleague’s son was rushed to hospital with suspected (later confirmed) meningitis and so OH was working insane hours down at their London base, holding the fort. I’m pleased and relieved to report that the little boy responded very well to treatment and made a full recovery. Kudos to the parents who didn‘t hang around and got him immediate treatment as soon as they realised something was wrong. Not such a happy ending for #4 son’s much-admired boss, though – he died soon after being diagnosed with cancer and #4 was heartbroken, especially after losing his beloved grandfather a short while before.

But let’s move on. Hands up who has a birthday today – I mentioned Winston Churchill, Mark Twain, Gary Lineker, David Nicholls and John Bishop last year, so best not repeat myself or Jen will give me the sack. The first fist I see waving madly in the air belongs to William Michael Albert Broad (one of the Norfolk Broads, I hear you ask?) who is better known to most as Billy Idol – he’s sixty-two, so perhaps a little long in the tooth to still be described as a punk rocker. You decide. The stage name Idol evolved from a school teacher accusing him of being idle, but not wanting to be confused with Monty Python’s Eric Idle (as if!) Billy opted for the alternative spelling – so perhaps not the huge ego trip that calling oneself Idol suggests.

Next up, we have journalist and TV presenter, the ubiquitous Lorraine Kelly, who is fifty-eight today. I’ve never watched any of her programmes but I have seen her prancing around the screen advertising frocks and fripperies – just don’t ask me the brand name.

In a survey, Kelly was voted the celebrity from whom most people would like to buy a car – an honour of sorts, but not really comparable to receiving an Honorary Doctor of Law degree from the University of Dundee (2008), being made an Honorary Colonel in the Black Watch Cadets (2009), and receiving an OBE in the 2012 New Year Honours List.

American Criminal Minds actor and singer, Mandel Bruce (Mandy) Patinkin is sixty-five today. Born in Chicago, Illinois he got the smell of the greasepaint as a young teen, singing in synagogues, before training at the Julliard School performing arts conservatory in NYC. One of his contemporaries there was Kelsey Grammer (Cheers!) and other alumni include Robin Williams, Kelly McGillis, Kevin Spacey (can I still mention him?), Val Kilmer and Linda Kozlowski – better known as the ex-Mrs Crocodile Dundee. Keeping his tonsils exercised, Mandy P sings a rather lovely version of Younger than Springtime from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific here; www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ii465lXLp8w In our local cemetery, a baby girl’s tiny teddy bear gravestone is touchingly engraved with the song title.

What has happened historically on this day, I hear you ask? Well … way, way back when, there were a few Pope-related shenanigans, starting when St Marcellus I began his reign as Catholic chief banana, in the year 306. Skip forward a little over four centuries and Pope Gregory II declared Boniface (previously known as Winfred – not sure which is worse) as a missionary bishop to Germany (722.) Not sure what that is, but I assume Boniface was a happy bunny.

Pope Innocent III was perhaps inappropriately named – I couldn’t possibly comment – being a little big for his papal boots. He even looks a bit shifty in his portrait *cowers, awaiting well-aimed boulder to land on head*. Surrounded by intrigue from the moment the white smoke billowed forth to gas everyone and signal his election – on the very day in 1198 that his predecessor, Celestine III expired – the Pontiff previously known as Lotario de’ Conti, became ever more autocratic.

Papal power was already based on far more than scriptures – previous popes had acquired large amounts of land, so that bishops and clergy were, in effect, agents of Vatican business. Pope Innocent III’s increased involvement in elections escalated when he formed the Fourth Lateran Council and summoned approximately twelve hundred bishops, abbots and nobles from around Europe to assist in amending current laws and creating new ones – thus further influencing the masses (religion being their opium) to support the Pope as the universal authority of the Empire. Rocking a bit of a superiority/God complex there … Innocent (wonder if he liked smoothies? Sorry!) shut up the FLC shop on this day in 1215.

 

In 1406 Angelo Correr was elected Pope Gregory XII, exactly one hundred and forty-eight years before England reconciled with Pope Julius III in 1554. That was less than nine months after Nine Day Queen, Lady Jane Grey was executed for treason aged just sixteen. Thought I’d throw in that random fact for general consumption, to check if you are still awake. In 1891, Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum (The Condition of Labour) was published – or that’s what it says on the onthisday.com site that I frequently consult. However, when I went on to do further research, more than one other web site gave the publication date as 15th May 1891 – I shall write to my MP and complain.

Meanwhile, back in the real-ish world, Rerum Novarum examines the history of Catholic social thought, establishing the RC position on issues surrounding the relationship between capital and labour (sound familiar?) – a hypothesis that emphasizes the duties and obligations that bind owners of capital and workers to each other.

Leo articulates the dignity of labour and labourer, renouncing both radical socialism and unrestrained capitalism – call me picky, but that’s a bit rich coming from the leader of a regime that owns much land, and enjoys massive wealth and obscene privilege, while the peasants bow, scrape and starve. The work defends both private property (cue Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Karl Marx and others spinning in their graves) and the right of workers to form unions.

Now, I invite you all to hop aboard the Tardis and fly with me to 2015, when the current incumbent, 266th Pope and ex-nightclub bouncer, Francis, urged peace while visiting a controversial mosque in Bangui, Central African Republic on 30th November – a champion of inter-faith dialogue, it perhaps wouldn’t have hurt to mention his previous career to any would-be agitators. As popes go, Jorge Mario Bergoglio – who took his nom-de-Pontiff in homage to St Francis of Assisi (a contemporary of ol’ Innocent III) – does seem like an OK guy.

He is the first Jesuit pope, the first from the Americas (born in Buenos Aires), the first from the Southern Hemisphere, and the first from outside Europe for many centuries. Plus, of course, he’s the first to ascend the throne after his predecessor did a bunk while still breathing – though in Benedict XVI’s case he presumably didn’t use the well-worn excuse that he wanted to spend more time with his family. Francis favours a less formal approach to office, championing the poor and preferring to live in a boarding house rather than Vatican magnificence – even his vestments are less opulent than those who poped before, although he still walks around in a dress.

Someone else who wore a dress, albeit fashioned from a bed sheet, was Mohandas Karamchand (Mahatma) Gandhi, who is getting a mention for the second month running – he can pay me later in wine. The eponymous film, directed by Richard Attenborough and starring Ben Kingsley and John Gielgud (all Sirs, I believe) premiered in New Delhi on this day in 1982. At the 1983 Oscars, it walked away with the gold painted statuette for Best Picture.

Any one for tennis? On 30/11/1986 Ivan Lendl became the first player to earn over $10 million in his lifetime – a massive amount of money now, even more so thirty years ago … Surprisingly, and although he won zillions of titles worldwide, the one that eluded him was Wimbledon (where I was born!) On-off coach to Andy Murray – I never could warm to him – Ivan must be a brave man to take on Judy Murray’s little boy, though not quite as brave as Kim Sears who now calls her ma-in-law. Scary woman.

You know there’s always a most-popular name for children of every era, sometimes influenced by slebs, sometimes not? When I was weeny, there were wall-to-wall Susans – but my mother had decided from a very young age that should she ever have a daughter, she would be called Anne. This was after she read Anne of Green Gables, by Canadian author Lucy Maud (LM) Montgomery, who was born on the last day of November in 1874. Like Lorraine Kelly, LM was awarded an OBE (in 1935.)

Princess Anne arrived a month after me and threw a spanner in the moniker works – the world was suddenly swamped with girls called Anne, which must have wiped the smug look from my mother’s face in record time. She called my sister Gillian – not, as far as I know, after any fictional character – and Gill/Gilli/never Gillian has hated it for every second of her sixty years. Oh, in case you were wondering, Nell Peters is a pen name, pinched from my parents’ Christian names because my real surname is an awfully big mouthful.

#3 son came back from India/Thailand on 15/11 for a couple of weeks and hasn’t stopped complaining about the cold since he landed. I’m just waiting for him to mention that his accommodation isn’t a patch on the rather swish apartments he now has in Mumbai and Bangkok – however, our house is free, which may make it a little more attractive. He’s flying out again on 4/12, and we’ll see him again on NYE when most of us are meeting up in London for the celebrations.

Over Christmas, he’s sailing around the Philippines on what looks like rather a flash yacht – just to compete, I may ask for a ride around The Wash on one of our neighbour’s fishing fleet … His wife appeared on the doorstep recently, asking if the OH (who is very big on fish – eating them, that is) would like a few spares for the freezer. Transferring from her plate to mine, one of the corpses did a Lazarus and leapt onto the path in a bid for freedom – cue embarrassingly girly squeals from both of us. She assured me it was definitely deceased, but once in my kitchen it did another death defying leap from draining board to floor and flip-flopped around, making itself at home. Enter the ‘fisher of men’ to sort, while I averted my eyes, and along with its shoal buddies, it’s been reclining in the freezer for a few days now – no more flying fish acrobatics.

And now I too must fly – away on my broomstick to wrong rights.

See you NYE?

Toodles

NP

Author.to/nellpeters

***

We certainly want to see you In the New Year…if you can face it! In the meantime…go and have a rest. No ones watching- go on…sneak five minutes before life strikes again!

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny xx

 

Pop-Up Bookshop in Tiverton: 28th Nov- 2nd Dec

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On November 25, 2017

In Audio, Blog, Books For Children, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, crime, Fiction, Jenny Kane, Romance, Steampunk, YA

Come along to the CreaTIVHub in Tiverton between 28th November and 2nd December for your chance to purchase books from local authors!

See you there!!

Jenny x

 

MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT: Robin of Sherwood…If I’d known then…

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On November 13, 2017

In Audio, Blog, crime, Fiction, Historical fiction

I have amazing news….but let’s start at the beginning of the story…

I’m sat in my corner in the café where I write every day. I have the radio on via my headphones. Bryan Adams is on. He’s singing the theme from the panto-esque Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.  It’s a song I have affection for, even if I don’t actually like it that much.

It was, for one thing, the tune that formed the soundtrack my ‘first dance’ after I got married. It was not the song my husband and I picked. It was, however, the song our best man thought such a devoted Robin Hood fan should have playing at such a moment in her life.

If I’d know then…

I first came across the 1980’s television series, Robin of Sherwood, when I was 14 years old. I had been absent from school for some time with one of those boring illnesses that aren’t even worth gracing with typing time, and I was bored out of my mind. My parents, being good folk, decided to surprise me by renting one of those new fangled video recorder things so I could watch television during the day (We’re obviously talking pre-day time TV, Channel 5, the Internet, mobile phones etc). The very first programme my Dad recorded for me to see was the ninth episode of the third series of Robin of Sherwood. An episode entitled, Adam Bell.

Adam Bell

I watched it seven times on the first day. Eight times the day after that. By the following Saturday, when it was time to settle down at exactly 5.35 pm to watch the next episode (The Pretender), I didn’t need to see the pictures that went with Adam Bell anymore. I knew the episode word for word. It was like audio to me by that point. I could see the images so clearly even with my eyes shut.

By the time seven days of non-stop Adam Bell watching had finished, I had also despatched my dad to the library to borrow everything he could find on Robin Hood and medieval outlaws in general.

The obsession had begun.

If I’d known then…

Robin Hood. Anything. Everything. The daft, the serious, the bizarre and the historically sound. I gobbed up all the information about the legend, and the history behind the legend, that I could. I watched every film, every programme. Everything.

My parents thought I’d grow out of it.

I didn’t grow out of it.

Fast forward 30 years.

One PhD on medieval crime, 200 story publications (long and short), a book selling session at the Hooded Man Event 2016, a trip to the Knight’s of the Apocalypse premiere to meet the RoS cast, and a genre diverse writing career later, and I’m sat at my computer- right now- listening to the aforementioned Bryan Adams while contemplating how incredibly lucky I am – because…

I HAVE BEEN ASKED TO WRITE AN AUDIO EPISODE OF ROBIN OF SHERWOOD!!!

ME!! Writing an audio script for Robin of Sherwood.

Not only that , but the gorgeous Judi Trott (Maid Marion for the uninitiated), has narrated it.

Photo credit: Kim Jones

My story is called The Waterford Boy. It features Robert of Huntingdon as Robin, and slots into the action after Knights of the Apocalypse. I won’t tell you anymore, because I don’t want to ruin the story.

Photo credit: Kim Jones

I could say it’s awesome. Unbelievable. Incredible. Mind blowing.

And it is. It’s all of those things. I’m certainly in a state of shock that out of all the possible stories submitted, mine were two of the lucky ones.

It is also humbling, a bit scary, and a huge responsibility. I’ve never written scripts before!

My 14 year old self doesn’t believe this is happening- I keep telling her it’s real. But she thinks I’m dreaming.

If I’d known then…

… when I was a messy haired, fashion hopeless, introverted teenager, that one day I’d be sat writing words for Judi Trott to say, or that I would have the power to make Will Scarlett mumble, “I’m gonna kill ‘im,” – I’d have thought the daydream had got out of hand and I’d read one storybook too many.

By some miracle though, the daydream came true. I really have just written words that involve the Sheriff giving Gisburne a hard time…oh, and Will Scarlett is in a foul mood…

Myself, and many others, have been working quietly on our episodes for months and months to try and get them perfect for you. A HUGE thank you to Barnaby Eaton-Jones and Iain Meadows for giving me this opportunity.

Can you imagine how hard it has been not telling anyone when all I wanted to do was shout yippee!?

Mind you…

I have a horror of letting the loyal RoS fan base, and the memory of the wonderful Richard Carpenter, down. All I can say is on that regard is that I promise I’ve done my best. That’s all I can do.

So? How do you order The Waterford Boy? Well – keep an eye on this link…it will be available soon!

https://www.spitefulpuppet.com/shopp.php

Jenny x

 

10 REASONS TO GO ON AN IMAGINE WRITING RETREAT

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On November 6, 2017

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, crime, Fiction, Historical fiction, Imagine, Jenny Kane, News

Alison Knight and I are proud to present our very first “Imagine” writing retreat…

10 reasons to go on an Imagine Writing Retreat…

1                    Writers need writers! No one understands writing and a writer’s life like another writer. Mutual support is the name of the game!

2                    Located in the stunning Victorian manor, Northmoor House, Imagine’s retreat gives you the chance to stay in a home untouched by time (But don’t panic, there is Wi-Fi). You can even indulge in the waters of an original Victorian bathtub…don’t forget your bubble bath!

3                    With so many of the manor’s period features still in place, Northmoor is the ideal location for sparking inspiration and dreaming up new plotlines.

4                    On the edge of Exmoor, near the popular village of Dulverton, there are plenty of beautiful places to explore should you, or any non-writing friends or partners, wish to. There are miles of good walking land on hand. The pre-historic Tarr Steps are but minutes away, and the cafes in Dulverton are excellent. I can personally recommend the poached eggs on crumpets in The Copper Kettle.

Tarr Steps

5                    However, you might not want to stray into the village for food because we have employed an excellent local caterer, who is providing a delicious menu that will cater for all dietary requirements. All food is locally sourced.

6                    Come along for a confidence boost! At Imagine we pride ourselves on helping everyone to get their words onto the page. We are here for beginners and experts alike.

Kate Griffin

7                    Meet Kate Griffin! One of Faber and Faber’s most successful crime writers. Kate Griffin is the author of the brilliant Kitty Peck Mysteries. An expert on Victorian London, Kate will be our guest speaker on the Wednesday evening.

8                    Find your inner writer’s peace of mind. Let mentor and fellow writer, Trina Stacey, help you” Set Your Sails for Writing Success”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9                    Let’s face it – Monday to Friday in a beautiful Victorian Manor, with time to write, all food provided, plus three optional workshops, a chance to meet Kate Griffin and Trina Stacey, and the opportunity to share writing ideas over a glass of wine (or two) – for only £450  is a BARGAIN.

10             It would make a BRILLIANT Christmas present for the write in your life.

***

Full details are available at https://www.imaginecreativewriting.co.uk/writing-retreats 

If you have any queries please email Alison or myself at imaginecreativewritng@gmail.com

Now is the time to drop heavy hints about wanting a writing retreat for Christmas… 

Happy writing everyone,

Jenny xx

End of the month with Nell Peters: There goes October!

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On October 31, 2017

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, crime, Fiction, Jenny Kane, News

Somehow we’re here again. The end of the month- and that only means one thing…

Over to you Nell…

Hi, y’all – and happy Halloween, All Hallows Eve, or Samhain if you prefer. Like the proverbial bad penny, I’m back again – well, at least I hope I am. Let me explain:

I’m writing this blog even more in advance than usual because we are away from 22nd October to 30th – flying back then from a late break in the sun (hopefully!) That’s assuming the OH is still in one piece after his flight to Monaco on Friday 13th (cue spooky music!) – he’s due back practically minutes before we set off. Could be worse; I’ve had to meet him at the airport before now. With all the shenanigans going on with air travel recently – so glad we are booked on BA and not Monarch or Ryanair – I have fingers and toes crossed that our flight isn’t delayed until the 31st, because historically that has been a very bad day for plane crashes.

Exactly a hundred years ago during WWI, a Fokker (careful how you say that) piloted by a Lt. Pastor suffered structural failure and crashed – it was the second such accident in three days, and needless to say, all those aircraft had to be grounded until the design fault could be identified and rectified. Pastor was under the command of infamous fighter ace Manfred von Richthofen, aka as the Red Baron, because he held the hereditary title of Freiherr (free lord) and painted his plane red – all the unit’s planes were brightly coloured, hence their epithet, The Flying Circus.

I’ve mentioned before that my grandfather was a youthful pilot with the Royal Flying Corps – a sepia photograph of him sitting in his flimsy plane hangs on one of our landings. As I drift past and glance his way, it never ceases to amaze me how incredibly brave those young airmen (of whatever nationality) were, when their life expectancy was a mere seventeen flying hours – they were indeed ‘Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines’. Unlike my grandfather, the Red Baron didn’t survive to see peace declared despite his eighty air combat victories; his luck ran out in April 1918. Drat – I have that song rattling around my head now … they go up tiddly up up, they go down tiddly down down.

 

Coincidentally, The Battle of Britain ended on this day in 1940 – since 10th July, nearly three thousand RAF pilots, including many from what was then the British Empire plus refugees from Nazi-occupied countries in Europe, had been defending British air space over southern England against the Luftwaffe’s relentless attempt to wipe out airborne defences. Flushed with his successful infiltration of much of Europe, this was the prelude to Hitler’s ultimate plan to invade and conquer this ‘Sceptred Isle’. The pilots of Fighter Command, dubbed ‘The Few’ by Churchill, had an average age of just twenty and were paid £264 pa (a little over £30,000 in today’s money). Sadly, during ‘Our Finest Hour’ (Churchill again) five hundred and forty-four fliers were killed and over a thousand aircraft lost – but (fortunately for us) they were victorious and Adolf backed off to lick his wounds.

In 1949 a pilot conducting secret tests of a prototype aircraft died when he crashed into houses in Yeovil, also killing two victims on the ground – and the following year a British European Airways (now part of BA) Viking failed to make it off the runway at Heathrow (then London Airport) in foggy conditions. Of the thirty people on board, only a stewardess and one passenger lived to tell the tale. Fast forward to 1964, when NASA astronaut Theodore Freeman perished after a goose smashed through the cockpit canopy of his Northrop Talon jet trainer in Texas, causing shards of Plexiglas to enter the engine, which caught fire. Although Freeman ejected, he was too close to the ground for his parachute to open properly. He was posthumously awarded the Purple Heart.

More Halloween air disasters in 1979, 1994, 1996 and 1999, and in 2000 there were two – in total, hundreds of passengers and crew lost their lives. Most recently, in 2015, on the day that New Zealand beat Australia 34-17 during the Rugby World Cup final at Twickenham, a Russian airliner came to grief in Egypt and two hundred and twenty four people died. So you see my point? Maybe not a good day to fly, if you have a choice. There have been some good aeronautically-associated events on 31st October, however – like Rear Admiral George J Dufek becoming the first American to land an airplane at the South Pole in 1956, and BA taking on its first female pilots in 1987. Shall we move along, feet firmly planted on terra firma?

George Dufek

No more cheerfully, Indira Gandhi was assassinated on this day in 1984 (very George Orwell) by two of her security guards – you can’t trust anyone, can you? Both men were in turn shot by other guards, and although one survived, he was executed when found guilty of murder. In a speech given on the day before her death, Mrs G declared prophetically, ‘I am alive today, I may not be there tomorrow…I shall continue to serve until my last breath and when I die, I can say that every drop of my blood will invigorate India and strengthen it. Even if I died in the service of the nation, I would be proud of it. Every drop of my blood will contribute to the growth of this nation and make it strong and dynamic.’

Indira Gandhi

Indira (no relation to Mahatma) was India’s first and so far only woman PM. Politics were obviously in the genes, because her dad was India’s first PM, Jawaharal Nehru. She had two sons – Sanjay, the younger, had been her chosen successor politically, but died in a flying accident in 1980, leaving Rajiv (a pilot) to take up the reins following her death. He was himself assassinated in 1991.

Dangerous stuff, politics, as Italian fascist PM Benito Mussolini may have noticed in 1926, when an assassination attempt was made on his life – not a brilliant way for him to celebrate his fourth anniversary of taking office. Fifteen year-old schoolboy, Anteo Zamboni tried to shoot the leader in Bologna during a parade, but the unfortunate youth missed and was immediately set upon by squadistri (fascist squads) who didn’t ask any questions and lynched him.

This was the second unsuccessful attempt on Il Duce’s life that year – in April, middle-aged Irish woman, The Honourable (but not very) Violet Gibson, daughter of Lord Ashbourne, shot him as he walked among the crowds in Rome after delivering a speech. Armed with a revolver disguised by her shawl, she fired once, but Mussolini moved his head at that moment and she hit his nose (no ‘on the nose’ jokes, please); when she tried again, the gun misfired. Poor old Vi was almost lynched (what is it with Italians and lynching?) by an angry mob, but police intervened and escorted her away for questioning. Mussolini’s wound was slight, and after being patched up, he and his bandaged nose continued walkabout. Violet was deported to Britain and spent the rest of her life in a mental asylum.

This was the day in 1959 when ex-marine and accomplished marksman Lee Harvey Oswald decided to visit the US Embassy in Moscow and declare he wanted to renounce his American citizenship. It was a Saturday, so perhaps he was at a loose end. Officer Richard Snyder accepted Oswald’s passport and a written note, but told him that further paperwork would need to be completed. Oswald didn’t follow through with the process and when he became disaffected with life in Russia (not too many burger joints there at that time, I imagine) returned to the United States in 1962. News of the defection made the front pages of American newspapers, four years before he would be reviled globally as the alleged assassin of JFK. Speaking of the late President, he held his last meeting with FBI Director, J Edgar Hoover this day in 1963.

Lee Harvey Oswald

31st October falls within the zodiac sign of Scorpio (23/10 to 21/11). Honesty and fairness are two qualities that make Scorpios a good friend to have – they are dedicated and loyal, but if they feel let down, it’s curtains. Quick-witted and intelligent, they are full of surprises but also very emotional. Ideal careers for Scorpios include scientist, physician, researcher, sailor, detective, business manager and psychologist.

 

I can think of only four Scorpios I’ve known – although I’m sure there are probably many others – one being super-blogger and lovely lady, Anne Williams (23/10) of Being Anne, a great supporter of writers and thoroughly good egg (whatever that means?) Then there’s a sister-in-law (10/11) who is mad as a box of frogs … seriously.

She’s the sort of person that if you pick up the phone and hear her voice on the other end, you really, really want to pretend nobody is in and you are the answering machine. Another I haven’t been in touch with for many years now – he (7/11) was a member of the Bomb Squad and worked in all sorts of hairy situations worldwide. I don’t know if it’s true, but he told me that a group of them were drinking in a bar (are the military allowed to drink in uniform off-base?) and someone asked what the bomb insignia on their sleeves stood for – they told him they were the Army darts team. The third (21/11) is a lecturer in Sociology, has OCD by the bucket load and is tattooed almost everywhere on his body (he tells me!) Typical Scorpios? You decide – I know who I’m voting for.

Boston Custer was born on 31st October 1848 – one of the younger brothers of Lt Colonel George, of Little Big Horn fame, or infamy. Boston – unlike brothers George and Thomas – was unable to officially join the army due to ill health and so became a civilian contractor. In this capacity he was a guide, forager, packer and scout for the regiment on the 1876 expedition against the Lakota Indian tribe. On June 25th, along with his teenage nephew Henry Armstrong (Autie) Reed, Boston was with the pack train at the rear of George’s troops when a messenger reported that his big bro had requested ammunition for an impending fight. Boston and Autie left the train to take the ammo forward and joined the main column, as it moved into position to attack a sprawling Indian village along the Little Big Horn River. If they had stayed put, they might have survived the battle that became known as Custer’s Last Stand. But they didn’t, and perished along with George and Thomas. A fourth brother, Nevin, became a farmer because he suffered from asthma and rheumatism and was not fit for the military, even as a civilian contractor – strangely lucky for him.

A century after Boston Custer, English actor Michael Kitchen was born in Leicester – although he’s been in many TV and film dramas, he’s perhaps best know now as DCS Christopher Foyle in Foyle’s War, who is driven around by the splendidly-named Honeysuckle Weeks and always gets his man.

Continuing the parts of a house name theme, American soap actress Deidre Hall was born a year before Michael, so Happy 70th today! – her twin sister, Andrea, is also an actress. In sharp contrast to MK’s prolific and varied career, Deidre has played the role of Dr Marlena Evans in Days of Our Lives for forty years – wow! She won her first award for the part in 1982 – the year another set of twins, aka the Cheeky Girls, were born on Halloween. I’m sure Monica and Gabriela Irimia have heard all the jokes, so I’ll leave it there.

Thanks again for having me, Jenny – and no, I am not wearing a horror mask, I always look like this.

Toodles.

NP

Nell Peters writes mainly Crime. Her two Accent Press novels can be found here: www.myBook.to/hostilewitness and www.myBook.to/BAON and other books are on Amazon KDP.

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Thank you ever so much Nell. Another stunning blog. Loved it.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

Bampton Charter Fair

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On October 20, 2017

In Blog, Books For Children, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, crime, Fiction, Jenny Kane, News, writing tips

Next week, on 26th October, I’m delighted to say I will be at the Bampton Charter Fair, selling my books, reading, and giving talks to adults and children about my work, and the joy of playing with words.

I will be with my fellow authors from the Exeter Author Association- you’ll be able to find us in the Community Hall on Station Road, conveniently next to a café and a nonstop supply of coffee!

The Devonshire Bampton Charter Fair has been an established tradition for centuries. here’s what the official Charter Website has to say-

Bampton Fair existed even before King Henry III granted it a Royal Charter in 1258 and it is always held on the last Thursday of October. It is one of the oldest surviving Charter Fairs in the country.

For centuries, the fair mainly sold sheep and cattle and was the largest sheep fair in the South West of England. During the 1880’s to the 1980’s it evolved to become the famous Bampton Pony Fair trading in Exmoor ponies.
Today this traditional Devon fair continues to attract local producers of foods and livestock, crafts and traditional skills from Exmoor and its surrounding villages. The streets, church, pubs and venues of Bampton are filled to over flowing with around 100 stalls, entertainments  including craft and music workshops, demonstrations and concerts, and funfair.

Opening from 9am, the Charter Fair regularly attracts in the region of 10,000 visitors- so why not come along and join the fun, pick up a few early Christmas presents, and hear a story or two along the way.

Hope to see you there!

Jenny xx

10 REASONS TO GO ON AN IMAGINE WRITING RETREAT

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On October 12, 2017

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, crime, Fiction, Historical fiction, Imagine, Jenny Kane, News

Alison Knight and I are proud to present our very first “Imagine” writing retreat…

10 reasons to go on an Imagine Writing Retreat…

1                    Writers need writers! No one understands writing and a writer’s life like another writer. Mutual support is the name of the game!

2                    Located in the stunning Victorian manor, Northmoor House, Imagine’s retreat gives you the chance to stay in a home untouched by time (But don’t panic, there is Wi-Fi). You can even indulge in the waters of an original Victorian bathtub…don’t forget your bubble bath!

3                    With so many of the manor’s period features still in place, Northmoor is the ideal location for sparking inspiration and dreaming up new plotlines.

4                    On the edge of Exmoor, near the popular village of Dulverton, there are plenty of beautiful places to explore should you, or any non-writing friends or partners, wish to. There are miles of good walking land on hand. The pre-historic Tarr Steps are but minutes away, and the cafes in Dulverton are excellent. I can personally recommend the poached eggs on crumpets in The Copper Kettle.

Tarr Steps

 

5                    However, you might not want to stray into the village for food because we have employed an excellent local caterer, who is providing a delicious menu that will cater for all dietary requirements. All food is locally sourced.

6                    Come along for a confidence boost! At Imagine we pride ourselves on helping everyone to get their words onto the page. We are here for beginners and experts alike.

Kate Griffin

7                    Meet Kate Griffin! One of Faber and Faber’s most successful crime writers. Kate Griffin is the author of the brilliant Kitty Peck Mysteries. An expert on Victorian London, Kate will be our guest speaker on the Wednesday evening.

8                    Find your inner writer’s peace of mind. We all know that authors suffer from imposter syndrome: “Why am I writing? I’m not good enough!” We all say it! Local happiness mentor and fellow writer, Trina Stacey, will be available for optional one-to-one conversations about how to believe in your abilities, and convince you that you are allowed to do what makes you happy.

9                    Let’s face it – Monday to Friday in a beautiful Victorian Manor, with time to write, all food provided, plus three optional workshops, a chance to meet Kate Griffin, and the opportunity to share writing ideas over a glass of wine (or two) – for only £450 (10% less if you book before 31st October) is a BARGAIN.

10               IT WILL BE A LOT OF FUN!

***

Full details are available at https://www.imaginecreativewriting.co.uk/writing-retreats 

If you have any queries please email Alison or myself at imaginecreativewritng@gmail.com

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT THE EARLY BIRD DISCOUNT ENDS ON 31ST OCTOBER

Now is the time to drop heavy hints about wanting a writing retreat for Christmas… 

Happy writing everyone,

Jenny xx

End of the month round up with Nell Peters

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On September 30, 2017

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, crime, Fiction

OK- I am in denial. It is not the end of September! It can’t be…except, it is…

Over to Nell!

Good grief! We’ve reached the end of September already – how did that happen? Anyway, let’s not waste any time as I’m sure you have better things to do, like giving your pet rhino a pedicure, or similar.

Red-headed actress Rula Lenska was born seventy years ago today as Róża Maria Leopoldyna Łubieńska – wow, pity her poor teachers calling the register. And she must have had custom-made, extra-long name tags for her school uniform. The family claim membership of the Polish aristocracy, with her parents being a count and countess – I wonder how impressed the good folk of St Neots were by that, because that’s where Rula was born. Perfectly nice town though it is, St Neots doesn’t quite conjure the same mental image as Warsaw, Krakow, Gdansk or even Radomsko, does it?

Early on in her career and certainly by the time she hit thirty, Lenska had renounced her countess title. She said at the time, ‘In England it doesn’t count, if you’ll excuse the pun.’ Oh, how very droll. However, a good few years afterwards in January 2006, when she signed up for Celebrity Big Brother, she justified her decision to take part with the words, ‘I’m a crazy Polish countess who likes a challenge’. Do make up your mind, dear.

I’ve never seen CBB – a fact that horrified near-neighbour Peter, who is a designer on the show, when we were chatting at a party locally. Even I, though, knew about RL cavorting with MP George Galloway in a role-play task where he pretended to be a cat licking milk from her cupped hands, and Lenska stroked his ears and moustache. Eew … or perhaps mew. Apparently, she also managed to lock herself in the toilet during her time in the house, giving late singer Pete Burns the golden opportunity to quip, ‘Oh dear, what can the matter be, clapped-out actress stuck in the lavatory.’ How brutal – made me laugh when I read it, of course, but rather mean. I’m hanging my head in shame … really.

My mother also managed to lock herself in the downstairs toilet, a few days before my dad’s funeral. I got a call from the Bluebird lunch carer saying Mum had been in there quite some time and seemed to have forgotten how to slide back the basic lock in order to get out. When Sally (said carer) tried to relay instructions through the door, my mother said she didn’t know what she was talking about and became abusive. So, Sally rang her office and some bright spark there told her to contact me. What sensible advice, when they were in Twickenham and I was at home in Norfolk – a buck expertly passed if ever there was one.

Sally decided a chisel to jimmy the lock was the way to go and so I guided her through the idiosyncratic locked door system of the ground floor – each lock with ever more weirdo-shaped keys that need to be persuaded into action – out into the back garden and around the house to the potting shed. My father was always one for ‘we’ll get a man in’ but did have some basic tools and I was pretty sure that was where they’d be, along with various lawn mowers and other garden machinery, an ancient bicycle or two, a zillion disused flower pots and industrial strength spider webs. After she managed to get the shed door open, Sally quickly located a chisel and squealed with delight when she saw an axe. I persuaded her (with much difficulty) to leave that where it was.

While she was attempting her breaking and entering, she had to hang up the phone, promising to call back when the prisoner had been sprung. An hour passed and I was beside myself with worry, when she finally rang back. Mission aborted. She’d called the Fire Brigade. We had to end the call once again, as she was expecting them to ring. By the time I heard from her again, I was (even more of) a basket case – but job done. Not impressed by three hunky firemen setting her free with a strategically placed crowbar, my mother had spat harsh words at Sally for letting strangers into her house and insulted the poor guys loud and long – nothing to do with dementia, that’s how my mother rocks.

Going back to aforementioned Rula Lenska, Marc Bolan shared her date of birth, but died just two weeks short of his thirtieth birthday when the Mini being driven by his girlfriend hit a tree on Barnes Common – I passed the spot on many an occasion when I lived in London, and there were always flowers placed there. The singer/songwriter/poet/musician was actually born Mark Feld and tried out stage names Toby Tyler and Mark Bowland along the way, before settling on Marc Bolan. Through his father Simeon’s bloodline, he shares Rula Lenska’s Polish (plus in his case, Russian) ancestry, but does not appear to lay any claim to the nobility – so, just dead common like the rest of us.

While at school (from which he was expelled at fifteen for bad behaviour), he played guitar in the trio Susie and the Hula Hoops, with vocalists Helen Shapiro, twelve at the time, and Helen’s cousin the appropriately-named Susie Singer. I can remember Helen’s hit, Walking Back to Happiness – boy I’m old, but not as old as her, because she was born on 28th September 1946, the year before Lenska and Bolan.

The glam rock band T. Rex recorded Ride a White Swan in 1970 with producer Tony Visconti (who also managed David Bowie) – it was the single that changed Bolan’s career, and was inspired by Mungo Jerry’s success with In the Summertime, tempting Bolan away from predominantly acoustic to a more electric sound. Friends Bolan and Bowie both inflicted pretty awful names on their sons – Rolan (although he was named as Rolan Seymour Feld on his birth certificate) and Zowie, who wasn’t so lucky but is now rather more prosaically known as film director Duncan Jones.

The band were originally known as Tyrannosaurus Rex, named after one of the largest carnivorous dinosaurs – a ferocious beastie capable of the ultimate in bone-crushing action. Ouch. These prehistoric predators were approx 40’ long and up to 20’ tall, with strong thighs and long, powerful tails built for speed, plus a 5’ skull which drilled into prey. They suffered from a bit of a design fault, though – while the two-fingered forearms could seize prey, they were too short to reach the mouth and deposit the poor unfortunate victim. Doh! That’s when their serrated, conical teeth came in handy (sorry!) – to pierce and grip flesh, and then rip it away from the body of their quarry. That could become the latest diet craze – tie up your arms somehow to make their reach shorter! Because we don’t have T. Rex-type teeth, no food would make it as far as the lips, ergo no calories consumed – sorted! I may yet become rich and famous …

On this day in 1955, another young man died as the result of a car crash – one James Dean, twenty-four year old American actor and cultural icon of teenage disillusionment, angst and social estrangement, as portrayed in arguably his most famous film, Rebel Without a Cause. American teens of the era easily identified with the dilemma of his character, Jim Stark, who feels that no one, not even his peers, can understand him.

A keen participant in motor racing, Dean was driving his Porsche 550 Spyder to a race meeting when the accident happened, having been stopped less than two hours earlier for speeding. The crash occurred at an intersection, when a 1950 Ford Tudor driven by Donald Turnupseed (I kid you not!) turned in front of the Porsche. Because he was driving too fast, Dean was unable to stop, colliding side-on with the other car. The actor died instantly, while Donald walked away with minor injuries. A subsequent coroner’s jury delivered a verdict that Dean was entirely at fault due to his speed, and found Turnupseed innocent of any criminal act. Fellow actor Humphrey Bogart observed about JD’s image and legacy: ‘Dean died at just the right time. He left behind a legend. If he had lived, he’d never have been able to live up to his publicity.’ Harsh, but possibly true. Unbelievably, according to Forbes Magazine (a US bi-weekly business publication, maxim The Capitalist Tool), James Dean’s estate still makes around $5M annually. Not too shabby …

This year, the Day of Atonement, or Yom Kippur is observed on 30th September, being the 10th of Tishri in the Hebrew calendar, or the tenth day of the seventh month, and is regarded as the ‘Sabbath of Sabbaths’. It is considered the most important holiday in the Jewish faith. Falling in the month of Tishri (variably September or October in the Gregorian calendar), it marks the culmination of the Ten Days of Awe, a period of introspection and repentance that follows Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

I wonder quite how that sits with International Blasphemy Day, observed annually (mostly in North America and Europe) on 30/9 since 2009, after a student contacted the Centre for Inquiry in New York proposing the idea, which the CFI supported. Ronald Lindsay, president and CEO of the CFI said of Blasphemy Day, ‘We think religious beliefs should be subject to examination and criticism just as political beliefs are …’ For those who – like me – haven’t heard of the CFI, they are a non-profit educational organization, their primary mission to foster a secular society based on science, reason, freedom of inquiry, and humanist values. In January 2016, Richard Dawkins hitched his foundation’s wagon to the CFI. Probably enough said.

Today is also Chewing Gum Day (a lot of blaspheming going on when folk tread in the damned stuff?), International Lace Day and Family Health and Fitness Day USA – the latter two taking place on the last Saturday in September rather than a specific date. And then there’s National Mud Pack Day, also an American affair. The blurb says, ‘This holiday is for learning and appreciating the use of mud on the face or really any part of the body. Mud packs have been popular for years for facial treatments to keep the skin young, soft and supple, so let today be the day you learn how to nourish your skin with mud.’

No sooner said than done – it has been raining, so I’m off to dig up the garden (or maybe I’ll get a man in) and then luxuriate with a homemade concoction slathered over all the wrinkles. You may not recognise the youthful creature who guest blogs next month – plus, of course, I will be super-skinny from trying out and perfecting The T. Rex Short Arm Diet! May have to work on the name …

Thanks, as always, for having me, Jenny!

Toodles.

NP

Many thanks to Nell for another entertaining and fascinating blog. I will never look at Rula Lenska in the same way again!

Happy reading everyone.

Jenny x

 

 

 

13 years and counting: a rethink and a retreat

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On September 26, 2017

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, crime, Fiction, Historical fiction, Imagine, Interview, Jennifer Ash

Over the past few weeks I have been very busy rethinking how I run my writing life.

I have been working as a professional author for 13 years this month- unlucky for some perhaps. I will be honest- it has felt pretty unlucky at times this year. A great many changes have assailed me over recent months, and it has taken some serious thought as to how to keep going – or even if I should keep going.

However, thanks to my family, my incredible friends, a great deal of writerly advice, and an amazing weekend at the Scotswrite17 conference in Glasgow, I can now see a way forward- and normal service will be resumed very soon.

When I say normal service, what I actually mean is normal-ish. I have decided that I will no longer be working 14 hour days , with only 10 days holiday a year, and only weekend mornings off work during the week. No more than 10 hours a day will be worked from now on (yes- I know- that won’t always happen- but my intentions are good), no work on a Saturday, and I will take at least 2 weeks off a yr. Luxury!!!

I need to take more walks- have more adventures- see more people- and as a result- I will have more stories to write about later.

As many of you know, I have recently started a new business with my lovely friend Alison Knight – this being an entrepreneur type is hard work, but very rewarding. Our creative writing workshop business, Imagine, has taken off in ways we never imagined (pun intended!) I never dreamt I’d be teaching dementia sufferers how to write stories- nor that I’d have to turn people away from my classes because the tickets were sold out and there was no more room to sit. I feel honoured to say the least.

This change of focus, away from writing 3 novels a year, down to writing one and a half novels and teaching, has done me a lot of good already. And that is just the start of the changes afoot.

Those of you who have kindly been following my work for some years, will know that my career began at Kay Jaybee (over 18’s erotica). For the time being, Kay Jaybee is having a writing break. All her old work is being re-edited, revamped and- over the next two years- will reappear looking all lovely and shiny, ready for a brand new readership.

My Jennifer Ash side meanwhile, is beginning to gather pace. I am currently awaiting the republication of The Outlaw’s Ransom– and the brand new publication of The Winter Outlaw– watch this space…At the moment neither volume is available- but it won’t be long until they are. I am also doing some other work as Jennifer…but for now my lips are sealed on that..

So that leaves Jenny…All of Jenny’s books are still available- so if you fancy a Cornish romance or a coffee shop adventure, then I’m your girl! I am working on a new novel as Jenny- which is a little different…again I will simply tease you by saying, I’ll keep you informed…

All these teasers…So what can I tell you?

Well..Imagine is proud to present its first writing retreat! Fancy escaping onto Exmoor next March to write, dream, chat writing, maybe take a class or two, and meet guest speaker, Kate Griffin (writer of brilliant Victorian crime mysteries for Faber Faber), and generally enjoy chill out time? Then book your place soon to take advantage of our 10% off Early bird discount!

All details for the Northmoor Manor retreat can be found here- Imagine

I can also tell you that I am travelling the country doing more writer talks- so if you want to book a writer talk or a workshop- just let me know and I’ll see what I can do! I can be contacted via imaginecreativewriting@gmail.com

Fleet street photographer Richard Lappas had no idea what he was getting into – K Y Eden, Tracey Norman, myself (with P J Reed taking this pic)

I have been lucky enough to become a member of the Exeter Author Association- and so far I’ve had many adventures! Today’s author photo shoot was so much fun- I’m still giggling. I was balanced on a very precarious bridge for some time…just prior to hugging a very lichen cover tree…photos soon! The next Exeter Author Event is the Bampton Charter festival on 26th October – Bampton, Devon. Do come along and see us selling our books, reading, running mini workshops, and generally making folk smile.

Having listed all that – and forgive the indulgence- it has helped me get things straight in my own head- I’d better go and get on with it all. I’ve only worked 9 hours today , so not breaking my own rules just yet!

Perhaps my thirteenth year in the business isn’t so bad after all…

Happy reading,

Jenny xx

 

 

 

End of the Month Blog: Nell’s Gone Aussie!

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On August 31, 2017

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, crime, Fiction, Jenny Kane, News

Is it me, or are the months just rushing by? 

Believe it or not, it’s that time again…Over to Nell!!!

G’day, cobbers. Nice of you to drop by – I’ll just throw another shrimp on the barbie and grab some tinnies from the fridge … OK, I’m feeling so much better now I’ve got that bit of blatant stereotyping out of my system. To be fair, despite my late father-in-law being born and bred in Australia, I’m pretty sure I never heard him say ‘cobber’, ‘barbie’ or ‘tinnies’. Not even a random ‘g’day’ …

Staying with the antipodeans for a mo, and jumping on the bandwagon of all the WWI hundredth anniversaries being celebrated (if that’s the right word?) between 2014 and 2018, on this 243rd day of the year in 1918, the Battle of Mont Saint-Quentin began. This was a successful assault by the Australian Corps during the Hundred Days Offensive, aka a rapid series of Allied victories starting with the Battle of Amiens. Defences were weakened by continual Aussie raids, the troops employing a process called ‘peaceful penetration’, which forced the German retreat from France to beyond the Hindenburg Line. Thereafter an armistice was declared. Call me picky, but a sentence that includes ‘raids’, ‘penetration’ and ‘retreat’ doesn’t immediately convey to me a particularly ‘peaceful’ option.

Former Melbourne lawyer Robert Menzies (which he pronounced Ming) and his funny eyebrows didn’t serve in WWI, even though he was of age, but he did authorise Australia’s entry into World War II in September 1939, when he was leader of the United Australian Party (UAP).

However, in 1941 he spent four months in England contributing to Churchill’s War Cabinet powwows, and upon his return found he had lost the party’s support – how very fickle of them. Ming resigned as Prime Minister and in time helped form the Australian Liberal Party, being elected as its inaugural leader on this day in 1945. He again took office as PM in December 1949 and stayed put until 26th January 1966 (Australia Day), when he resigned.

Born in 1940, multi-award winning Australian actor Jack Thompson celebrates his seventy-seventh birthday today. That wasn’t his name at birth, though – step forward baby John Hadley Pain. The poor little chap was just four when his mother died, leaving his merchant seaman father unable to care for him and his brother, David. He was sent to an orphanage by his aunt and from there was adopted by John and Pat Thompson – hence the change of surname. Film reviewer Peter Thompson (also my dad’s name) is his adoptive brother – I’ve never heard of him either.

The Australian version of Who Do You Think You Are? featured the actor in its first episode in 2008, discovering that his great-grandfather was Captain Thomas Pain, and his great-great uncle Alfred Lee, a prominent figure in Sydney society. Philanthropist Alfred donated the journal of Sir Joseph Banks, British naturalist and explorer, documenting Captain Cook’s voyage to Australia in the 1770s to the Mitchell Library in Sydney. Bonza!

Other actors sharing this birthday are; Richard Gere (loved Pretty Woman! 1949), Roy Castle (1932), James Coburn (1928), Buddy Hackett (1924) and Richard Basehart (1914). Although a pianist rather than actor, American Big Tiny Little (1930) earns his place on the list simply by virtue of his odd name. Using that criterion, let’s throw in Roman Emperors Caligula (scary chap! 12) and the outright winner, Commodus (161).

 

People born under the Virgo sign are typically analytical, kind, hardworking and practical. They tend to worry, are shy and don’t like to be the centre of attention, as they are modest, faithful, and quiet folk. With a tendency to be persuasive, they have a good memory* and sense of reasoning and are skilled at detailed work. Virgos are also known for their intellect and usually embrace art, literature, science, or mathematics.

Shall we plant our tootsies firmly back on British soil? In my August 2016 blog I mentioned that it was the OH’s birthday on the 31st – funnily enough, it is again this year. At least he’s consistent. (*Can I just mention here that he has a memory like a leaking sieve and is persuasive only because he is like a dog with a bone and doesn’t give up, so that others eventually lose the will to live and capitulate?) Again, it’s the anniversary of Princess Diana’s death, twenty years ago now – a twentieth wedding anniversary is china, but I’m not entirely sure how that would translate to the anniversary of a death. Quite possibly in no way at all, although I’d hazard a wild guess some wannabe entrepreneur somewhere has mass-manufactured a tacky commemorative mug. Was it really two decades ago that the accident happened, opening the floodgates for conspiracy theorists everywhere – not to mention making lots of florists rich when the public en masse bought bouquets, only to leave them rotting outside Kensington Palace in a public display of grief?

I didn’t watch Diana’s funeral on TV, although I have seen various clips of it over the years, most poignantly her two young sons following her coffin under the gaze of a worldwide audience. In contrast to all the pomp and ceremony that accompanied Diana’s day, I have recently organised a funeral on the other end of the scale – an occasion as low key as possible, to minimise my mother’s confusion when we buried my father; the aforementioned Peter Thompson. My mother has vascular dementia (as did my father) and is basically away with the fairies. Lucky her.

Because he had no religious conviction whatsoever, we opted for a graveside ceremony only in order to shorten proceedings. Overcoming pronounced differences in height, my sons and niece were pallbearers of a coffin decorated with Spitfires – although Peter wasn’t a pilot, his father was during WWI (not flying Spitfires, obvs – Sopwith Camels, I believe) and it was most likely his influence that fired an interest in vintage aircraft in his youngest son, who had quite an impressive collection of dust-attracting models. On the coffin lid sat a single red rose (donations to charity in lieu of flowers) and a battered old trilby that my father insisted on wearing to annoy the grandchildren, having a whole shelf of much newer/smarter hats in his wardrobe.

Instead of a priest or celebrant, we used the services of the Conductor; he was part of the funeral director’s staff, in charge of the proceedings and making sure everything ran smoothly. It was him who read out a short eulogy and tributes written by the grandchildren – he didn’t look at all like Mr Conductor of Thomas the Tank Engine fame. Well, not much. When it was over, we all adjourned to a local hotel for some much-needed alcoholic refreshment and buffet food – not a stale sausage roll to be seen – and in a final act of symbolism, each grandchild launched a black star helium balloon skyward from the car park. This may have given pilots taking off from Heathrow one or two worrying moments.

I was talking over the garden fence to neighbour David recently – his mother died a few weeks before my father, and he so rightly observed that there’s nothing like a death/funeral to bring out the very worst in people. No horror story I could relate beats the behaviour of his step-father, who refused to let David and his sister into their family home, after his wife died. He also arranged an alternative, rival wake to David’s, following the funeral that David organised and paid for, and – most bizarre of all – ordered from the florist an ostentatious wreath spelling out HUSBAND, to ride along with the coffin! Huh?

That should surely be termed a grave offence – so sorry! Nowt so strange as folk, as they say. Those shenanigans are pretty hard to top, so I won’t try and I’ll say toodles, until we meet again.

NP

www.Author.to/nellpeters

Huge thanks as ever hun. Fun, thought provoking, moving and- as an added bonus- a history lesson. Love it.

Happy reading,

Jenny xx

 

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