The Needling

At times, it’s hard to believe this is October. It’s warm enough for me to sit on the balcony in a t-shirt at 4.00 in the morning, the harbour on Friday was not only warm but packed with day-trippers, and the late afternoons have been busy up in the village square. The sea is warm too, or so I’ve been told. I remember one mid-October when I was playing at a cèilidh at was Mandeos (now Scena), the original night was cancelled due to a storm and the replacement night saw me in fingerless gloves and a woollen jumper. We did have a rainy day last Tuesday, complete with kali strata waterfalls but, so far, that’s it for changeable this month. I hope I haven’t jinxed anything by saying that.

While the good weather persists, I shall persist in my walks up the hill when I can (be bothered), and the rest of the daytime, continue to start work early and plough on through writing the fourth Saddling book, ‘The Needling.’ For those who don’t know, a ‘needing’ is an orphaned newling, and a newling is a newborn lamb. Actually, I’d be surprised if anyone other than me did know that as I only invented the meaning of those words last week. It’s one of the things I like about writing the Saddling series, inventing words and meanings for the local dialect. Some of what I use is real Kentish dialect: An aquabob is an icicle, a Peggy Washdish is a water wagtail, and a bufffle-head is someone daft. (Some of these are still in use; all were in use in 1888.) On top of that I invent my own, like whitebacks and blackbacks for sheep, and spoketale, an unwritten story from the past.

Also unwritten is the rest of this story. I only started last week, so there’s a long way to go, but all being well, I aim to have ‘The Needling’ out early in the new year. That gives you plenty of time to start the series if you want to, and if you do, you need to start with The Saddling. The books should, by now, be grouped as a series on Amazon, but they are easy to find from my author page. ‘The Needling’ is set in spring at the equinox and will bring the series to a close, drawing together events from the other three books and more, tying up loose ends and, I hope, making sense of the whole story. Looks like I have a busy winter ahead.

[Btw. Links are to Amazon.com which should redirect you to your own country’s store for paperbacks, Kindle and KU.]

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Symi Saturday Photos

I’ve gathered up some random shots from recent days to see you through the weekend. Have a good one.

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Spam

I love it when inappropriate spam comes in one directly after the other. ‘Meet a woman for a private date.’ ‘Get a drone as a free gift.’ Two separate emails, neither appropriate for me, or anyone I suspect, and yet they made me smile. I get so many spam message each day that I have a special programme to weed them out, but I do get to read the headlines before I bounce them back or delete them from the server. The programme, and I can recommend it, is called Mailwasher. It lets you check your mail before downloading it to your computer, reducing the risk of bugs. Recently I’ve been getting about 50 per day from one insistent bot who claims to have my password and has recorded my online activity. Unless I send a huge sum to an unidentified source, my online browsing will be made public. Spam-scam, of course, but some people do fall for it. Still, it made me think what fun they could have (if there was a ‘they’) if they had found my recent online browsing history. Then I thought I’d save them the trouble…

The thing with being a writer is research, it’s one of my favourite parts but then I like everything about creating stories, writing them up, editing them, working with a designer to create the cover, laying them out and then sending them to the great Zon in the cloud (Amazon) and letting people enjoy them, or not – that bit isn’t up to me. But research is also fun, and I do it in a couple of ways. Sometimes I buy and read a book, or go to the shelf and take down one my several reference tomes, and other times, I order a Kindle copy of a book because I want it there and then. Or I use the internet because it’s right there and saves time, though, for specifics, I don’t just take the Wiki-word for it, try and delve into specialist sites. If all else fails, I fall back on asking friends in the know, but, like asking a doctor at a party if she can look at this thing you’ve got, asking friends who are also experts in a field seems like taking advantage at times. So, back to the internet and my recent history. Looking at my research folder in my bookmarks, I find…

Inside the dark reality of Victorian slums. Sunrise and sunset times. Black white photo beautiful man business. (No idea, to do with a cover I think.) A dictionary of Victorian slang. Hats. (?) 550 alternative words for “said”. Backstage in theatres and music halls. Internet anagram server. Fencing terminology. (As in swords, not barbed wire.) Communication breakdown – the Pirate Omnibus. (No idea.) How to commit the perfect murder. — And there I think we should leave it. Oh, another spam just came in, this one to do with a certain blue pill, so I won’t go into detail.

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Rain ‘n’ stuff

The news today is from Tuesday when we had the first decent rain of the autumn season. It was on and off all morning and definitely on for a while in the afternoon, and there was more overnight, so I didn’t need to water the plants on Wednesday. As you can see, the Rainbow customers had to come inside to avoid the downpour, but we were out again as soon as possible as it’s not cold, just damp.

Wednesday dawned brighter and drier, and I was able to get up the hill for a walk and be back by eight, having done some work beforehand. It’s still warm enough to go out in a t-shirt, but I carry a hoodie with me in case. I received the usual cheery waves from various people and exchanged kalimera with several, as you do. Evangelia waved enthusiastically as she drove past, as did several workers of various nationalities going to the building sites, including the water channel engineering project at the bridge by Ag Marina. We’re getting to recognise each other now, but there’s never a chance nor time to stop and chat. Back through the village and more greetings get you set up for the day in a pleasant way and reminds you of what village life is all about.

And now, back to the next story with the day ahead all mine, apart from some piano playing this afternoon for an hour.

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Early morning thoughts

(With moody sky photos from this year.) Yesterday, after an effective campaign from our mayor, the Hellenic navy brought a boat to take a large number of refugees from the island. Some of these people, I am told, had been waiting here for several weeks, and from video footage I’ve seen, were very happy to be moving on. I only hope they find safety and success, though I fear it will be a long time before they find an end to their travels and tribulation. I did see some comments on antisocial media along the lines of, ‘Notice how they all have mobile phones and money’, said is a derisory manner. To which I would reply, of course. I mean, when you can’t carry your furniture, possessions and livelihood with you in a plastic bag or a rucksack, what are the things that you need to survive? Money and communication. How do you find out what’s going on with those you’ve left behind, those who are relying on you to succeed and save them, without money or a phone? Mobiles are not that costly, they are totally portable, and these days they hold your life. Treasured photos, bank account access, verbal communication, world news, GPS, a way of calling for help… Of course you’re going to take a mobile phone with you, at any cost. I would.

Which brings me onto another subject that appears to be heading our way at any cost, the dreaded B-word. I bring this up now as I am preparing myself to read a ‘newspaper’ that someone left behind for me, ‘The Brexiteer.’ This was left for me in typical Brexshitter fashion, i.e. by passing it to someone to bass to me once the donator was off the island. I assume he didn’t want to risk an intellectual discussion about our opposing views, or a sensible debate. Or maybe he just wasn’t able to bring it 30 yards around the corner and hand it to Neil or me, knowing where we usually are at certain times of the day. Whatever, I assume it’s been left for me in the hopeful manner of a Jehovah’s Witness (no offence) leaving a copy of the Watchtower in my letterbox in the deluded assumption that one read and it will change my life forever. Who knows? It’s here, and I intend to at least try and see what’s in it. You can expect some comment soon. I just have to prepare myself a little like one does when about to have a tooth extraction without anaesthetic, or take a teenager to a rap concert. As they would say in Saddling, I will approach the task ‘like a ram going to its wethering.’

Which brings me on to the next topic of the day, The Saddling series and book four, the final instalment of what started out as a solo mystery and has ended up as a popular four-parter. Well, three so far, but four is now plotted, very roughly, and after posting this, I am getting straight back to it. After a break of several months, when I have been writing the Clearwater, Victorian mystery series, ‘The Needling’ has been on my mind but refusing to leave it. Yesterday, I went for a walk up to the monastery, as you saw from the photos, came home, sat at the computer and hammered out some ideas. I now have 4,000 words of plot and notes to go over again and improve, add to and edit before I can get started, and there are a few details from the earlier books I need to double-check first, but all being well, I shall start on chapter one in a day or so.

And those are my thoughts this Tuesday morning. I am writing this yesterday, as is my way. I woke at three to rain and clouds lit by lightning over Turkey and perhaps Rhodes. I looked at the harbour and thought it was a good job those refugees were to be taken off before the rain came in. Let’s hope those remaining, and others who will inevitably come this way, find shelter.

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