It doesn’t take much to get the newshounds stirring around here, and I suppose yesterday’s downpour constitutes news. I’d just done some washing, of course, and all the windows and shutters were open, as it’s still not cold enough to close them. Then I looked out of the window and saw this…

Looks like it’s blowing in from the north, I thought, and it was, more or less directly from that direction. Better bring the washing in. No sooner had I done that, than the rain started. Better close the bedroom window. That done, it was raining harder, and the wind whipped up a little. Better close the office shutters. They’re a bit ropey and bang around at the slightest breath. I was on my way when I thought to check the living room windows which face directly north, only to find the window shelf already covered with water which had started to drip onto the floor. The balcony door area was the same, so a quick dash to the kitchen for tea towels as the scenery began to disappear.

Towels down, the shutters needed to be closed, so windows open, a blast of rain and wind later, and the north side of the house was protected. Then the kitchen window started to rattle, so I nipped along there to close that (faces west), and all was dry. Ah, but the window looking onto the courtyard (east), already starting to drip, so open that, another blast, close the shutters, and all was sealed. Including where I had repaired the gaps between tiles and sloping roof over the porch, except that was still leaking a bit. And then there was no view from the front of the house at all.

But on the inside, everything was dry, apart from the towels which remained to soak up the aftermath of a few minutes of rain. It was heavy, I’ll give it that, but the plants probably enjoyed it. A little rain makes the paving stones shine, the air smells fresher, and it tops up people’s sternas, so, all for the good.

In other news… My next book is out and you can find the details here: The Delamere Files – a series of Victorian mysteries.

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I’ve just received the ‘final files’ for my next book, which means I have a couple of jobs to do this morning. Checking the files, and unless I notice any obvious errors, uploading them to Amazon so the book will ‘go live’ as soon as it filters through its process. This can take anywhere up to 72 hours, they say, but I’ve never known it take longer than a couple—a little longer for the paperback version. To check if it’s available, you can look at the series page on Amazon. The book is titled ‘A Fall from Grace’, and the series is called The Delamere Files.

Book one, ‘Finding a Way’ is there already, and the second one should be there in a day or so. Meanwhile, I can continue writing book three, currently called ‘Follow the Van.’ It’s another mystery, of course, and set in the same world of London in 1892, but book three takes the music halls as its background. Book one was the work of a London cabman, book two, an incident at a public school in 1880, and all feature the main man, Jack Merrit, a young hansom cab driver who accidentally becomes a private investigator along with his brother who has a condition they call ‘preciseness’ who is really the main sleuth.

I doubt I shall be doing much writing of book three today, though. I have some other typing that has to be done first, and then a short story to write for a magazine, followed by watering the plants in the courtyard, some washing and housework, and those other mundane things which fill the time before you know you’ve spent it. Meanwhile, Neil is off to Rhodes for an appointment and will be out from 5.15 this morning until this evening, so he also has a busy day ahead.

I can’t remember the number of times I’ve had a list titled ‘Things to do in Rhodes on Wednesday.’ You head off on the ferry with seemingly, 101 things to achieve in the limited time between arrival and when the shops/businesses close, usually around 2 p.m., and you spend the morning rushing from A to B as if your tail was on fire, only to discover you get everything done within two hours. This leaves you the rest of the day to mooch about, take a walk in the Old Town which doesn’t take as long as you thought it would, have another cup of coffee, look at another shop (or the same ones for a second time, it’s optional), sit in the Plaza bar watching the world go by, walk around the peninsular, always watching the time so you’re not late for your boat, and then, two hours ahead of schedule, taking a very slow walk back around the coast towards the ferry, only to arrive with an hour to spare. There, having waited until you’re about to board, you realise you forgot to do something and now it’s too late and you’ll have to come back.

Ah well, on with my day.

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Four images today, each one taken from the same place over the last four years and around the same time, this week in October or as near as I could find. As you can see, it’s the view from the balcony, and things don’t change much.

October 2020

What the photos can’t show is the temperature, and I can’t remember what it was, but I can tell you it’s currently decent, though the hoodies and long trousers have come out of hibernation. It’s that time when the fans needed for summer are put away, and the duvets and covers, curtains and heaters are coming out of storage ready to be used. We’ve had to revert to warming the water before showering after three months of not needing to because it was so warm. The up-to-date electricity bill has just come in, so for the next six months I will be turning off as many things as I find left on, and leaving alone the on button on the heater for as long as possible.

Pre-winter preparations continue. Neil repainted the bathroom ceiling the other day, one of those jobs that’s been waiting six years and only took 20 minutes to accomplish. The chilli harvest is in, and even the plants that are dying off gave a good crop. They’ve now been cut back (we think they were overwatered as they weren’t looking too happy), and the vine is next to be cut right back… one day… soon.

Meanwhile, out at sea, we see fewer boats moored along the end of the harbour, and fewer anchored out in the bay. The sea generally remains flat, cut through by the wakes of the ferries and day-trip boats, fishing and pleasure boats, and recently, more coast guard and border patrol boats than we’ve had before. Troubles further afield and moves by other countries have led to an increase in people seeking shelter, safety, or a better life in Europe by coming via Greece. As far as I hear, the Poseidon and maybe the other excursion boats are packing up this week, and some summer businesses are preparing to close down.

The sea remains, though, and the view, and with a season of not much to do coming up (for me), it’s a view you might have to get used to on these pages as we head into autumn and winter.

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You know how I’m often on the balcony having my early morning cup of tea, listening to the sounds of the darkest hours, and planning my day ahead… Well, it seems it’s a good time and place for random thoughts, such as:

The other morning about an hour before sunrise, the moon was coming up in the west, just a sliver as it was on the wane, and the rest was in shadow. How does that work? I thought. If the sun’s about to come up behind it, how come the front of it is in shadow?

That was one, and I know there’s an explanation somewhere. Another one occurred this morning, and that was, ‘Why don’t computers work on weekends? Is there some union rule that says they can’t? If I set up a bank transfer, say, to pay the rent on a particular date, and that date is a weekend, the payment won’t be actioned until Monday. The same happens if I transfer funds from PayPal to my bank. Can’t do it at a weekend, computer says no. ‘Your transaction will happen in the next two business days,’ it says, as if automated computer systems pack up their desks on a Friday and hot foot it down to the Chip and Anchor for a few pints before picking up a curry on the way home.

What do they do all weekend, these algorhythms? What keeps them so busy?

‘Sorry, I can’t process your automatic payment today, I’ve got to take Tabitha to violin, and Baxter has football at ten.’ Surely these things are automatic. Or, maybe, someone has to sit with them as they do their thing, and there are not enough sitters to go around. I imagine a lone worker in a vast cubicle farm in the Arizona desert, sitting at his desk watching a screen and coaxing along millions of bank payments and card transactions. As he’s working the long weekend alone, he can only allow so many to pass, none of them mine.

I don’t know, but what I do know, is that while musing on the pointless, I also saw some bats. I don’t know much about bats, except you use them in cricket and gothic novels, and I wondered why I am only seeing them now? Is it the time of year? Do they move house? We used to see them a lot when we lived up at Triada, but not so much here. Recently, we’ve seen quite a few, or the same one going around in multiple circles trying to find a crumbling castle or silly mid-wicket.

Tits, too. Coal tits are back (above), and they are something else we only see around here in the winter, as are robins, though I’ve not seen one yet. We’ve had the usual run on pigeons, doves, blackbirds, thrushes, sparrows, warblers, a couple of kestrels, the far-away eagles and buzzards over the valley, and seagulls, though not as many as you might think. Oddly, and for the first time in over eight years, I’ve also seen a pied wagtail on the roof of the house in front. I noticed one in the village square the other day, and now it seems to be exploring around the house. I only say ‘oddly’ because I’ve only ever seen them down by the sea or up in the hills and forests.

Anyway, those are the kinds of random things going through my head at 3.30 while I listen to the sea lapping at the quayside wall, the screech of the little owls that live nearby, and a high-pitched drone that’s coming from some boat down below. Random? Yeah, that’s me.

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This week saw a few regular visitors heading home after their stays, but that doesn’t mean the season is coming to an end, it seems. Apart from the weather remaining fair, and warm(ish), the day boats continue to come in (at least four yesterday, plus two Sebecos), and as far as I know, nothing much has yet closed for the winter. I heard at least one charter airline was extending its flights into November this year, but I’m not a travel agency, so that’s only rumour. As far as I can see from up here, the season isn’t yet showing signs of slowing down. Much.

I have to admit, I’ve not been out and about much this week, it’s been a week of staying in and beavering away on a couple of projects, one of which is nearly finished. That’ll be my next Jackson book, and this morning, I received the full wrap-around cover from my designer. Just one small amendment to make there, and about one third of the MS to check through, and it will be ready for laying out, and a few days later, publishing. Then, I can get back to the next one.

Neil continues to work at the bar from three to five, though hasn’t been called in for an evening session for a while now. We’ve not got much planned for the weekend, although we are having lunch with a couple of friends on Sunday, so that will make a nice change. The weather seems to be set to remain calm and fair for the next several days, with temperatures forecast to be in the mid-twenties, the wind only getting up to a force four from the northwest or southeast (so not too cold), and no cloud predicted until around the 22nd, though these things can change.

As you can see, no great news, not now the local elections are done with (the incumbent mayor was returned), I’ve nothing amusing nor scandal-worthy to report, and no new photos, only older ones from the archives which I may have posted before. Hopefully, I’ll have good news for you next week (probably about the next book).

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