Back to writing - at last!

Having been ill most of this year I haven't been able to get into the writing mode but.... At last!

I had an idea based on World War II - which I lived through as a child. Started listing things that I remembered - went to several pages! Now I am trying to fill out each point so that I can see what I have that can be used but.... have not idea yet what genre it will be in. A case of watch this space.

In the meantime I have now put my books onto Kobo in addition to Amazon Kindle (where some are in paperback format). 

Got my Mojo back!

Hi everyone,

Sorry I've been a bit 'slow' this year but I was, unfortunately, unwell (to say the least). I ended up having surgery and am now gradually getting my act together.

Now, as well as having my books on Amazon Kindle they are available on Kobo. (Paperbacks of some are available on Amazon).

Will try to keep you updated.

Sky Arts Painting Programmes

Two of my favourite television programmes are Sky Arts Portrait Artist of the Year and Sky Arts Landscape Artist of the Year. I suspect because art is in my blood – my father was an artist – watercolour, pastel and pencil and I loved watching him at work. Yes, of course, he helped me with school projects!

Portrait Artist of the Year

It is fascinating watching the artists at work. Their models are three celebrities with three painters per celebrity each week. Oils, acrylic, watercolour, pastel, charcoal, pencil and even scratching on metal. Incredible. The winner gets to paint a commissioned portrait of a celebrity. This year it was Sir Tom Jones and, as he was relaxed, I saw a whole other side to him.

Landscape Artist of the Year.

Nine artists a week are taken outdoors to paint – maybe a castle, a house, ruins, gardens, coastline, mountains. As with the portraits a variety of mediums are used. One that recently amazed me was a lady with fabrics and a sewing machine!

………

I don’t envy the judges – artist Tai-Shan Shierenberg, Arts Curator Katherine Soriani and Art Historian Kate Bryan. They have a very hard job, but neither do I always agree with their choices! It would be a boring world if we all liked the same things.

And the programmes are brilliantly presented by Dame Joan Bakewell and – for a light touch – Stephen Mangen.

Although the programmes are shown on Sky Arts, they are repeated on Channel 4.

Cleaning Ladies I Have Known

The first – and best – cleaning lady I had was in the 1970s when living in Mallorca. Rosario was fantastic. She came in for a couple of hours a week to clean up after me and, if I left any clothes lying around she would take them and do them with her family wash. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t get them back until the following week and was doing 7 days a week/10 or 12 hours a day so got through a lot of clothes!

I have had a lot of cleaning ladies over the years, some were good but there were some who left a lot to be desired.

In the late 1980s when living in London I tried a cleaning lady. First tip – if your cleaning lady tells you she takes off her glasses to do the work because she doesn’t want to break them – don’t employ her! As the weeks went by I began to get a tad suspicious. Then one evening when I got home I could smell cigarette smoke. Got me thinking. We had a man who came to cleaning the communal areas and I had a word with him. He thought she wasn’t doing the two hours so next time he arrived before her and parked his van in the car park. She arrived – and about 15 minutes later she left. We reckoned she went in, made a cuppa and had a fag then left. Bye-bye!

Other funny things some ladies have done/not done…..

Unwrapped a package of 12 loo rolls and lined them up on the floor (along the wall). As she had thrown the wrapper away I ended up with 12 individually wrapped loo rolls. (Kitchen paper, of course).

When interviewing I emphasized that due to my disabilities the most important jobs for them were dusting and using the vacuum cleaner. Without exception they insisted in starting in the kitchen and leaving the vaccing until last. Consequently only the centre of the living room carpet, one push up the hallway and around the bed and that’s yer lot!

It seems to me that if you want a cleaning lady to do the job properly you need to supervise. Of course you also have to listen to her life story and who did her wrong during the past week.

And friends keep telling me that now I am 80 years old and disabled I should have a cleaning lady!!!!!

Ghosts in the Guest House

Here is the opening to Book 3 of the Cleo Marjoribanks Murder Mysteries.....

'Thank gawd we came Business Class and were first off the plane,' I commented as we reached a crowded Passport Control.  'I thought Arrivals at Gatwick was bad enough.'

'Come on, love, EU Passports over here.' David touched my elbow and guided me in the right direction.  What would I without my friendly cop?  He is a Detective Chief Inspector in Hampshire, where we live.

We had just flown into Malaga for this well earned holiday and, of course, to get away from a wet English summer.

'I'm still not quite sure how it's happened that you got away.  Especially now that the murderous culprit is behind bars.  Didn't the Super want you to stay for all the Whoop-de-do?’

DCI 'Steaming' Kettle sighed and repeated - for the umpteenth time, 'That's all over bar the paperwork.  I've done my lot, now the rest of the team can get on with theirs.  There's nothing more for me to do.  And I'm owed holiday time.  Just be thankful that no one got knocked off just before we left.  Go on, your turn.'  He shoved me forward towards the booth to show my passport. (Wondering why Kettle has the nickname of Steaming?  Think about it.)

It doesn’t seem like it was only a few weeks ago that someone killed three people and abducted me.  The plan was to kill me but the cavalry arrived in time.   This clever clogs had killed three victims in three different ways. 

Once we'd collected our suitcases we headed for the car rentals area to deal with paperwork and collect the keys for a silver Mercedes Benz C220.

I gave them to David and he gave them back.  'You drive, Cleo, I'll navigate.  If you try to find the way we'll either end up in Madrid or Gibraltar.'

Bloody cheek! I sighed.  'Okay, but don't criticise my driving.'  Not that he's ever done so in the past but there's always a first time.  Anyway, we got to the hotel in one piece with no wrong turnings.

The welcome was terrific.  No sooner had I stopped the Merc at the foot of a flight of steps leading up to the front door than a fit young man ran down them to collect our cases.  And standing in the doorway was a very impressive man with a pencil thin moustache and one of them tufts of beard on his chin.  Reminded me a bit of Peter Cushing.  'Reckon he's the owner?' I whispered to David.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B010ZSYL38
.

'Dirty Deeds in Downdene'

This is the opening of Book 2 of the Cleo Marjoribanks series. 

There I was doing my vastly improved dog-paddle up and down the pool when the phone rang.  Yeah, I know that like all modern marvels it can answer itself but, I dunno, it sounded urgent.  I made it to the steps and clambered out, grabbed a towel and picked up the receiver as it was about to self respond.

“Hello.”

“Queen of the Nile, how’re you doing?”

“Hi, Primrose.  I’m fine.  You?”

“Fine!  Fine!”  This was said airily and I grew suspicious of my crime journalist friend.

“Really?  So to what do I owe the honour of this call?”  A peal of laughter came down the wire and I held the receiver away from my ear so that she didn’t split me ear-drum.  Prim is a sweet girl, born on Primrose Day and as her surname’s Day, her parents got a bit carried away.  (Primrose Day?  19^th April, the anniversary of the day Disraeli died and, as primroses were his favourite flowers Queen Victoria had the day so named in his memory).  When I first knew Prim her hair was braided and trimmed with hundreds of beads.  Noisy.  Now she’s got it short and curly.  Natural like.  She’s black, beautiful and works on one of the national dailies.

“Not much gets past you does it, Cleo?”

“At my size, ducks, no.  So, why are you calling?”

“Well, I hear lover boy’s got himself another murder to investigate.”

I frowned.  “Really?  How did you hear about this before me?”  Not fair.  David hadn't mentioned it.  That's DCI 'Steaming' Kettle and my lover.

“Contacts,” Prim responded succinctly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright.  So what are you calling me about?”

“Thought you might have some idea about it, but as I’ve been the bearer of the news I guess you don’t know anything.”

“You guess right and I’m not going to get involved this time.”

.....................................

Secret..... Cleo doesn't learn to play golf but she knows some people who do!

E-book version:  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B008ORNGCU

Paperback:  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B008ORNGCU

Homicide in Hampshire

Opening of Chapter 1.....

I snatched up the phone in the pool room (using me skirt to hold it, of course.  No point in reading mystery novels and doing it all wrong), all the while staring at the thing in the pool.  It had to be Janet Spencer.  It was wearing her dress.  And there was red in the water.  I knew she was dead and, while talking to the police, I wondered how I was so sure she was dead.  I know I should have jumped into the pool to get her out and begin resuscitation but…  The thought of what I might see made me gaga, so I scarpered, at least as best me high-heels would let me!  (As I can’t swim, it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea anyway.)

I shot off straight down the hall, grabbed handbag and keys from the table near the door then scrabbled with the door locks.  Why are they always a problem when you’re in a hurry?  At last I was out in the night air and could take deep breaths. 

And don’t ask me why I was in the pool room when I’d just come home.  If you walk indoors and see lights on that shouldn’t be on what would you do?  No, not what I should have done – panicked.  I went to investigate.  Course it wasn’t until later that I realised I’d been stupid.

It felt like I was standing outside for ages before I heard the cops arrive.  Blue light flashing and siren moaning, just like a sick cow.

The car pulled up in front where I was leaning against the wall by the open front door.

E-BOOK:  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B005LO72BA

PAPERBACK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/152017098X