tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9255645346676300872024-03-16T18:53:05.705+00:00James et MoiAngela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.comBlogger480125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-1683311489857379952024-03-12T09:41:00.001+00:002024-03-12T09:41:23.948+00:00I'm reviewing Metropolitain ...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6QIVeIuTTqgep294P4PThaJW1jiqhLdQ0rCVHpmXbr7L6HSS4NGCv8lmlQcfrMQNrf-lF9efimvSuS_umYNbfVF7Zz7fD97IUW7RRvp6XsPjIP4rmY6QGGpBTqcT6K6B9aB9iDfqFAMTR8cvnFBdCs60tq_i3Yv6DL5kIZRvizvxfidP4K6q5Ob1ef8/s2440/Metropolitan.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2440" data-original-width="1627" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6QIVeIuTTqgep294P4PThaJW1jiqhLdQ0rCVHpmXbr7L6HSS4NGCv8lmlQcfrMQNrf-lF9efimvSuS_umYNbfVF7Zz7fD97IUW7RRvp6XsPjIP4rmY6QGGpBTqcT6K6B9aB9iDfqFAMTR8cvnFBdCs60tq_i3Yv6DL5kIZRvizvxfidP4K6q5Ob1ef8/w266-h400/Metropolitan.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>... by Andrew Martin. Read on to find out what I thought ...</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This book is
subtitled, ‘An Ode to the Paris Metro’, which could not be a more fitting
caption for this book.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The blurb tells
the reader that Andrew Martin has been described as the ‘laureate of railways.’</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Apparently, he has written several books
about railways, all of which have escaped my notice until now.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Published in
2023, I first noticed this book because of an article in a newspaper.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">It sounded interesting – and unlike another
reviewer who awarded only one star because there were no pictures – I was not
disappointed with my purchase.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The book
came with me to France when I last visited and was read as I overlooked the
Loire.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">A Paris view would have been
perfect, but unfortunately, the city was not on my list of destinations for
that trip.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The book looks
at the history, creation and development of Metro. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I was fascinated to discover the origins of
the iconic Metro Station entrances, with their green railings and stylised
flower motifs that I have always thought of as beautifully French.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">It was also a surprise to find that the twin
lights of the entrances have been compared to demonic ‘dragons’ eyes’ —</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">definitely not how I’ve ever thought of that
ironwork lighting!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As a child, I
remember being mesmerised by the London Underground every time we visited.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">We always took the tube.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">As an adult working in the city, I always
travelled on the underground, but by then, it had lost its fascination.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The carriages were always crowded and
uncomfortable, the intricacies of the tiled patterns signifying my stop to get
off rather than an industrial piece of art to be noticed or appreciated.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Spring forward a
few years, and during my time in Paris, I rediscovered my childish obsession
with travelling by train underground.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">On
my journeys across the city then and since, I have always marvelled at the
architecture, which uses Art Deco motifs to define the unmistakable style of
the Metro.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17K1TkgLWaK6ffXVj0iSG0lyvTIdyOgTthALJN0sy15UP-B1KXl8icRgeWhqNNYISZIVMl7N9yGhS63jZ2DdyXB_R2b6mTd3Kx5mNTBuXu9zVTj_KKGDBqwOS2VqO5KJfMzwiL3PISQTxQoinm7UcoIiqGpB5KbBJAh6IYTLzmsi7JEQrTswV4MaBzvA/s1281/ParisMetro02B&W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="1241" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17K1TkgLWaK6ffXVj0iSG0lyvTIdyOgTthALJN0sy15UP-B1KXl8icRgeWhqNNYISZIVMl7N9yGhS63jZ2DdyXB_R2b6mTd3Kx5mNTBuXu9zVTj_KKGDBqwOS2VqO5KJfMzwiL3PISQTxQoinm7UcoIiqGpB5KbBJAh6IYTLzmsi7JEQrTswV4MaBzvA/w155-h161/ParisMetro02B&W.jpg" width="155" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo <br />courtesy of Pixabay</span></td></tr></tbody></table>The book is not
only a detailed history but also an appreciation of the art, style, and
cultural importance of this form of transport in one of my favourite
cities.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The narrative flows easily
across the pages, and the technical input is in clear, uncomplicated
language.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Naturally, as I was reading
the book, I had my map of the city beside me and often stopped to sort through
my photographs to remind myself of what I might find at ground level at many of
the stations mentioned.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I thoroughly
enjoyed this book.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The wit, clear
descriptions, and literary links made it a complete story — a story told with
the skill and imagery of a natural poet.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-family: arial;">If you enjoyed this post you might also be interested in my reviews of other books, such as : </span></i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: red;"><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/01/im-reviewing-paris-echo.html">Paris Echo</a> <a clouds="" href="I" m="" over="" paris...="" reviewing="">Clouds over Paris</a> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/07/im-reviewing-cursed-bread.html">Cursed Bread</a> </span>or <span style="color: red;"> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/08/im-reviewing-vanished-collection-by.html">The Vanished Collection</a></span></span></i></b></div> <p></p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-34365644369744151942024-03-05T06:00:00.056+00:002024-03-05T06:00:00.129+00:00Come and join me at the Spring Book Fair ...<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9aNJ2ON8yJ9vvpj5qR1hd-3GLIrRtFuzdq45rDSGGYq86NODcaApojw4OimhBE_oaonzBuZzKBLzZEYhaYERfMJX3cgq1D__G3-wCFbsqnF6oqMxqWssuui1nu_EMsyJuM8H5M_Fay2-Ga5ABwHWnTCkhZuRWvALum7iE60U2LN7g4AGCEseXOr52jGc/s3730/6Books&Village02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2801" data-original-width="3730" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9aNJ2ON8yJ9vvpj5qR1hd-3GLIrRtFuzdq45rDSGGYq86NODcaApojw4OimhBE_oaonzBuZzKBLzZEYhaYERfMJX3cgq1D__G3-wCFbsqnF6oqMxqWssuui1nu_EMsyJuM8H5M_Fay2-Ga5ABwHWnTCkhZuRWvALum7iE60U2LN7g4AGCEseXOr52jGc/w400-h300/6Books&Village02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span> </span><b><i>... in York. Please read on for more details ...<br /><br /></i></b></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">On<b> April 6th,</b> there will be a Local Writers' Book Fair in York.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The venue is the <b>FRIENDS MEETING HOUSE, Friargate, York (YO1 9RL).</b> This is situated close to the Coppergate Shopping Centre in the city. And, as it's April, the timing is perfect for snapping up some books to take on holiday in the summer.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>There will be lots of other authors there too. I will have my </span><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="text-align: left;"><b>Jacques Forêt Mystery </b>stories with me which I'm happy to sign if required. All six of these books are set in south-central France, with each book featuring a particular cosy crime for readers to solve along with Jacques and his business partner, Didier Duclos.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLFWP0IOBCNrlXXFB9GJ0Mz6iDBhivohhJbRHyF1XNVSlJ9EPkBlMTdjgq6E6TjmLlTX7Vq9-35pOwiyVJqa8p7I5ZjLR3A0Bj0vG7gd3PqiUX5bB1rh-5UwupyyD8-esoFsNr5cnseX83AdWgWZNLs_WG8TlYvNToT9JM3PF6uCz2bV3O3oZhkL_BR0/s3207/MissM3Bks&Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2838" data-original-width="3207" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLFWP0IOBCNrlXXFB9GJ0Mz6iDBhivohhJbRHyF1XNVSlJ9EPkBlMTdjgq6E6TjmLlTX7Vq9-35pOwiyVJqa8p7I5ZjLR3A0Bj0vG7gd3PqiUX5bB1rh-5UwupyyD8-esoFsNr5cnseX83AdWgWZNLs_WG8TlYvNToT9JM3PF6uCz2bV3O3oZhkL_BR0/w164-h146/MissM3Bks&Map.jpg" width="164" /></a></div>Also, I will have a supply of all three of the fabulous <b>Miss Moonshine </b>anthologies. For me, it's great to have the opportunity to write something other than crime for a change. So, if your taste is for romantic, heart-warming stories, then these collections - created by a group of nine northern writers - are just what you need! As it says on the cover of one of the books, once you've met Miss Moonshine, 'life may never be the same again.'</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LWOjYX6fwddY-Zi2BUEUGDVSbzWSedmFI4Gs_gJ26_5H1qmBKyfWtWRW8OarNUy8XTSC7IkZ5l2O74OcnRwYhJFHs-vs8yLB4kxZXt3Ib0vdnA3-xBFY235B95_pFduzjagjwjiw5joQQXYTxY8Ekouy5NLX3lRW_2ix4kHMP3Dz2wtePA9cbvgf0r0/s3361/3Books&BlossomB&W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2957" data-original-width="3361" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2LWOjYX6fwddY-Zi2BUEUGDVSbzWSedmFI4Gs_gJ26_5H1qmBKyfWtWRW8OarNUy8XTSC7IkZ5l2O74OcnRwYhJFHs-vs8yLB4kxZXt3Ib0vdnA3-xBFY235B95_pFduzjagjwjiw5joQQXYTxY8Ekouy5NLX3lRW_2ix4kHMP3Dz2wtePA9cbvgf0r0/w184-h162/3Books&BlossomB&W.jpg" width="184" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Finally, I will have the <b>Seasonal Paths</b> collections on my table, too - I'm back to crime for my stories in these books! These three collections of multi-genre stories - <b>Authumn Paths</b>, <b>Winter Paths</b>, and <b>Spring Paths</b> - are put together by a collaboration of nine writers that stretch across the Atlantic Ocean. I will be able to introduce you to some new writers that perhaps you may not have come across before.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><p><b style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></b></p><p><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>So, please do come along to the fair, which opens at 2.00 pm. It will be great to see you there if you can make it ...</i></b> </p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-48850091576243332052024-02-27T06:00:00.216+00:002024-02-27T06:00:00.140+00:00Please welcome, friend and author, Elisabeth Dunleavy ...<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipbNlljA7SWHlASSOwa_sDbYht30J2px809jfkSVW-cwAJZNih3WlnawIKL_fr1uxWbMhjoDR-g_tC04S2p2od3omvmgE_LbwvgqhTsBx2VlCo8qsV_pbWJRVhB9nFbrU7Zt1Q7iP5sqsfMj_Q8LYVl2Uo8kFdXFap4l_oTadvGLrDNMGvAQdtaspNPUU/s1756/AuthorPic02.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1756" data-original-width="1478" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipbNlljA7SWHlASSOwa_sDbYht30J2px809jfkSVW-cwAJZNih3WlnawIKL_fr1uxWbMhjoDR-g_tC04S2p2od3omvmgE_LbwvgqhTsBx2VlCo8qsV_pbWJRVhB9nFbrU7Zt1Q7iP5sqsfMj_Q8LYVl2Uo8kFdXFap4l_oTadvGLrDNMGvAQdtaspNPUU/w336-h400/AuthorPic02.jpg" width="336" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>... to the blog this week. Hi, Elisabeth. Thanks for taking some time out to be here today. Tell me all about your latest release.</i></b></div></span></div>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><b><span><br /></span></b></span></em></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><b><span>ED</span></b></span></em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span> </span><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true">No
Way Home</span></em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"> is a memoir
based on my German mum and aunt’s diaries from 1945.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><b><span>AW</span></b></span></em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span> Interesting, and what first
got you into writing and why?</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><b><span>ED</span></b></span></em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span> I wrote
diaries as a teenager and young woman. Over the years, I have written quite a
number of poems. I first remember writing poems in 1982/3 when I was living and
working as a nurse in South Africa. Poems about love, nature’s splendour or my
observations of people/situations. I wrote for me, a literary snapshot of times
in my life, which, when read years later, took me right back into the moment of
writing and the circumstances that provided the inspiration. I didn’t write
regularly, and certainly, when my children were young, it took a back seat—although
I do remember writing a poem about how frazzled I felt at the end of the day,
surrounded by dirty dishes and toys strewn across the floor!</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>I knew I had to tell Mum’s story even though she didn’t think it
worth telling. She would not have agreed to it in her lifetime. When she died,
six months after her sister, in 2020, I found their diaries and other family
archive items, which I kept with me on ChristaBella and continued my family
history research.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>In November 2022, I began translating my aunt’s diary and signed
up for an online writing course. Although it was more about self-publishing and
SM marketing, I learnt a lot and had support and encouragement from a group of
fellow aspiring authors, which did keep me going and eventually saw </span><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true">No
Way Home </span></em><span data-preserver-spaces="true">published in
September 2023.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>Although there are sections of the book written by me, I feel a
bit of a fraud because the main part of the book is the translation of the
diaries—their words, not mine.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><b><span>AW</span></b></span></em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span> Your book is a family memoir, and apart from the work on the translation, there must have
been a lot of research, too. How easy or difficult was that?</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><b><span>ED</span></b></span></em><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span> Once my
interest in my German history had been sparked in my mid-50s, I had plenty of
opportunities to talk to Mum about the people in her life as a youngster in
Gleiwitz. She happily recounted stories about their life before the war, most
of which is the first chapter of </span><em><span data-preserver-spaces="true">No Way Home</span></em><span data-preserver-spaces="true">.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>Because of this, I was familiar with the names I came across
when translating the diaries. My aunt had written a family tree back to my
great-great-grandparents, and I found several formal portraits in a plastic
wallet when clearing my aunt’s flat in Frankfurt in 2020. Some portraits were
easy to identify; however, I sent some pictures to the V&A museum, asking
them to date the portraits based on the clothes being worn. This was really
interesting and allowed me to make an educated guess as to the identity of the
remaining portraits. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">The translation was difficult and time-consuming.</span></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhly04OcC6lb02o-30bRI4fJrziVWV6_r_gzH-5DoMc_3KLGYrcXPIjCZ_DCUlUiCP7totiUqS0WPXByWCJyrV1xbhzK8YGhrrCtAryxfKknuEpD7YlwX4tbzYiu_Sl0qEuDmVYiXNT4snhKgIhSdijHAXZw-SxOo771Jor3LOmeZTOJuc1A3FVI4mxMmE/s3169/Diaries02.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3169" data-original-width="3013" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhly04OcC6lb02o-30bRI4fJrziVWV6_r_gzH-5DoMc_3KLGYrcXPIjCZ_DCUlUiCP7totiUqS0WPXByWCJyrV1xbhzK8YGhrrCtAryxfKknuEpD7YlwX4tbzYiu_Sl0qEuDmVYiXNT4snhKgIhSdijHAXZw-SxOo771Jor3LOmeZTOJuc1A3FVI4mxMmE/s320/Diaries02.jpg" width="304" /></a></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The German cursive handwriting was difficult to decipher—I used a magnifying glass to look at the strokes of the ink pen on the page to work out the letters- particularly ‘u’ ‘m’ ‘n’ ‘r’. Eventually, words and sentences emerged, and although I do speak German, I used internet translation tools if I didn’t understand. Of course, chatting with my siblings about the nuances of the language was invaluable. As the structure of the story emerged, I wanted to understand the ‘situation on the ground’ in more detail, never having studied WW2 at school. I felt context was lacking, so began using the internet and books to find out more. Aftermath by Harald Jahner was particularly helpful as it corroborated what I was reading in the diaries. I have referenced all the resources I used at the back of the book.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As well as diaries, there were letters written in old Sütterlin script—a totally different alphabet and even more difficult to decipher. I had to establish if copyright law would prevent me using a map found in my aunt’s diary, travelling to German National Library in Frankfurt to find out. The internet can only go so far! I travelled to Frankfurt with my four siblings to pay our respects to our aunt Ursula, who had died alone during the Covid pandemic. We had been unable to go altogether until April 2023.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Mapping the route of their separate journeys was also a challenge, not least because some of the places named in the diaries were now known by other names because borders had changed. German towns or areas now had Polish or Czech names. Using Google Maps allowed me to see the terrain in some places, which helped me picture how physically difficult the journey was under the circumstances—trying to get from A-B with little or no working transport infrastructure.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sometimes, my research brought me to a dead end. That was difficult to accept, especially if I knew my mum would have had the answer since she was no longer here to ask.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I found my consolation in a quote from Mark Twain: ‘A successful book is not made of what is in it, but what is left out of it.’</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>AW</i></b><span style="font-family: arial;"> And what about other types of writing? I know you write poetry, but are you intending to dabble with fiction at some point, perhaps?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>ED</i></b><span style="font-family: arial;"> Yes! Out of respect for my mum, my aunt and my family, I wanted No Way Home to be a factual account of that period in their lives. However, so many other unanswered, personal aspects were unearthed in the writing of No Way Home—there’s a thrilling novel right there! I’m excited, just thinking about it! Watch this space!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>AW</i></b><span style="font-family: arial;"> Famous authors such as Roald Dahl and Dylan Thomas had a special space for writing. Do you have a writing shed of your own?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBIcMmPMXF_prlJGmg7leJQGVeYqBjAqLAdpEm_aWGBqjPWNVjhkVVsGZJwN2mc8FeoHNJHA1z5fmyIEOgrR30uMgEonSfyq-Wo4wJJ99_SDzTKbwX9tudWMZMslJ2K1hHi0kd7UH_MamvzLsskFgMF3Yd20jXKM3K4Yq-EVv4iTJhhNh4lVPKAYUI_k/s3006/Workspace02.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3006" data-original-width="2890" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbBIcMmPMXF_prlJGmg7leJQGVeYqBjAqLAdpEm_aWGBqjPWNVjhkVVsGZJwN2mc8FeoHNJHA1z5fmyIEOgrR30uMgEonSfyq-Wo4wJJ99_SDzTKbwX9tudWMZMslJ2K1hHi0kd7UH_MamvzLsskFgMF3Yd20jXKM3K4Yq-EVv4iTJhhNh4lVPKAYUI_k/s320/Workspace02.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>ED</i></b> No, I don't have a shed! </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I have a narrowboat! We live as continuous cruisers on our 57ft narrowboat ChristaBella, which means we travel on English canals and rivers. The longest we can stay is two weeks unless we’re in a marina. We decided not to travel as far in 2023, which meant I could be still and write instead of going along the towpath, opening and closing the locks every day. I translated/wrote at our dining table, sitting on raised, padded bench seats, similar to a caravan, with lovely countryside views out of the window or hatch. In order to prevent my neck hurting and my back aching, I set my iPad on top of the kitchen compost caddy, bringing it to my eye level. It was a game-changer! Earbuds were also invaluable, meaning Jim could listen to the radio without disturbing me. I like to work in silence. My other refuge, not often, was our bedroom, where the inspiration for a poem would sometimes come. Writing No Way Home was a completely consuming experience, in which I often worked with uninterrupted focus for hours on end.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Jim kept me fed and watered throughout and supported my endeavour to get my book published and launched by November 2023.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>AW</i></b><span style="font-family: arial;"> And finally, if you had a whole afternoon to yourself and could choose to spend it with any one individual, living or dead, or a character from a book, who would it be and what would you discuss?</span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>ED</i></b> This is a bit of an obvious one. I’d love to spend an afternoon with my mum and ask her why she couldn’t speak of her experiences in 1945, why she really came to England and was a man called Günter, possibly her cousin, her real first love. All my life, Mum only ever referred to having one cousin, Jochen. Then, a few months before she died, she told me she did, in fact, have another cousin called Günter. After she died, we found photos of a man called Günter in her bedside drawer, and later, letters between them and more pictures of them together, clearly in love with each other. The man in the photos has a strong family resemblance to my maternal great-grandmother, Martha Halamuda, whom you will have come across in the book.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The family dynamic was complicated by divorce and Günter’s father dying when he was 11 years old, after which Mum said she didn’t see him again. Or did she?</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have discovered so many similarities between my mum’s life and my own—I would love to talk to her, woman to woman, about all of that.</div></span><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><span lang="EN-GB"></span></i></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCprbrFfDrupxSV-FpHnXT1_2X42FPHDKxSyvF2DoghZ9ax7Pu-XrPKxH56byFXhGLV03Fv-2atxEoagX0_9Mcggr4o6bWGdF3hannkw-LPtWLuYjKuhNdDAHJfcMAyE-ZsaHgLSqIJZLzvLOL0Tic5oNJO7MIxi8yCY1rxeU1_f3glnqsUOVPF-hESA/s425/NoWayHome.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="283" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggCprbrFfDrupxSV-FpHnXT1_2X42FPHDKxSyvF2DoghZ9ax7Pu-XrPKxH56byFXhGLV03Fv-2atxEoagX0_9Mcggr4o6bWGdF3hannkw-LPtWLuYjKuhNdDAHJfcMAyE-ZsaHgLSqIJZLzvLOL0Tic5oNJO7MIxi8yCY1rxeU1_f3glnqsUOVPF-hESA/s320/NoWayHome.jpg" width="213" /></a></i></b></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>about the author…</i></b><b><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></b><span class="s1"><span lang="EN-GB">Elisabeth
Dunleavy has researched and translated her German mother and aunt’s diaries to
write </span></span><span class="s1"><i><span lang="EN-GB">No Way Home</span></i></span><span class="s1"><span lang="EN-GB">,
her first self-published work. A mother
and grandmother, she retired from a 40-year career in healthcare in 2019, after
which she worked in a French Ski Resort until the Covid pandemic began. In 2021 she moved onto a narrowboat,
ChristaBella, with her husband and explores the canals and rivers in England as
a way of life. </span></span></span><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><span lang="EN-GB">about the book…</span></i></b></span><span class="s1" style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB">
A personal account of separation in 1945 Germany; the physical and emotional
journeys, made separately, by two sisters and their serendipitous reunion as a
family. With themes of faith, philosophy and continuance, forced from their
destroyed childhood home as girls, they become young women in a new world, their
relationship forever changed.</span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="s1"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></span></span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>You can read my review of the book <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/11/im-reviewing-no-way-home.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Here</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>and you can take a peek inside<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://b2l.bz/NOrrpP" style="color: #2b00fe;">Here</a><br /><br />You can follow Elisabeth on her <a href="https://edun-writer.com" style="color: #2b00fe;">Website</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>and on<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/edunwriter/" style="color: #2b00fe;">Instagram</a><br /><br />You can get the book on<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/No-Way-Home-One-Sisters-ebook/dp/B0CJPLSWBV/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2AYOKJKKO4JED&keywords=No+Way+home+by+Elisabeth+Dunleavy&qid=1706010888&sprefix=no+way+home+by+elisabeth+dunleavy%2Caps%2C177&sr=8-1" style="color: #2b00fe;">Amazon</a> at <a href="https://www.waterstones.com/books/search/term/no+way+home+by+elisabeth+dunleavy" style="color: #2b00fe;">Waterstones</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>or<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/book/1144274769" style="color: #2b00fe;">Barnes and Noble</a></i></b></span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><b><span lang="EN"> </span></b></p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-24982798203752570422024-02-20T06:00:00.290+00:002024-02-20T06:00:00.134+00:00I'm Off My Beaten Track in Egypt...<p><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><b><i></i></b></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><b><i><b style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXrADWtCegzb5kywou4Wa7vgLRv9YLUdzwyhwg8yI4W__icEg551eymAFuyDiExN4nJ5aO_mIVTFdvcv6J8jf-Y1WRmMKu5mZUUW7H_PJyAwOmS1gdkVmlYpavCgsY3mLJg_21E4pY9MAa1NoPS4uvNvilicvLu_IhA2rncExvL2GiJw5Y123RSqgC9U/s1614/TempleatPhilea03a.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="936" data-original-width="1614" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXrADWtCegzb5kywou4Wa7vgLRv9YLUdzwyhwg8yI4W__icEg551eymAFuyDiExN4nJ5aO_mIVTFdvcv6J8jf-Y1WRmMKu5mZUUW7H_PJyAwOmS1gdkVmlYpavCgsY3mLJg_21E4pY9MAa1NoPS4uvNvilicvLu_IhA2rncExvL2GiJw5Y123RSqgC9U/w400-h233/TempleatPhilea03a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>... and heading further south to Aswan in the pages of my journal today. Join me and my fellow travellers as we reach one of the last of our destinations...</i></b></i></b></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><b>BEGINNING OF THE END</b></span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;">For a change breakfast is leisurely. No rushing off at dawn to beat the sun and see another temple, monument or ancient site. I can dawdle over my sweet bread roll and I can have three or four cups of coffee. Not that the coffee is that good. In fact, it's worse than awful, like the wine. But as a strict coffee-only person, when faced with the choice of seriously bad coffee or no coffee at all, I'll take the seriously bad coffee. During breakfast, we leave our moorings and continue on the last leg of our river journey to Aswan.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As we head further south the sailing is better as the river is deeper. On each bank, the Nile is flanked by desert and the sandstone cliffs, Gebel Silsila. In the cliffs are fissures and what appear to be entrances to yet more tombs.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Out on deck, watching our approach to Aswan, I remark to my Fellow Traveller (FT) M that this really is the beginning of the end. Quite naturally she disagreed at first. But then, having thought about it, she confessed that I was right. I watched as the crew made sure we were docked safely. Lunch next ...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">... Aswan is the site of the Ancient red granite quarry and this is our first port of call. These quarries were in use from as early as 2600 BC. The granite, both red and black, was used by the 4th Dynasty Pharaohs for the pyramids at Giza. Here there is also an unfinished obelisk. It was abandoned because it split whilst it was being cut from the bedrock. I'm amazed at the size of it and wonder what tools had been used to fashion such a thing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Next the High Dam. The installation is heavily guarded and we can only wander along one small stretch. Lake Nasser seemed to go on for miles and was a deep Prussian blue. It looked like the perfect place to swim. Our guide told us there are crocodiles. And so the search begins. But the crocs are obviously very shy or very lazy. I wonder what bait might tempt them out of their hiding place ... one of the more tiresome FTs, perhaps? The dreadful G— that everyone seems to have shunned. For some reason the short refrain 'Never smile at a crocodile' pops into my head. I glance around at my FT and mentally will some of them to smile! But to no avail. The crocs are clearly Divas.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Our next stop was the temple at Philea, a short ferry trip across the lake island of Agilka. The temple was moved, stone by stone, to its present location before the valley was flooded. The temple is dedicated to the goddess Isis who was worshipped until as late as 450 AD. The walls of the monument depict her great magical powers and, of course, there is a shrine to her beloved Osiris.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It is late in the afternoon and the sun is casting long shadows through the columns leading to the first pylon. There is yet another significant shift in the style of the art and decoration of the walls and columns. The pillars themselves are very simple, but they are decorated at the top by representations of not only papyrus and lotus flowers but palm leaves of various sorts. Here there is also graffiti from every succeeding century.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie798p6vUNb7qtMmyeRZauLFo7tD8x9VT-vuF7tAonp9s8NFLRVmqeKPO8Z6bKes5ctA77M6syTlhvlrQHch_ouopqL7OG_HWeZffu3VVnMp2nvuMJ9KVuABX7lASHUCuVhwyACYrok2ic7AEPGHhj2wgleDSKOPiuH9CRu_ofzufMFJ_z7t_7qpwZniY/s1631/LakeNasser02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="983" data-original-width="1631" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie798p6vUNb7qtMmyeRZauLFo7tD8x9VT-vuF7tAonp9s8NFLRVmqeKPO8Z6bKes5ctA77M6syTlhvlrQHch_ouopqL7OG_HWeZffu3VVnMp2nvuMJ9KVuABX7lASHUCuVhwyACYrok2ic7AEPGHhj2wgleDSKOPiuH9CRu_ofzufMFJ_z7t_7qpwZniY/w400-h241/LakeNasser02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">The vastness of Lake Nasser, Aswan.</span></td></tr></tbody></table>The sun is beginning to set as we leave the island and take our boat back to the landing stage. It is very peaceful on the lake and I have come to realise that I don't want to go home. I want to see more, to take in as much as possible and I find myself scrutinising the other passengers, the passing scenery and every living creature that comes into view...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">... the evening's meal is an Egyptian buffet. The food was tasty and varied, shame about the wine! After dinner, a group of us sit on the sun deck telling ghost stories. My contribution is my version of a M R James tale as far as I could remember the details. A perfect end to a perfect day.</div></span><div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> <br /></span></b></span></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;">If you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy my earlier posts about<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/06/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-cairo.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Cairo</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/07/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-giza.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Giza</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/08/im-off-my-beaten-track-solar-sailing.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Solar Sailing</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/02/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-tell-el-amarna.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Tell-el-Amarna</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/04/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-assiut.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Assiut</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/10/im-off-my-beaten-track.html" target="_blank"></a></span></span><span style="color: #2b00fe; letter-spacing: normal;">Abu Simbel</span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/10/im-off-my-beaten-track.html" target="_blank"></a> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/11/im-off-my-beaten-track.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Deir-El-Bahri</a> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2024/01/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-egypt.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Sailing</a><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB"><span><span lang="EN-GB"><span><span style="letter-spacing: normal;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>and<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/09/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-egypt.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Egypt</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><span>generally </span>- just click the links.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></b></span></div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>There will be more from my Egypt journal next month. Watch this space!</i></b></div><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left;"></p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></span><br /></span></b><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> <br /></span></b><b style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> <br /></span></b><br /></span></span></span></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-31649445951038913232024-02-13T06:00:00.060+00:002024-02-13T09:12:18.618+00:00I'm reviewing A Supernatural Shindig ...<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiQGBWMlaLSaNeemxnY84IdsFvdu-H_czcjr7_T0B7M1_yduWL02_oiOU6ghICkBtgnr1DyIttPBO4w7aHHN1izk73o7WnczxSRaGejknUl5mVrtOY8nxjf5q1PL9USE8aa2Hol1Kub3VD_Xc-tON556ANn2ImRwLurD3LaVshBoB7KWsqWWvHbx7smI/s314/CoverArt.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="281" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZiQGBWMlaLSaNeemxnY84IdsFvdu-H_czcjr7_T0B7M1_yduWL02_oiOU6ghICkBtgnr1DyIttPBO4w7aHHN1izk73o7WnczxSRaGejknUl5mVrtOY8nxjf5q1PL9USE8aa2Hol1Kub3VD_Xc-tON556ANn2ImRwLurD3LaVshBoB7KWsqWWvHbx7smI/w358-h400/CoverArt.jpg" width="358" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"> <b><i>... an anthology of stories all created by Gianetta Murray. Read on to find out what I thought ... </i></b></div></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A Supernatural
Shindig is a collection of short stories all crafted by Gianetta Murray, a
writer I have not encountered before.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As a reader and
a writer, I love short stories.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">A short
story can perfectly fill the gap when you only have ten or twenty minutes to
spare.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">After all, when you’re waiting in
a dental or medical surgery for your turn, a ripping read can take your mind
off whatever might be your impending doom.</span><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><span style="font-family: arial;">It also means you don’t have to talk to anyone else.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I so love that anti-social aspect of books!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As a writer, I
really enjoy the stricture of creating a story in a fixed amount of words.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">It means I can play with language because I
have to make every word count.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I can
also play with plot lines that I know just won’t make it into a novel. And I
can take liberties with characters I’m certain will never appear on the page in
any other form. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Short stories provide so
much room for the imagination and ideas that simply won’t fit anywhere else.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I’m very pleased
to be able to say that Ms Murray appears to be having as much fun writing short
stories as I do.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Every single one of the
tales in this book is a little masterpiece all of its own.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">We have ghosts and vampires, ghouls and
zombies all wrapped up with a sharpness of wit that had me chuckling my way
through the pages until the very last one.</span><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><span style="font-family: arial;">So, I suppose it is quite fitting that this review is appearing for the
first time today – the thirteenth!</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">A
number that is generally regarded as suspicious.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There are
fifteen little tales in this volume, and I’m confident that they will appeal to
all readers, no matter what each reader’s usual and preferred genre of fiction.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Each story is unique in its setting,
characters, and plot line. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">They are
cleverly put together, and the flow of the stories, from gentle wit to darker
tales at the end, provides a logical progression through the book as a
whole.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I can thoroughly recommend this
selection of stories.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I understand
this writer also has a novel that will be published later this year. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I will be
looking out for that.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I hope she goes on
to write yet more short stories, too.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><i>You can follow Gianetta on her <a href="https://gianettamurray.com/" style="color: #2b00fe;">Website</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>on<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/people/Gianetta-Murray-Author/100095221600878/" style="color: #2b00fe;">Facebook</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>and on<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/gianettamurray/" style="color: #2b00fe;">Instagram</a> </i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><i>You can get her book on<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Gianetta-Murray/author/B0CM9TDPN1?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1706022032&sr=8-1&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true" style="color: #2b00fe;">Amazon</a></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>I am also very pleased to tell you that Gianetta has agreed to an author interview which you will be able to read next month. Watch this space!</i></b></span></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-24840142422923911872024-02-06T06:00:00.129+00:002024-02-06T06:00:00.138+00:00Come stroll with me …<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTcI92wo-iyHN6_ITqdLitmZSWwxguUbVzVoYREM1UPQyZX1MAlzaPDNP3vwZnocUrQqT68f2cybD0cvwd3-xq9DtqdntpiATyKvLXrYk3CZcw9VQS6aVvBLn63xMhZEfKuPuTC00kGg2tRfurrmfbVwBAgN4bIq_wHrCAAWNluSNNQhpYEef1TbxIWs/s3397/VernonRiver&OldMill02.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2478" data-original-width="3397" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTcI92wo-iyHN6_ITqdLitmZSWwxguUbVzVoYREM1UPQyZX1MAlzaPDNP3vwZnocUrQqT68f2cybD0cvwd3-xq9DtqdntpiATyKvLXrYk3CZcw9VQS6aVvBLn63xMhZEfKuPuTC00kGg2tRfurrmfbVwBAgN4bIq_wHrCAAWNluSNNQhpYEef1TbxIWs/w400-h291/VernonRiver&OldMill02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>... through the town of Vernon today. You might be surprised by what we find ...<br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="text-align: justify;">With a population a
little short of 25,000, Vernon sits on the banks of the river Seine about
halfway between Paris and Rouen in the </span><i style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">département</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;"> of Eure (that’s 27 if you
collect the numbers!). There has been
habitation here since at least the 8<sup>th</sup> century. Back in 750, the town is mentioned in a document by <i>Pépin le Bref</i>, which translates as Pepin the Short. Pepin was born in 714. He became the first Carolingian
King of the Franks in 751 and reigned until his death in 768.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;">Following the invasion of the Germanic-speaking Franks, who hung around for quite a while, Vernon suffered numerous subsequent battles and changes of ruler, even becoming part of an English territory for 34 years before being ceded to France in 1449. At that time, Charles 7 occupied the French
throne and had done so since 1422. He is
variously referred to as Charles <i>le
Victorieux</i> (the Victorious) or Charles <i>le
Bien-Servi</i> (the Well-Served).
Irrespective of his moniker, he became the King who saw the end of the
Hundred Years War and, therefore, any further English claim to the throne of
France.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;">The ancient heart of this town is now
surrounded by modern suburbs, but I’m very pleased to be able to tell you that
some of the original ancient buildings still exist. As I’m camped in Pont de l’Arche, I
approached the town from the northwest along the D6015. As you travel, take care to note the view of
the <i>château</i> at Gaillon which will be
on your left as you are travelling towards Vernon.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;">The D6015 takes you straight into the
suburbs and close to the centre of town.
I parked in a side street and walked the last 300 metres or so into the
pedestrianised centre. There are some
fabulous shops and buildings, but what I want to show you today is the <i>Le Vieux-Moulin</i> (the Old Mill). From the D6015, you can cut left down onto <i>Quai Jacques-Chirac</i>. At this point, the Seine is wide and deep enough for massive river cruisers. Keep
walking until you get close to <i>Pont
Clemenceau</i>. From here, you can get one of
the best views of the Old Mill on the opposite bank.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;">Construction of the mill began in 1600, and it is amazing that the building is still there as it appears to be
suspended above the waters of the Seine with little support. The location of the mill actually anchors the
site of an earlier bridge that crossed the river at this point. That bridge dated from the 12<sup>th</sup>
century and was constructed for military purposes. In the following centuries, the bridge was repurposed, and five flour mills sat along its length. The one that can be seen today is the last of
those. In the 1600s, all of the mills relied on the flow of the river for power driven through the waterwheels, which, according to the info in the museum, could be altered in height depending on the water levels in the river. In the mid-17th century, the bridge suffered damage because of a flood, and it and the mills were abandoned. </span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">By the mid-19</span><sup style="font-family: arial;">th</sup><span style="font-family: arial;">
century, when a new bridge was constructed a little further upstream, all that
remained of the original crossing was the mill we see today and the remains of
some of the original supports.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJs_Ris11Pt1my5wr3mc62EXvgnIQynaHPQd-ztRzm1gbPXGVgxQ8_yr_R3OBPo5f9HZ5rRJSBeiKS5JAtmjXIfv53QSx102aV1bF-wIfm3pTQoy2y0Bta36IVxYAMs7miLM61Gp8HRwq7xXt1M_1umOo8-fF32grw75VoOo6ddSs2VO_cgDBSNocjs8/s2117/VernonStreet03Detail.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2117" data-original-width="1608" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJs_Ris11Pt1my5wr3mc62EXvgnIQynaHPQd-ztRzm1gbPXGVgxQ8_yr_R3OBPo5f9HZ5rRJSBeiKS5JAtmjXIfv53QSx102aV1bF-wIfm3pTQoy2y0Bta36IVxYAMs7miLM61Gp8HRwq7xXt1M_1umOo8-fF32grw75VoOo6ddSs2VO_cgDBSNocjs8/w188-h248/VernonStreet03Detail.jpg" width="188" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>But there’s more! The Old Mill survived the Franco-Prussion War and the Second World War. Regrettably,
the nearby second bridge did not, having had three further incarnations
following damage from bombing and war.
That second bridge was finally and completely destroyed in 1944.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;">However, the mill did not come out of the massive and
sustained bombing of northern France in 1944/45 unscathed. Following the cessation of war, the people of Vernon
decided that the crumbling iconic structure had to be saved and preserved for future generations.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;">You can’t visit the Old Mill, but you can sit
in the shade of a tree on the opposite bank, have lunch and wonder at the
longevity of what is a beautiful but fragile-looking piece of architecture.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">And that’s exactly what I did. Lunch was an amandine - absolutely scrumptious - from one of the bakers in town.</span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">You can join me on other strolls through the towns of </span></i></b></span><b style="background-color: white;"><i><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/08/come-stroll-with-me.html" style="color: #2b00fe; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Joinville</span></a><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/11/come-stroll-with-me-through-pont-de.html" style="color: #2b00fe; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Argentan</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>or<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/11/come-stroll-with-me-through-pont-de.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">Pont de l'Arche</a> </span></i></b><b style="font-family: arial;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">Just click the links...</span></i></b></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-9844911880826035312024-01-30T06:00:00.160+00:002024-01-30T06:00:00.241+00:00I'm reviewing The Sea's Edge by Garth Pettersen ...<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJbl-jUgK_qRYS6YOsHO1XZVhU5J7oZO-OgR9DJi7gYW8oBC7RYUM77hoVwM4UKKuPnKeQK32Gag7PNpG_qCb2UFR1IXU4BbwpVZyNNWzYUTrSVuIO2loCAexab3z8Z2BWAqnuBdWPfVPO5ITPgPgcxvS18M8MRhQnROAzn2gZz-HSJvaQ93yuYLM96w/s2422/AuthorPic02.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2422" data-original-width="2123" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJbl-jUgK_qRYS6YOsHO1XZVhU5J7oZO-OgR9DJi7gYW8oBC7RYUM77hoVwM4UKKuPnKeQK32Gag7PNpG_qCb2UFR1IXU4BbwpVZyNNWzYUTrSVuIO2loCAexab3z8Z2BWAqnuBdWPfVPO5ITPgPgcxvS18M8MRhQnROAzn2gZz-HSJvaQ93yuYLM96w/s320/AuthorPic02.JPG" width="280" /></a></div> <b style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; text-align: justify;"><i> ... on my blog today. This is book four of the Atheling Chronicles. Read on to find out </i></b><b style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; text-align: justify;"><i>what I thought ...</i></b></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>It’s quite a while since I’ve read historical fiction that stretches back to the 11</span><sup>th</sup><span> century.</span><span> </span><span>As a youngster, I moved from a morbid fascination with the ancient worlds of the Egyptian, Incan and Mayan civilisations to the world of the Saxons and the Norsemen before being entrapped by Agatha Christie and</span><span> </span><span>her ilk.</span><span> </span><span>Had we had streaming, Netflix, </span><span><i>Vikings</i></span><span> and </span><span><i>The Lost Kingdom</i></span><span> back then, I would have been glued to the telly rather than reading.</span></span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It made a very refreshing change to pick up a book set in the Early Middle Ages.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">It was also great to see a comprehensive glossary of terms at the beginning of the book, along with a list of real historical characters and their inter-relationships with each other. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I found these two items invaluable as I was working through the story.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">It was also good to discover that I hadn’t forgotten everything I’d picked up from my early exploration of this period of history!</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Despite the list of real characters, this book is a piece of fiction.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">However, Pettersen is a retired teacher with a BA in history.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">So I couldn’t help wondering how much of the action in the book might have been a possibility he had uncovered in his research for his degree or his series of books.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Having delved into my family history, including the contemporaneous social history, there have been many times when I’ve had a set of information in front of me, my imagination has kicked in, and a story with a natural consequential conclusion has popped into my head.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Perhaps I should invite Mr Pettersen to an author interview here on the blog, and then I could get his take on that.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Beginning in North Wales a little after Yule – that’s the time around Christmas and New Year in modern reckoning, but the actual period of Yule and its importance is still heavily debated – the narrative puts you firmly in the dark past from the very outset. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I liked the inclusion of little period details.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">These were sometimes a short description, a single word or a reference to a commonplace tool or practice, all of which contributed to setting the scene and the time.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The action follows the life of Harald, the second son of King Cnute and, therefore, the ‘spare’. Unlike his older sibling, Harald is not interested in the throne or the workings of his father’s court, but he becomes embroiled in state affairs when Cnute tasks him with curtailing the growing powers of King Rhydderch, who controlled vast tracts of land across Wales.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">To take on his foe and succeed, Harald must travel to Ireland and persuade his father’s allies to commit to the cause.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">With a reluctant hero in the form of Harald, who prefers the quiet life on his farm with his wife, the idyllic rural setting shifts from peace to battles and full-blown war.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The battle scenes were ruthless and eminently demonstrated the destruction, death and maiming that is always prevalent in what was essentially hand-to-hand combat on an enormous scale.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Does Harald achieve his objective?</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Sorry, but you’ll have to read the book for yourself!</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The narrative voice was gently paced despite the savageness of some of the scenes.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> The characters are interesting, and I was especially drawn to Harald and his wife, Selia. I</span><span style="font-family: arial;">nsights into their inner thoughts and feelings enable the reader to get close.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Of course, this is book four in the series. Will I go back and read the first three? Absolutely. I want to know where this all started and what I've missed so far.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><b style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><b style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;"><i>about the author …</i></b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;"> Garth Pettersen is an award-winning Canadian writer living in the Fraser Valley near Vancouver, BC, where he and his wife board horses on their farm. Pettersen has a BA in History from the University of Victoria and is a retired teacher. His short stories have appeared in anthologies and journals such as </span><i style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;">Blank Spaces</i><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;">, </span><i style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;">The Spadina Literary Review</i><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;">, and </span><i style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;">The Opening Line Literary 'Zine</i><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial;">.</span></div><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: justify;">Garth's historical fiction series, The Atheling Chronicles, is published by Tirgearr Publishing and is available on most online outlets. Book four, <i>The Sea’s Edge</i>, has just been released.</span><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><i style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"><br /></i></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><i style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitGY2t0OMnm_xs6GeZehT6aU4HG6bxQOp5YCDC_P8wLeJSoeGPHOqq28uk4cngXkM9Dim7B8GugT9J2lvDRGurhvELKhaIHd6LsOKlDC1QeF9t1tPkFaRIufGGxm__ygQFSvs_vAWCo-EgbhpolTgECoBOSMyvMA-6Pml59M-iYil6GuIsXs0AE8rfylY/s750/BK04TheSeasEdge.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitGY2t0OMnm_xs6GeZehT6aU4HG6bxQOp5YCDC_P8wLeJSoeGPHOqq28uk4cngXkM9Dim7B8GugT9J2lvDRGurhvELKhaIHd6LsOKlDC1QeF9t1tPkFaRIufGGxm__ygQFSvs_vAWCo-EgbhpolTgECoBOSMyvMA-6Pml59M-iYil6GuIsXs0AE8rfylY/s320/BK04TheSeasEdge.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div>about the book ... </i><span style="font-family: arial;">1030 C.E.: Harald, the second son of King Cnute—ruler of Engla-lond, Danmark, and Norvegr—with his wife Selia, attempt to live as landholders in Mercia, away from the constraint and intrigues of his father's court.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">However, on a rare visit, Cnute tells Harald he's being sent to the Kingdom of Dublin to meet with their Norse-Irish allies. Harald’s mission is to coordinate an invasion of the northern Welsh kingdom of Gwynedd to replace King Rhydderch who is growing too powerful on England’s borders.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Harald is reluctant to be involved in his father-king's affairs of state, and not just because his beloved wife, Selia, is unwell. Harald cannot refuse to go and assures Selia he will not have to take part in the fighting.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Once on his journey, Harold is not drawn to his Norse-Irish allies but comes to respect the foe he must kill.</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Will Harald carry out his father-king’s commands to unseat a strong and just rule, or will he tread a more righteous road, which will destroy the life he and Selia have built together?</span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="background: white; text-align: justify;"><b style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><i>You can get the book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Seas-Edge-Atheling-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B0CKZKH9MD/ref=sr_1_1?crid=22RAI49Z3KF5E&keywords=Garth+Pettersen&qid=1703087984&sprefix=garth+pettersen%2Caps%2C264&sr=8-1" style="color: #2b00fe;">Here</a></i></b></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br />You can follow Garth on his<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="http://www.garthpettersen.com/" style="color: #2b00fe;">Website</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>on his publisher’s<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Pettersen_Garth" style="color: #2b00fe;">Webpage</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>on<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/GarthP66" style="color: #2b00fe;">Facebook</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>and on<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Garth-Pettersen/author/B076G8N7L2?ref=ap_rdr&store_ref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true" style="color: #2b00fe;">Amazon</a></i></b></span>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-21082438347291583212024-01-23T06:00:00.372+00:002024-02-18T16:47:22.079+00:00I'm Off My Beaten Track in Egypt ... <div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmn06PIdP7aL2R9-hn-p64RhND25zeqdvVgIHqweUVIug2qpg3Bht489O0fFJ3RJxQOKdOW2LPhfrkZtEmedhLorqetHJ-cNhwIFT9CntjPOMRh2bO0MQpfXOvGOXv1ep5pckpv1IGw-5nmPxO07V-atIYOn6-0LVtP1PXYWHO6faXNqBApwjOmjMyakc/s1377/River&Lanscape05A.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1377" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmn06PIdP7aL2R9-hn-p64RhND25zeqdvVgIHqweUVIug2qpg3Bht489O0fFJ3RJxQOKdOW2LPhfrkZtEmedhLorqetHJ-cNhwIFT9CntjPOMRh2bO0MQpfXOvGOXv1ep5pckpv1IGw-5nmPxO07V-atIYOn6-0LVtP1PXYWHO6faXNqBApwjOmjMyakc/w400-h248/River&Lanscape05A.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>... and sailing on my blog today. Come and join me as I introduce some of my fellow travellers to you and a new arrival comes aboard ...</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>SAILING AND A STOWAWAY</b></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I've always been aware that when you have a random group of people together in one place, the majority are happy to go with the flow. But there's always one who stands out from the others for whatever reason. It's the same with a bunch of actors. As a director, you select your cast, you get everyone together to begin rehearsals, and very quickly, the 'difficult one' makes him/herself known. After nine days on board ship, I've realised that the same principle works for travellers, too!</div><div style="text-align: justify;">On sailing days, we have tea at five, and yesterday, some of the cracks in our little community were beginning to show. It is now quite clear that G— has been gradually and consistently shunned by about a third of my fellow travellers. B— isn't doing so well in the popularity stakes either, but then she does smoke like a chimney and talks at 275 decibels. Considering some of the comments she comes out with, I think she must be Uriah Heep's only living relative. And then there's I— I'm-in-Civil-Engineering-you-know and his South American Queen D— who are fast becoming the ship's snobs. At tea, it was quite clear that A— of Cumbria, a great tower of a man, had completely reached the end of his tether with I— and his wife D—.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Earlier today, I overheard some of our fellow travellers manoeuvring against some of the above-mentioned. J— made representations to M— about G—. J—'s case being that she had been singled out by G— and that he was deliberately sitting at her table in order to annoy her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">'I'm determined to have G—Free meals from today and onwards,' J announced to M— as they meandered along the deck in front of me. J— and M— agreed that they would sit at a table together hence forward.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Their plan set, and I couldn't wait for lunch to see how well it was implemented. Later, in the dining room, J— and her husband ensconced themselves at a table for <b>five</b> the moment the dinner gong rang. She also carefully leaned the back of one of the chairs up against the table to indicate only four places were available. Shortly afterwards, M— and her husband came into the dining room.</div></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> <div style="text-align: justify;">'May we join you?' M— asked politely, knowing full well that it was a foregone conclusion. Then there was a considerable kerfuffle as the four of them realised that the fifth chair was very accessible to anyone who came to the table, including G—. Like a game of musical chairs, they all swapped seats so that the fifth chair was in the most inaccessible spot!</div></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> <div style="text-align: justify;">I glanced around the room. Still no G—. I wondered if he was going to skip lunch today.</div></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> <div style="text-align: justify;">Then B—, cigarette in hand, came into the dining room, completely ignored J—'s beckonings, went straight to the immediately adjacent table and promptly sat down. Next came the affronted mumblings and murmurings between the two tables. B— drilled her cancer stick into extinction in her portable ashtray and announced at 562 decibels that she 'was staying put'. And still, there was no G—.</div></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> <div style="text-align: justify;">By which time, I was having great difficulty keeping my giggles under control. Everyone seemed to have missed the point. If you do not want to sit with G— you arrange with another couple to sit at a table for four and only four!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjx0KJHUUv9kze0zQbs-2QAdhTmUG7kO5ylfK1oHCQRYdyykst6qGM4guaOM5MJhcuacSCfLFWC_XGPe804TdsWgkJ82JMrMA7vvV7XIduU4DK8FZyBnoNdpe6uBYHQjQJgrYs-jX6zDEWbBqiK6NBPQhbHuA7PqBrmTtDlRkX_a5F19rH-chMBMGeUCc/s1322/River&Landscape02A.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1322" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjx0KJHUUv9kze0zQbs-2QAdhTmUG7kO5ylfK1oHCQRYdyykst6qGM4guaOM5MJhcuacSCfLFWC_XGPe804TdsWgkJ82JMrMA7vvV7XIduU4DK8FZyBnoNdpe6uBYHQjQJgrYs-jX6zDEWbBqiK6NBPQhbHuA7PqBrmTtDlRkX_a5F19rH-chMBMGeUCc/w400-h323/River&Landscape02A.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I spent the rest of the afternoon reading alone. Dinner was uneventful and the evening was spent watching Lawrence of Arabia and wondering about the new passenger that we had acquired. He or she was very shy and, in actual fact only K—, a banker from somewhere in the city, and myself were aware that we had a stowaway.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was happily watching the film when a movement on my left caught my eye. And there was the new passenger. A creature of about 8 or 9 inches long with a larger than-normal number of legs, around twenty or so at a guess. The brown thing - BT for short - took a casual stroll past the bar, stopped to look in for a second or two and then continued with their evening promenade. K— and I exchanged puzzled looks.</div></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> <div style="text-align: justify;">The film continued and, as Lawrence was about to be shunned by the British Government, BT returned from their stroll, cast a sideways glance at the telly, waved both antenna at it and then disappeared into their hiding place behind a large potted plant.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You just never know who you might bump into, do you?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>There will be more from my Egypt Journal over the coming weeks.</i></b></div></span><div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"> <br /></span><b style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> <br /></span></b><b style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> <br /></span></b><b style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> <br /></span></b><b style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"> <br /></span></b><br /></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-16033691790456664432024-01-16T06:00:00.101+00:002024-01-16T06:00:00.134+00:00Come stroll with me through Pont de l'Arche ...<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuqJXThbMTLstNXX40Y1hHEbGPN4U-WqEu-VE3yJGqYGpCwZvU3JT9STq5Iuc9h_qCfpH72VnT2WLnJEMV6XQV1bZGsIKHESxaQLKgGov0HplYD7WTgivwUmTH4ElbMicUDJQrLkL8wvr5LgxY8P3_InghG_YIrTaNR7oCUblj2X5cPNlbNwKC9llBIw/s3068/Pontdel'ArcheStreet03Insta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2554" data-original-width="3068" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnuqJXThbMTLstNXX40Y1hHEbGPN4U-WqEu-VE3yJGqYGpCwZvU3JT9STq5Iuc9h_qCfpH72VnT2WLnJEMV6XQV1bZGsIKHESxaQLKgGov0HplYD7WTgivwUmTH4ElbMicUDJQrLkL8wvr5LgxY8P3_InghG_YIrTaNR7oCUblj2X5cPNlbNwKC9llBIw/w400-h333/Pontdel'ArcheStreet03Insta.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"> <b><i><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"">... I'm picking up from where I left you in November last
year (you can read that post <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/11/come-stroll-with-me-through-pont-de.html" target="_blank">Here</a>). We were at the corner of rue André
Antoine and a little further down the
street is the church … </span></i></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And yes, it looks stunning, doesn’t it? Sitting as it does on the high ground above the river, it completely dominates the town, and it can be seen on the skyline for miles before you get here. Its position and size lead you to believe, at first sight, that it must be a very important building. But no, it really is just the local parish church. Come inside, and I’ll share its history with you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The church, Notre-Dame-des-Arts, has been in existence since the turn of the 15th century. Transcriptions of the parish accounts show that stone was bought in 1499-1500. The building, as we see it today, was created very much as a piecemeal project. In 1501 the first chapel began to be constructed. The north nave was completed around 1509, the vaulting much later and probably sometime in the 1540s and the south nave was constructed, vaulted and completed towards the end of the following decade.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The design and ornamentation of this edifice are very typical of French Gothic. But what makes this particular building so interesting is the overall plan. Unlike most other churches on this scale and of this period, there is only one door in the south-west corner. In addition, the nave is flanked by aisles on both the north and south sides. There is no transept or the typically gothic west façade that can be found on any number of churches/cathedrals of the same era. So, I can’t help but wonder what happened here. Is this particular building just the result of its piecemeal construction? Given that most buildings of this size would have taken a number of decades to complete, one would have expected to see many more as uniquely laid out as this one. Perhaps the real conclusion and explanation is about money - the original plans exceeding the actual funds, and therefore compromises were constantly being made during building. Whatever the truth, the church deserves more attention because it is, very probably, a bit of a one-off.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bricks and mortar done with, the story doesn’t end there. Look at the altarpiece. It dominates the whole of the interior and is built into a polygonal chapel extending out from the end of the nave. That’s not so different from many other religious buildings. But this was added much later and is baroque in style and created during the seventeenth century. The organ was a gift from Henry 4, who was King of Navarre from 1572 and King of France from 1589 to 1610 when he died. Henry 4 was the first of the Bourbon Kings.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJInkIQH5cSbL0Wgr2tXnW562erBvcPvUz8N4E-VsVjyWna9HyEKvN7SvWv7vOxTA2LrzQz-nAGSp3-uGnZurb2GGIYxgHSO5Xuv5g7RQdVkKxuFq7jmCONaJiCErIDYFzRPmVTTRg-L0BdM0rMgPvcH77j29KmrnXqz_f7BZBUBpkR4D_8GrR9CXBV8c/s3322/Pontdel'ArcheCathedralWindow02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3322" data-original-width="2760" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJInkIQH5cSbL0Wgr2tXnW562erBvcPvUz8N4E-VsVjyWna9HyEKvN7SvWv7vOxTA2LrzQz-nAGSp3-uGnZurb2GGIYxgHSO5Xuv5g7RQdVkKxuFq7jmCONaJiCErIDYFzRPmVTTRg-L0BdM0rMgPvcH77j29KmrnXqz_f7BZBUBpkR4D_8GrR9CXBV8c/s320/Pontdel'ArcheCathedralWindow02.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>Take a look at the windows whilst you are here. They date from either the 16th or 17th centuries. In particular, look at the two highly coloured windows to one side of the nave. These depict what was probably the major source of income for this sleepy little town with its vast church. Men are loading and unloading boats at the river at the foot of the town. After the Hundred Years War (1337-1453), most municipalities in northern France were verging on bankruptcy. But the river, used for trade along the Seine and the Eure, may have been the reason for this town’s swift rise in prosperity following the end of hostilities. Maybe that’s where the original income came from in 1499 to enable the purchase of the stone. Perhaps my contention above about the eccentricity of the church and the continuing availability of money is not so very far-fetched!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>If you enjoyed reading this post, you might also like to take a stroll with me through<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/08/come-stroll-with-me.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Joinville</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>or<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/11/come-stroll-with-me-through-pont-de.html" target="_blank">Argentan</a></span></i></b></div></span>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-48161126044347005352024-01-09T06:00:00.127+00:002024-01-09T06:00:00.138+00:00What's coming up this year ...<div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kJWJVxIkUdCZhzEAo0uZtEBh3VNkpBPHWgj7qQ9G9ourMDef55Cm8e-VD4Uc08CAJylREzxvT8fNZCkNRcNZ0UGbbqxf3dEjZWY2_ITew7mEjDsN65aCQbC8C3yNPm9ROt5CIvqzGTrz08oYbeVCK2n7T_IkpqmefVvhPSvFgxL124PQxXeQSV60sQQ/s3324/Cliffs&Bay&Flowers02B&W.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2956" data-original-width="3324" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3kJWJVxIkUdCZhzEAo0uZtEBh3VNkpBPHWgj7qQ9G9ourMDef55Cm8e-VD4Uc08CAJylREzxvT8fNZCkNRcNZ0UGbbqxf3dEjZWY2_ITew7mEjDsN65aCQbC8C3yNPm9ROt5CIvqzGTrz08oYbeVCK2n7T_IkpqmefVvhPSvFgxL124PQxXeQSV60sQQ/w400-h356/Cliffs&Bay&Flowers02B&W.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">A favourite pic, Babacombe</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">January is a time of year to reflect on the recently ended year and to look forward to whatever the future months might bring. 2023 was a very busy roller-coaster of a year for me. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There were fantastic highs, Shetland Noir, publication of my books and stories, for example, but there were also some crushing lows, the sudden and unexpected death of an old friend, the serious illness of another long-time friend and the various bits of bad news that seemed to dog me for the final half of last year. So, it is with some sadness and a little trepidation that I approach this new year of 2024.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The things I can control, this blog, my books, and my travel, are easy. I'm working on the first in a new series of crime stories, and I'm hoping to get the book published later this year. A new case for Jacques to solve is already being plotted and planned, and that will be out towards the end of the year. The fourth in the seasonal Paths anthologies will also be published in 2024. So look out for that, too.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Here on the blog, you can expect book reviews, author interviews and more travel-related pieces. I will also keep you updated with info about table sales and anything else I'm doing at book festivals as and when I know the details myself. In the coming weeks, you can expect to hear from Elisabeth Dunleavy, author of <i>No Way Home</i> and Gianette Murray, author of <i>A Supernatural Shindig</i> and a contributor to the <i>Spring Paths</i> anthology. All of which will be accompanied by some fantastic pics, as always!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So, I wait to see what 2024 can throw my way in the coming months, but I hope you'll join me on my journey...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-38383203116924071272024-01-01T00:30:00.010+00:002024-01-01T00:30:00.139+00:00Just to wish you all...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBlZCagWGYqGK8EastOvZzYmUs_o-TniKaLi7TwzKx1FRX1mX3C8vdoVjf3wItsYnYTdwCaiYFldDC8xpvAcL_TZozQAK1ZUt97tK0nHB2XplooCAPhmEcb3Hv-texVpfESrPH9c5IThJ_79RRUCVvZn6q9oTERwk8cnf-V00PtGRAC7nM5420A6N-6U/s1920/HappyNewYear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="1920" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYBlZCagWGYqGK8EastOvZzYmUs_o-TniKaLi7TwzKx1FRX1mX3C8vdoVjf3wItsYnYTdwCaiYFldDC8xpvAcL_TZozQAK1ZUt97tK0nHB2XplooCAPhmEcb3Hv-texVpfESrPH9c5IThJ_79RRUCVvZn6q9oTERwk8cnf-V00PtGRAC7nM5420A6N-6U/w602-h434/HappyNewYear.jpg" width="602" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-50614015001842756702023-12-27T06:00:00.446+00:002023-12-27T09:11:46.069+00:00Just because it's Twixmas ...<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"><i><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qV4vuuSuqfuNxTzpQG-nuJ9LUSDvR5jURN3-oY8uVn1lEBXRu3iQXRebbk-DFbuWQJaV_7iQ7fiZRDOQQ6SLXHUXzd9HiKiB5fJk78QHhIEkmlxqjeB3nXiXIlDwhG3TWJCTVcsN0riBnyMIUOncQH2zX67S3MQSEnckZ7mmB7fTqxMc0zvxq2-B04E/s1280/JackFrost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2qV4vuuSuqfuNxTzpQG-nuJ9LUSDvR5jURN3-oY8uVn1lEBXRu3iQXRebbk-DFbuWQJaV_7iQ7fiZRDOQQ6SLXHUXzd9HiKiB5fJk78QHhIEkmlxqjeB3nXiXIlDwhG3TWJCTVcsN0riBnyMIUOncQH2zX67S3MQSEnckZ7mmB7fTqxMc0zvxq2-B04E/s320/JackFrost.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Image courtesy of Sandra Hak, Pixabay</span></td></tr></tbody></table>... I have a little story for you. I hope it amuses you. Read on ...</i></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-GB"> A Tale of Sixpences</span></b></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;">A slim, bony hand reached out to pick up the receiver from the pristine white telephone on the desk.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Frost and Snow Detective Agency, how can I help?” Jack Frost grabbed a pen and notepad with his free hand.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Mrs McOven ’ere from the palace,” said the gruff voice at the other end of the line. “Mi sixpences for the puddings ’ave been half-inched from the Countin’ ’Ouse, and I need you or Manny Snow over ’ere right away to sort it.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack sat up straight and glanced across at his partner’s desk. The ‘In’ and ‘Out’ trays were overflowing; a scarf was hanging haphazardly on the back of the chair, and a pair of twigs, some chunks of coal, and a carrot were strewn across the leather inlay. Hmm, taking a break in the freezer, thought Jack.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I see,” said Frost, gazing out the window at the unseasonably warm and wet December weather. “And when did you first notice the sixpences were missing.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Twelve minutes ago.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack looked at the cuckoo clock on the wall.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“That’s sixteen-forty-two,” the blue and green wooden bird croaked as it popped out to confirm the current time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack made a note. “And where exactly are these sixpences kept, Mrs McOven?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“In His Nibs Countin’ ’Ouse like wot I said.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jack took a breath. “Yes, Madam. I’ve got that,” he said slowly. “But where is His Majesty’s Counting House?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Mrs McOven’s irritation manifested itself as a deep sigh followed by a pause from the other end of the line. “Tut! In the Tower, of course.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>A thought passed through Jack’s mind, and he scribbled the words ‘Inside Job’ in his notebook.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I see,” he said after a moment. “And who has access to the Counting House apart from His Majesty?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I don’t know, do I? I’m just the cook. Are you gonna get down ’ere and sort this, or are you gonna keep on wiv these bloody questions?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I’m just doing my job, Mrs McOven, and we will be there in thirty minutes,” said Jack before replacing the receiver. We’ll have to get statements from the Warders anyway, he reasoned, as he picked up his notebook and grabbed his hat from the peg by the door. Crossing to Manny’s desk, he scooped up his colleague’s bits and pieces and the scarf and marched to the small kitchen. Along the back wall were a series of upright freezers of various heights. He pulled open the door of the tallest and peered in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Wakey, wakey,” he shouted. “We’ve got a case, Manny.” With the final word, he stuck a twig into each side of his colleague’s substantially plump snow-white body.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Ouch!” Snow shouted. “Do you have to be so harsh?” He levered himself out onto the tiled floor. “Coals and carrot, please.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>As Jack passed over the remaining items, Manny gradually added them to his face and body. With everything in its rightful place, Emmanuel Snow stood tall.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Ah, that’s better,” he said, smoothing down the coals that lined his chest. “Right, let’s walk, and you can talk me through this new investigation.” Emmanuel Snow, Manny to his friends, grabbed his scarf from his colleague, lumbered across the room into the main office, and out of the door onto the street.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“We need to be discreet,” said Jack, closing the office door. “This is a job for the King.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Oh!” Manny raised a sparkling white eyebrow.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“We’re heading to the Tower of London,” said Jack. Sitting astride his ice-blue Vespa, he watched as Manny sculpted himself into the open convertible sidecar.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Some sixpences have gone missing from the Counting House,” said Jack, switching the ignition into life.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Inside job, then,” said Manny as he threaded his scarf across his back, pulled it up under his twigs and tied it above his head. Jack Frost was well-known as a speed freak. Manny settled his twigs in his lap and looked ahead. Jack pulled out into the late afternoon traffic with a determined look on his face.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhadEMqikW6wMrusAV6kWqFneMJpND0P-q3XfimeIcWhs0AhTbTaVziNCiGzFgws6qyM4b_XGtEBgND0ZNBXPlyNVt7Xw7W9pl9ejRtLI83d29fNqbibNQfLHdtRZImy4U-dJFsGvzOeIMr33KlRoxed524HH_ldbQpLg1DyyDL1L4AMke48oGjbn7FSsg/s667/BaubleSnowflake02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="667" height="41" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhadEMqikW6wMrusAV6kWqFneMJpND0P-q3XfimeIcWhs0AhTbTaVziNCiGzFgws6qyM4b_XGtEBgND0ZNBXPlyNVt7Xw7W9pl9ejRtLI83d29fNqbibNQfLHdtRZImy4U-dJFsGvzOeIMr33KlRoxed524HH_ldbQpLg1DyyDL1L4AMke48oGjbn7FSsg/w43-h41/BaubleSnowflake02.jpg" width="43" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Outside the Tower, a vast flock of blackbirds was mounting a slow and silent protest. The placards carried by every bird shouted loudly and clearly about the injustice done. The space above the sea of black feathers screamed indignation and discontent. As Jack manoeuvred the bike towards the gatehouse, he saw the rows of blackbirds leading the protest had come to a standstill, and many were settled on the ground as if roosting in preparation for sunset. At the front of the throng was an upside-down tea chest with a single blackbird on top.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Leaning on a crutch, his right leg in plaster and a loud hailer to his beak, “It was me!” The thrush took a breath and stared at his audience. Raising his left wing, he spoke again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I did it,” he said, his voice a little distorted by the megaphone. “Someone had to take action. These peaceful protests have achieved nothing for decades.” He let his left wing drop and surveyed the crowd.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack parked the bike and stood silently, waiting for a reaction. Other than a few murmurs of support, the assembled crowd remained calm.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“What we need is more action. What we need is Mrs McOven sacked.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“What we need is no more pies,” interjected a female bird in the third row.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“And equal rights with the ravens,” said another voice further back in the crowd.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The injured bird on the soapbox picked up the sentiments. “No more baking,” he bellowed through the loudspeaker. “No more torture by heat exhaustion. No more pies.” The chant initiated; it gradually rippled through row upon row of voices. “No more pies. Equal rights with ravens.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>As the mantra continued and picked up in intensity, Jack and Manny made the rest of the way towards the entrance to the castle on their own ice and snow. As they stepped over the birds, some moved, some jostled their placards in annoyance, but the chant continued with increasing ferocity. As Jack and Manny approached the bridge across the old moat, two warders came out of the gatehouse.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Frost and Snow?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Yes,” said Jack.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Follow me,” said the more elderly-looking man in uniform as he turned and led them through the gate and towards the interior of the Tower.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“That protest is getting a bit aggressive,” said Jack.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Yes,” said the Warder. “It’s been getting more aggressive since the maid was attacked in the garden three days ago. But we can handle it.” He turned into a narrow corridor with a single door at the end. The Warder reached for his keys, unlocked and opened the door for Jack and Manny to pass through.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“You’ll be safe from the birds in this part of the castle,” he said as he firmly secured the door behind them. The Warder set off at a brisk march through an arch and into a courtyard.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Who has access to the Counting House?” Jack asked.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“His Majesty, The Chancellor and the Chief Warder.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>They turned into another corridor of stone and then took some stairs. “We will pass the Chief’s office on the way. Would you like to stop there first?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Yes,” said Jack. “Manny, you can interview Mrs McOven, and then we’ll met up and confer.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Manny tried to nod.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Scarf!” Jack said, rolling his eyes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Oh yes,” said Manny as he removed his temporary headgear and slung the scarf around his neck.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Chief’s office,” said the Warder as he opened the solid wooden door. “Mr Frost, Sir, to talk about the security arrangements and the missing money, Sir.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Thank you, Roberts. Come in, Mr Frost, and take a seat.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack pulled out his notebook. “Your name rank and number,” he said, pen poised.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Chief Warder Robin Clovis, and we don’t bother with the number thing these days.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack scribbled the details in his notebook and then looked up. “Right.” He took in the broad grin on the Chief Warder’s face and the sparkle in his pale blue eyes. As Jack’s stare hardened, the temperature in the room began to plummet.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I’m here to get facts, Warder Clovis,” he said. “Let’s just stick with that, shall we?” Jack shifted in his seat. “So, who has keys to the Counting House?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Warder Clovis shivered. “I do. There’s an emergency set in the vault at the palace which only the Chancellor and the King can access, and there’s a single key for the door to the Strong Room that I keep here for the use of Mrs McOven.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack pursed his lips. “A single key for Mrs McOven to use,” he repeated. “Why?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“She needs access when she’s making her puddings and cakes.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Do all her puddings and cakes include coinage, then?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Well, no, I don’t suppose they do, but the King’s children’s birthday cakes, christening cakes, Christmas puddings, and others for special occasions do.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>It’s a wonder royalty have any teeth left, thought Jack as he considered the weight of coinage that might be needed for a whole year.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“So, how many sixpences are there then?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Warder Clovis shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said. “Mrs McOven’s currency is stored in a blue velvet coin bag which sits on the corner of the small safe in the strong room.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack frowned. “Why not in the safe?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Well, they are not legal tender, and the safe is only for the keys to open the interior door to the main treasury where this building’s vault is housed.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I see,” said Jack, his mind a complete fog. “I think I’d better take a look.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The Chief Warder escorted Jack through corridors, up and down stairs and into a vast, dark chamber. No windows were visible, but Jack detected a slight movement of air above his head. His eyes gazed up at the vaulted stone ceiling and around the walls. Not a single chink of light was visible, and yet the movement of air was there.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The Warder held up his keys. “These are for the door over there, and that’s the entrance to the main treasury. I can’t open that door for you. I must have an escort of four other Warders with me, and I must have the appropriate authorisation and paperwork as I am only allowed to access the various boxes that contain whatever is on the list of wanted items.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack nodded. “But Mrs McOven’s coins are kept where?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Right here,” said Clovis as he turned towards a small green safe that stood to one side of the open door. He tapped the circular white crocheted mat that sat on the metal. “Mrs McOven’s coin bag is normally here.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“But now it’s not,” said Jack as he mentally convinced himself further that this was indeed an inside job. “And Mrs McO came in here earlier this afternoon alone, did she?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“No! No, that is not allowed. Mrs McOven has to arrange with me a time and a day to collect the coins in advance.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“And when did she do that?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Two days ago. We agreed that we would collect the money at sixteen-thirty today.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“So, tell me what happened, then?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Warder Clovis sighed. Adopting a military stance and tone, he rattled off the details. “Mrs McOven presented herself at my office at sixteen-twenty precisely. I collected her key from my safe and handed it over. We both marched to the Strong Room and arrived a minute or two shy of our agreed handover time. Mrs McOven used her key to open the outer door. We both entered at the same time. Mrs McOven let out a screech. I noted that the coin bag was open and empty at sixteen-thirty precisely. We secured the room immediately. It was agreed that Mrs McOven would report the theft to you.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“And where is the coin bag now?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Mrs McOven has it.” Warder Clovis relaxed a little. “Will you be bringing in your forensics people now?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I shouldn’t think so,” said Jack. He walked around the small safe, examining every inch. With a breath, he created a thin film of frost on the top, which showed there were no fingerprints to be found. The floor showed no indication of footprints, either. “Me and Manny have … our methods,” he said, tapping a long finger against a long, thin nose.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Ah.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Right, I’m done here,” said Jack. “Let’s go to the kitchens and see what Manny has found.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFm2M1EhxpMf8as1Dn7km7qJE4IddTSi7GjAtlJJ_Vr3VqmRgTMP9lm6jp-hvvxuDFh0ke4c9_OqsOAuNDiC-e14qkxLQ-J0bePSccORjGuHTzMjkv_yDiNPEnt6SL0bOm61KZkhKvXYSCILZnysw9ZYFrN3ef2eLfgyE_jRhF9UlbZZdgpFkwjI_-OHM/s667/BaubleSnowflake02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="667" height="46" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFm2M1EhxpMf8as1Dn7km7qJE4IddTSi7GjAtlJJ_Vr3VqmRgTMP9lm6jp-hvvxuDFh0ke4c9_OqsOAuNDiC-e14qkxLQ-J0bePSccORjGuHTzMjkv_yDiNPEnt6SL0bOm61KZkhKvXYSCILZnysw9ZYFrN3ef2eLfgyE_jRhF9UlbZZdgpFkwjI_-OHM/w48-h46/BaubleSnowflake02.jpg" width="48" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CDWezxdnx4MyA5_BOPRltFxfyk5pjgQtObsee_DACTIFJznUR91CJteByG4NDyrBNksiZ2k3hE60FZzrJh9r9v8sFczM9vfrHv-RyAh8_d-7Iy8dhxItMfPePVas1UHeL8iJRcSnPijsz_I2Cxf6mdWfAfMlxDVkjOykqn5AnSWMPu4FSEWP6ipLjwY/s1280/EmannuelSnow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CDWezxdnx4MyA5_BOPRltFxfyk5pjgQtObsee_DACTIFJznUR91CJteByG4NDyrBNksiZ2k3hE60FZzrJh9r9v8sFczM9vfrHv-RyAh8_d-7Iy8dhxItMfPePVas1UHeL8iJRcSnPijsz_I2Cxf6mdWfAfMlxDVkjOykqn5AnSWMPu4FSEWP6ipLjwY/s320/EmannuelSnow.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Image courtesy of Alana Jordan, Pixabay</span></td></tr></tbody></table>Twenty minutes later, Jack was in the kitchens. Manny was nowhere to be seen<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Walk-in freezer, through the arch to the pantry, and it’s the first door on the left,” said Mrs McOven. “He was dripping all over mi floor.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Not surprised with this heat,” muttered Jack as he moved towards the arch. There were numerous doors and alcoves. He pulled open the tall metal door on his left and stepped inside. “Manny?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Right here, Jack, with the legs of lamb.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack surveyed the various rows of meat on hooks and started down an aisle on his right.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I thought it was an inside job,” said Manny as his colleague came into view. “But now I’m not so sure.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“My thoughts, too,” said Jack, taking a deep breath of the ice-filled air. “It would have been easy for Mrs McO to pocket the bag of coins whilst Warder Clovis was entering the room. There were no fingerprints or footprints, but …” He let his thoughts flow away through his mind.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“I know those blackbirds want rid of Mrs McOven, but she comes across to me as someone who is as honest as the day is long. She said that none of the coins in her bag were legal tender. She told me that straight out, adding that she couldn’t understand why anyone would want old coins.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack nodded. “Old they may be, but they could still have a value to a collector,” he said. “And when you consider the current ownership, the provenance, that could be enough for a rich collector to commission the theft for themselves.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Manny grimaced. “Perhaps,” he said. “But I did find this,” Manny tipped up the coin bag and let a small electric-blue feather float out onto the cold air.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack held out his hand and caught the feather in his open palm, and examined it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Interesting,” he said. “And there’s something about that Strong Room that bothers me.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“What?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Hmm,” said Jack. “I’m going outside to call up a north wind. You get the Chief Warder, go to the Strong Room and remain at the entrance. Watch what happens.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Manny stood up and threw his scarf around his neck. “You’ve got a hunch, Jack?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Frost nodded, turned, and strode out of the freezer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjagn-nnUIt3XfMOjWwJ5k1kwWlHZgKAqEarXyZHo_AAL2TW0xi2a7BJZ7Ih_Hl5NLHWx9jpZxNEQcBpAcxAR2Kn9wXjXqmDVAKenZMjqCceZHPV_nqDdU5o5uvZIepXa5igiLeJlFL8Dq8W-_fveJzZcq9Z3OJo4Zt7J-cW92qFRv4EY7aDK2csXqISjg/s667/BaubleSnowflake02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="667" height="47" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjagn-nnUIt3XfMOjWwJ5k1kwWlHZgKAqEarXyZHo_AAL2TW0xi2a7BJZ7Ih_Hl5NLHWx9jpZxNEQcBpAcxAR2Kn9wXjXqmDVAKenZMjqCceZHPV_nqDdU5o5uvZIepXa5igiLeJlFL8Dq8W-_fveJzZcq9Z3OJo4Zt7J-cW92qFRv4EY7aDK2csXqISjg/w49-h47/BaubleSnowflake02.jpg" width="49" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the courtyard, Jack took a deep breath. With his head back, he exhaled long and slow. At first, a chill breeze came from the north. In moments, it became a strong, freezing wind and then a lashing gale that hit the corner of the Tower where the Strong Room was located. Jack raised his bony hand, and the wind dissipated, leaving behind a trail of debris on the ground.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jack moved across to investigate, a spiny forefinger sifting through the stone dust and small pieces of rubble he recognised as parts of the ribbing in the vaulting. He spied another feather. A white one. Looking up at the sky, he heard the calls of various birds disturbed by the wind. But there was one particular voice that he recognised. He grinned and strode back in to meet up with his colleague.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>In the Strong Room, at the corner of the Tower, Manny and the Chief Warder gazed up at a small hole in the vaulting that had been partially hidden by the ribbing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Just as I thought,” said Jack as he surveyed the damage.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“But no one can get up there,” said Warder Clovis. “This is the inner court, and we have regular patrols, and anyone accessing the tower would have been seen.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack held up the two feathers. “Perhaps,” he said. “But what about the Jays in the nearby canopies of the trees in the outer courtyard or the trees beyond the moat?”<span> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Warder Clovis removed his cap and scratched his head. “Are you serious?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Absolutely,” said Jack. “Those pesky Jays will peck a hole in glass to get what they want.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Right,” Warder Clovis stared at the floor. “Right,” he said. Donning his cap, he stood to attention. “I’ll marshal the men, and we’ll get those trees searched immediately.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_tFlbJEtoEYmuVnFKzPOmsokMq7OzTv2OL0NBC7PEpH04htvi0xsOON1rM_XUOHCV04P4dH5mc_LZzfiMTq2qvoAHrVv-rIO2yS29yqd-aLxNTxNtg9iAkD7etOTELfXYxT-nzuwmAhCMiSr3zWftlPRZB5GWYjwTarYUlJ8ievSQLbJ2iNhxi1YO6f4/s667/BaubleSnowflake02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="667" height="51" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_tFlbJEtoEYmuVnFKzPOmsokMq7OzTv2OL0NBC7PEpH04htvi0xsOON1rM_XUOHCV04P4dH5mc_LZzfiMTq2qvoAHrVv-rIO2yS29yqd-aLxNTxNtg9iAkD7etOTELfXYxT-nzuwmAhCMiSr3zWftlPRZB5GWYjwTarYUlJ8ievSQLbJ2iNhxi1YO6f4/w54-h51/BaubleSnowflake02.jpg" width="54" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Case closed,” said Manny as he settled behind his desk. “All monies recovered from the bird’s nests and Mrs McOven happy.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Nice of her to offer us a pudding for Christmas,” said Jack.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>“Yes, but you turned it down. I would have gladly accepted.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Jack sniffed. “And you would have had all the Jays shot rather than getting them re-homed and in rehab to cure them of their thieving ways.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Manny smiled. “You know me too well, Jack.” He stood and divested himself of his scarf, carrot, coals and twigs. “Time for bed,” he said.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>I hope you enjoyed this story. My central characters, Frost and Snow, first appeared in a one-act play recorded for local radio in 2011. I've always known I wasn't finished with these two, so it was great fun to bring them back for this story.</i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>An abridged version of this tale first appeared on the Facebook page of the UK Crime Book Club on December 15th.</i></b></div></span>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-24328246989188988872023-12-12T06:00:00.089+00:002023-12-12T09:42:15.857+00:00It's the time of year...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBMp88x3ZjL7174GanvF0ff1GQpkbGEUnSWU6HhCah1pNxGasg6FVbON2OXhvgk7isupR1bgYlXZ3XkuG-LXmmd_BPyrbcXWY-WCCfd1-bNuUzS4f1HdY2t8lwGM7gVUUaOk_VWRRN44IEJ1ic-qpgmGi2xY5QA4BTY2r7HbNR4t374NMUNKf6D85dxr8/s1280/SnowonBerries.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="1280" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBMp88x3ZjL7174GanvF0ff1GQpkbGEUnSWU6HhCah1pNxGasg6FVbON2OXhvgk7isupR1bgYlXZ3XkuG-LXmmd_BPyrbcXWY-WCCfd1-bNuUzS4f1HdY2t8lwGM7gVUUaOk_VWRRN44IEJ1ic-qpgmGi2xY5QA4BTY2r7HbNR4t374NMUNKf6D85dxr8/w595-h394/SnowonBerries.jpg" width="595" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Merry Christmas</i></b></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">... when I move away from my computer, my writing and my books and take a break. So this will be my last post for 2023. My next post will be on January 9th, 2024. But, there may be a little surprise for you all at Twixmas - so remember to check back then!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Thank you for reading and following my blog. I hope the various articles have entertained and informed.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Thank you to all you readers out there who have one or more of my books on your bookshelves or on your Kindles. I really appreciate the time you've taken to read my simple little stories. And if you left me a review, thank you again. Your feedback is invaluable.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And finally, if you celebrate Christmas - and I always do - may your Christmas be a happy one. May I just wish everyone happiness and peace.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: georgia; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Angela</i></b></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Photo courtesy of Pixabay</i></span></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-9350985586811431292023-12-05T06:00:00.111+00:002023-12-05T09:34:47.382+00:00Did you know that...<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0pV8M8Bvo6HsrQSULZmia71X4cdrTj7qy854rM9IvvfuAH26mjiW60wX_LGtnVGgoFf_iqYx_2OWpSimlx5Kx859_eGxsaECfnfJHW_mK7liCENPZmoYRpcpIjK351jhifbDBiPdYprdJxQyJ32Dt9xO9xP8nlnYT8Qlw55mqRhyBUX7nmGlBeMxZJM/s3422/ACCFrontispiece.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3422" data-original-width="2114" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx0pV8M8Bvo6HsrQSULZmia71X4cdrTj7qy854rM9IvvfuAH26mjiW60wX_LGtnVGgoFf_iqYx_2OWpSimlx5Kx859_eGxsaECfnfJHW_mK7liCENPZmoYRpcpIjK351jhifbDBiPdYprdJxQyJ32Dt9xO9xP8nlnYT8Qlw55mqRhyBUX7nmGlBeMxZJM/w248-h400/ACCFrontispiece.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>... perhaps one of the most
well-known Christmas stories, A
Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, was pirated? Read on…</i></b></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">A
Christmas Carol</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> was published in December 1843. But it was pirated. It seems that even in 19<sup>th</sup> century
Britain there were any number of fraudsters who were only too willing to rip off authors!</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;">Realising that Dickens was a
well-known writer and hoping to make a significant profit for little effort, Richard Egan Lee, John Haddock and Henry Hewitt pirated Dickens' story and published
a first instalment in their own weekly rag called ‘<i>Parley’s Illuminated Library</i>’.
The intention was to continue with instalments of the story.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;">But Dickens decided enough was
enough. This wasn’t the first time his
work had been plagiarised, but it was the first time that he took legal
action. Dickens sued the pirates in
court with the case beginning on January 9<sup>th</sup>, 1844. The case was heard in the Court of Chancery,
which was a court of equity rather than a criminal court. Dickens' lawyer pleaded that his reputation
as a writer had been tarnished by the piracy, that his income from the book
would be reduced, and that his intellectual property had been stolen. Not that that particular term was used back
then.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;">Interestingly, Lee, Haddock and
Hewitt argued that they had ‘re-originated’ and ‘condensed’ the story, thereby
‘improving’ it for the general reader.
They were determined to fight the case and had the temerity to suggest
to the court that their version of the story was far superior to Dickens' original! Therefore, Mr Dickens should be pleased with their work and not seek redress in court.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;">When comparisons were made
between Dickens' story and the ‘improved’ version of Lee, Haddock and Hewitt it
became clear that the story had not been materially changed despite the use of
the new title of ‘<i>A Christmas Ghost Story</i>’. Indeed, the central characters and the overall
plot were barely disguised. The case was
settled in Dickens' favour and Lee, Haddock and Hewitt were ordered to surrender
any remaining copies of their work for destruction, to pay compensation, and to
pay all court costs.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQw4yOZp-g014DmAaGjpRpQHnE6-PWsAABrK1288eKFtBqh8K9Xa5JmibRPyQACZI5m-7JcHWfw9X1Aou5WRhScEPCuAxsYwNmM0W8SrPBg3J7dT1etFVqtjqoPXTWIT6getNePfJVjROsZAvJp306q2fAJdknhArlSb_XoMfFkImpmvCL7AQoxkt1ys4/s3248/ACCMarleysGhost.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3248" data-original-width="2573" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQw4yOZp-g014DmAaGjpRpQHnE6-PWsAABrK1288eKFtBqh8K9Xa5JmibRPyQACZI5m-7JcHWfw9X1Aou5WRhScEPCuAxsYwNmM0W8SrPBg3J7dT1etFVqtjqoPXTWIT6getNePfJVjROsZAvJp306q2fAJdknhArlSb_XoMfFkImpmvCL7AQoxkt1ys4/w158-h200/ACCMarleysGhost.jpg" width="158" /></a></div>Unfortunately, Dickens did not
get the outcome he was hoping for. On
February 19<sup>th</sup>, 1844 Lee and Haddock declared themselves
bankrupt. As such there were no funds
to pay anything to Dickens despite the court ruling.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">However,
Dickens did get some solace from the case.
He got his story back, and his personal experience of the Court of
Chancery would undoubtedly have provided the necessary insight to write <i>Bleak House</i> which he published in
1852. He also worked hard to get the
Court of Chancery reformed.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>If you enjoyed reading this post you might also be interested in a related post about Dickens which you can see<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2020/06/in-memory-of-dickens.html" target="_blank">Here</a></span></i></b></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>The illustrations are all taken from my 1930 Odhams Press illustrated edition.</i></b></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-50467030219993754032023-11-28T06:00:00.132+00:002024-02-21T15:09:27.715+00:00I'm reviewing No Way Home ... <div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Cf0nD_cSNCe9SMWP09ivh-JiFq7AZ7vclN953FOhdyGWhB25JqWyiwJUvmNjaXpfgBhGGuVBx0rCIbc_-IGza_kuYjbK3tSD0MqfLfsrFNMEdQXH7Y2kg1yVKeSQ7Tp39ca5QIDMQIvGqZIEwZwv62hKQc34Ny7PCmCYCaqDjwYKJDyKBMPkL5TRkdI/s425/NoWayHome.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="283" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Cf0nD_cSNCe9SMWP09ivh-JiFq7AZ7vclN953FOhdyGWhB25JqWyiwJUvmNjaXpfgBhGGuVBx0rCIbc_-IGza_kuYjbK3tSD0MqfLfsrFNMEdQXH7Y2kg1yVKeSQ7Tp39ca5QIDMQIvGqZIEwZwv62hKQc34Ny7PCmCYCaqDjwYKJDyKBMPkL5TRkdI/w266-h400/NoWayHome.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>... by Elisabeth Dunleavy. Read on ...</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I was approached
by the author of this book and asked for a review. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I am so glad that she plucked up the courage
to do that.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">It has been a privilege to
read this memoir.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The story is one
of family and war. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">In some respects, it
is very much a private and personal history of two lives.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">In other respects, it is a direct historical
record of events seen from an individual point of view.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The central
characters are two sisters who are separated by the 1939/45 conflict in Europe.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">They are sent to work camps, they suffer the privations
of being made homeless, they witness the destruction of towns and cities by the
Allies during the blanket bombing raids of 1944, and they eventually find each
other – but neither of them is the person they were before hostilities started
in 1939.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As the base
documents for this book are diaries and letters, the style of writing is very
much that of the owners of the words.</span><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><span style="font-family: arial;">Any reader who picks up this book expecting a modern novel narrative will be
disappointed.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">What I found fascinating
about the two voices in this memoir is that they are both distinct and very
strong.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Following their individual lives
through war, each taking their own route was as page-turning as an enthralling
novel.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The sister's personalities
are often put to the test as they recount their experiences, wishes, hopes and
needs against the background of Nazism and the devastating upheaval of war.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Because of the
subject matter, some passages are difficult to read – the direct eye-witness description
of the level of destruction in Dresden is just one example.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">It resonates particularly with events in
Europe and the Middle East today.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">But
the most telling aspect of the whole of this book is that you know from the
outset that what is recorded are individuals' actual thoughts, feelings, experiences,
and encounters in their own real time.</span><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><span style="font-family: arial;">As such, that makes this tome a significant piece of social
history.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">These are two stories that had
to be told, and the telling has been exceptionally well done.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>You can get the book on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/No-Way-Home-One-Sisters-ebook/dp/B0CJPLSWBV/ref=sr_1_1?crid=WFB19F2DP2W3&keywords=No+Way+Home+by+Elisabeth+dunleavy&qid=1701085512&sprefix=no+way+home+by+elisabeth+dunleavy%2Caps%2C224&sr=8-1" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Amazon</span></a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>or from Elisabeth's<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://edun-writer.com/" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Website</span></a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>where you will find lots more information. </i></b></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>You can take a peek inside <a href="https://b2l.bz/NOrrpP" style="color: #2b00fe;">Here</a></i></b></span><b><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br />You may also be interested in my review of <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/08/im-reviewing-vanished-collection-by.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">The Vanished Collection</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;">, </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/05/im-reviewing-clouds-over-paris.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Clouds over Paris</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;">, </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/03/im-reviewing-light-of-days.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">The Light of Days</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;">, </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/10/im-reviewing-betrayal-of-anne-frank.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">The Betrayal of Anne Frank</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;">, </span>or<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/01/im-reviewing-french-bakers-war.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">The French Baker's War</a></span></i></b>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-11249533905563760762023-11-21T06:00:00.298+00:002024-02-19T15:14:24.251+00:00I'm Off My Beaten Track in Deir-El-Bahri ...<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDLu3SKI4JqhomOindHI0bckWgWdXff2bPgDq7esb_Ngb03NrvHQWL1PdG9PMoicYh2or3v69xGGK6IvtcYJ_aG0alEKe2yVgslOYvs1tOjMkPccfl68yHg8LxczRrKmTlHf5eVZrK21BxnIxH-kA5LltHdWPjpyrDnNnNOYxwb3nnYf4ekwxJ47xpzA/s1426/SenNedJem03.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1174" data-original-width="1426" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDLu3SKI4JqhomOindHI0bckWgWdXff2bPgDq7esb_Ngb03NrvHQWL1PdG9PMoicYh2or3v69xGGK6IvtcYJ_aG0alEKe2yVgslOYvs1tOjMkPccfl68yHg8LxczRrKmTlHf5eVZrK21BxnIxH-kA5LltHdWPjpyrDnNnNOYxwb3nnYf4ekwxJ47xpzA/w400-h329/SenNedJem03.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>... today. This post will be my last post from my notes in my Egypt Journal for this year. There will be more posts in the New Year. But for the moment, come and meet Sen Ned Jem ...</i></b></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>THEBES REVISITED</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A 5.00 a.m. call and a 6.00 a.m. start from the plank that takes us from the boat. We're moored at Luxor, a place that was once the centre of the Ancients' world. Nefertari is tied to a boat, that is moored to another boat, that is roped to yet another boat, that is secured to the bank. I guess triple parking is acceptable here!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This bank of the river has a purpose-built promenade and is lined with new buildings of no character whatsoever. As we walked along the promenade to the tourist ferry I noticed a local pizzeria. MacDonald's seems to be all that is missing!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It's not the temples and monuments of Kings and Queens that we will be visiting today. We're headed to Deir-El-Bahri. This is the remains of an Egyptian village between the Valleys of the Kings and the Queens where the workers who decorated and built the tombs were housed.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">What remains of the houses indicates that they were made of mud bricks and the interiors were plastered and painted. If you look closely, you can see small traces of the artwork. Each house had its own cellar - a hole in the ground in the floor of the main room which was covered with a large flat stone - to store grain, perishables, and wine. An early refrigerator then!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Above the village are the tombs of some of the notable workers. The most impressive is that of Sen NedJem. The tomb is accessed by a steep narrow stairway cut into the bedrock which leads to the entrance to the burial chamber. At 5 feet 2 tall, it's not often that I can claim to be too tall for a doorway. But I can here - the entrance is so low even I have to bend double. I spare a thought for our fellow 6-footers waiting for their opportunity to visit the tomb.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As I step into the burial chamber and stand upright again, I am confronted with a mass of bright colours. Shaped like a huge sarcophagus, the room is decorated with as much care and attention as that lavished on a Pharaoh. The atmosphere is humid, the air warm and stale, but the extravagance of the paintings in the tomb are well worth the effort.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Gazing around the walls I can see the full preparations for the afterlife. It's as though I've stepped into the ceremony itself. As the sun sets the body of the Sen Ned Jem is shown being prepared for burial by Anubis. Then he is carried in a solar boat to the court of Osiris. The god of the underworld sits in judgment with the help of the goddess of truth, Ma'at, and the god of wisdom, the ibis-headed Thoth. Finally, after judgment, we see Sen Ned Jem in heaven surrounded by his family and forebears</span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.2px; text-align: justify;">.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.2px; text-align: justify;">I'm left wondering how long it took for Sen Ned Jem's to be prepared for him. I'm also curious to understand how work allocation was done all those millennia ago. If the primary reason for the existence of the village is to build tombs and decorate them for each successive Pharoah, who did the work for Sen Ned Jem?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.2px; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6fYaqF1hNRANTnS-DplLgGwVBPFC1McMoJ_7jZ8o7kEQCm11V7cxPdyiYIZToRKHhWl3eChPov7KpLO1LoUdVsuss1yrYGlt9X9brq6Q-jGfMTzSo0J5xW5IIBslFLnZfJQSCkSNGPuIB1pJ7P8LiFrN7BbvY9GfsfnCNQyymjb-fVAujLv7-MvlwHvI/s1595/SenNedJem01.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1160" data-original-width="1595" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6fYaqF1hNRANTnS-DplLgGwVBPFC1McMoJ_7jZ8o7kEQCm11V7cxPdyiYIZToRKHhWl3eChPov7KpLO1LoUdVsuss1yrYGlt9X9brq6Q-jGfMTzSo0J5xW5IIBslFLnZfJQSCkSNGPuIB1pJ7P8LiFrN7BbvY9GfsfnCNQyymjb-fVAujLv7-MvlwHvI/w400-h291/SenNedJem01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Eventually, I have to leave the stunning artwork behind. Our guide reminds us that there are other people waiting outside the tomb. Reluctantly I make my way along the low corridor and out into the blistering heat of the morning. It might only be just after ten, but it feels like I'm in a vast oven that has been left on. Even the slight breeze is hot and there's not a scrap of shade anywhere.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.2px;">Back on the boat, and I'm able to do a bit of research. Sen Ned Jem was an official or artisan who lived in the 19th Dynasty during the reigns of Seti 1 and Rameses 2. He may have been a scribe but as his mummy has not been x-rayed there is very little other information known about him other than the fact that he was a member of the community of tomb-builders...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.2px;"><b><i>It is possible, of course, that Sen Ned Jem's mummified body has now been examined. The above notes in my travel journal were made at the time of my actual visit.</i></b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></b></div><div><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>If you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy my earlier posts about<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/06/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-cairo.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Cairo</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/07/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-giza.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Giza</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/08/im-off-my-beaten-track-solar-sailing.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Solar Sailing</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/02/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-tell-el-amarna.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Tell-el-Amarna</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/04/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-assiut.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Assiut</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/10/im-off-my-beaten-track.html" target="_blank"></a></span></i></b><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial;"><b><i>Abu Simbel</i></b></span><b style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/10/im-off-my-beaten-track.html" target="_blank"></a> </span>and<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/09/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-egypt.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Egypt</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><span>generally</span><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>- just click the links.</i></b></div><p></p><div><br /><div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: justify;"><b><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" lang="EN-GB" style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt;"><br /></span></b></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"> <br /></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"> <br /></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"> <br /></span><br /><div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left;"> </span></span> </div></div></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-1460633944451146652023-11-14T06:00:00.069+00:002023-11-14T06:00:00.136+00:00Come stroll with me through Pont de l’Arche…<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivdYAV83tC0TGD0Qg1lCA3xjXb1ApiaWYsFD7lw1rtq6Q3-TIAEHtC6HP12VixOSmrKZ32no81CelwBA1sswU_0moaubMSGK3EC2VL-yIvqPmzgRtTh2H_gRcAxmgWSj8W7daT6B6mkiY_i3sFYJouE1_zE4DgYgLlWhTiJqXSKgPcPpDGFyKLS6j7qWU/s2421/Pontdel'ArcheStreet04Insta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2203" data-original-width="2421" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivdYAV83tC0TGD0Qg1lCA3xjXb1ApiaWYsFD7lw1rtq6Q3-TIAEHtC6HP12VixOSmrKZ32no81CelwBA1sswU_0moaubMSGK3EC2VL-yIvqPmzgRtTh2H_gRcAxmgWSj8W7daT6B6mkiY_i3sFYJouE1_zE4DgYgLlWhTiJqXSKgPcPpDGFyKLS6j7qWU/w400-h364/Pontdel'ArcheStreet04Insta.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>… a sleepy little town just south of the city of
Rouen. Read on…<br /></i></b></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I’m camped here in Pont de l’Arche right by the
river. The town sits on the left bank of
the Seine where it meets the river Eure.
A bridge spans the confluence of the two rivers and provides the main route
way into town. With a population of
around 4,000 inhabitants, it is a quiet and peaceful little place. However, that’s not so for the history of
this town.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It’s a ten-minute walk from the campsite to the
centre of town. I’m taking rue Alphonse
Samain from the quay by the river for about two hundred metres and then I’m
taking a right onto rue André Antoine.
Don’t miss the plaque on the wall on the right at the entrance to the
street. There’s important information
there.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This street leads down to the magnificent church of
Notre-Dame-des-Arts, and I will take you there in another post. But today, I want to introduce you to the
owner of the name of this street.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Lieutenant-Colonel Antoine was born on March 29<sup>th</sup>
(also my birthday!), 1920 in St Dizier, a city on the far eastern side of the
country. He studied at the <i>École Centrale de TSF</i> and worked as a
radio engineer. He came to Les Damps, a
small village just 1.5 kilometres west of Pont de l’Arche, to live and work. He joined the 8<sup>th</sup> Engineering Regiment
in Versailles and fought for France until the armistice with the occupying
forces was signed. He was<span lang="EN-GB"> demobilised</span> in February 1941 and he immediately put his skills and knowledge to
work on behalf of the resistance movement.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">André quickly realised that there was an opportunity
for him to take control. He created and
organised small groups of resistance workers across the whole <i>d</i><i><span lang="EN-GB">épartement</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> of Eure. He masterminded and was involved in many
incidents – intelligence gathering, recruitment of <i>maquisards</i>, sabotage, rescue of allied pilots are some examples –
across the Eure and in neighbouring areas.
He was eventually co-opted onto the Resistance Steering Committee in
Paris and, working at this level, meant that he was frequently away from Les
Damps.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7EZu4327nblyCEL161QFKtyywfjsrdN0di7QAfE7h53p2lvVingf60lo_-31Zis-ErMLem8GaTTU1SEtta4Mhc8Ww4cmdmZLtUbGb2l0AnwkZKoUIDjFiCXgZTgnmd_LQrnv6_SbFBiVl5jzHHmsa_h20fm110lW1doXRgvwOqaW519VmrqYSEJSgC3g/s335/Pontdel'ArchePlaque02B&W.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="335" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7EZu4327nblyCEL161QFKtyywfjsrdN0di7QAfE7h53p2lvVingf60lo_-31Zis-ErMLem8GaTTU1SEtta4Mhc8Ww4cmdmZLtUbGb2l0AnwkZKoUIDjFiCXgZTgnmd_LQrnv6_SbFBiVl5jzHHmsa_h20fm110lW1doXRgvwOqaW519VmrqYSEJSgC3g/w200-h139/Pontdel'ArchePlaque02B&W.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;">Returning to northwestern France in January
1944, André found himself caught up in a large raid by the occupiers during
which 75 known members of the <i>maquis</i>
were captured. He was seriously injured
by machine gun fire on January 16<sup>th</sup> in Beaumesnil and transported to
the hospital in Rouen. Apparently, he
was interrogated between operations and from the very first day he was arrested. He eventually died of his wounds on February
27<sup>th</sup>.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;">He was posthumously appointed to the rank of
lieutenant-colonel and his body is buried in the small graveyard in Les Damps. The plaque above on the wall – which was
erected on May 8<sup>th</sup>, 1995, the fiftieth anniversary of the end of
hostilities – provides some context rather than the usual blue street sign that
just gives a name. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><i>There will be more from this interesting little town
in the New Year.</i></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>If you enjoyed reading
this post you might also like to take a stroll with me through<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/08/come-stroll-with-me.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Joinville</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>or<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/07/come-stroll-with-me.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">Pontivy</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>or perhaps the little hilltown of<span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span><a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/05/come-stroll-with-me.html" style="color: #2b00fe;" target="_blank">Cordes-sur-Ciel</a></i></b></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><p>
</p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-11342686598641316082023-11-07T06:00:00.070+00:002023-11-07T06:00:00.159+00:00Ridings Centre Christmas Book Fare<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrf5ijARbqlo1CKhdRAvlG4L3i-i5LMcNF0_BXInB_cYGPqgdw_0B3TYttIwL0-08cxfOodpVBdYWc4VDnTMrXQmqmibS_C5WKwdYhC6Y7MDis-ra-6eFLg0_kgf6T9dPiIlEgUh5N9ZOCoBu5I6zIjK-NxR7O3dSnkAkU76zEdzr7wDK8QYA9BfFzrI/s2175/PosterInstaV02.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1991" data-original-width="2175" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrf5ijARbqlo1CKhdRAvlG4L3i-i5LMcNF0_BXInB_cYGPqgdw_0B3TYttIwL0-08cxfOodpVBdYWc4VDnTMrXQmqmibS_C5WKwdYhC6Y7MDis-ra-6eFLg0_kgf6T9dPiIlEgUh5N9ZOCoBu5I6zIjK-NxR7O3dSnkAkU76zEdzr7wDK8QYA9BfFzrI/w400-h366/PosterInstaV02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>... I’m very pleased to be able to tell you that I will be at the Promoting Yorkshire Authors Christmas Book Fair on Saturday, December 2nd…</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Promoting Yorkshire Authors</b> will be running a Book Fair on <b>Saturday, December 2nd</b>. All perfectly timed to enable you to stock up on books for your reading over the Christmas and New Year holidays or as presents for your nearest and dearest!</span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There will be lots of Yorkshire authors there with loads of books. You will be able to browse the stalls and chat with the writers – me included!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There will be a broad spectrum of genres to choose from, including mystery, adventure, cosy crime, historical romance, and plenty more besides. I will have my <b>Jacques Forêt Mysteries</b> with me along with the <b>Miss Moonshine</b> feel-good and heart-warming collections of stories, and the multi-genre <b>Seasonal Paths</b> anthologies, too. There will be plenty to choose from!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Entry to the Book Fair is <b>absolutely free</b>, and you can stay as long as you like between <b>10.00 am and 4.30 pm.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You can find the Book Fair, and plenty of parking, at</div></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 72.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 72pt; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 72.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 72pt; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;">The Ridings Shopping Centre,</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 72.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 72pt; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;">Wakefield</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 72.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 72pt; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>WF1 1DS</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></div><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>It will be really great to see you there ...</span> </span></i></b></p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-62973331970680398722023-10-31T06:00:00.194+00:002023-10-31T06:00:00.142+00:00Come stroll with me ...<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8MWcBdZihZDjOvarbuZVst7uyjxDeIF_fl_6Y2J3IYg0DC7ts6ZlY8btNXP_qqo-AOh7qtVkTlKL8tAlKtKHwvc7niU30Ba0EXkhDq68-KUmA7J79DSFzPa_X0-XHRunehXgVC29LNIyDxgB_zFzu2l0HB-svQN0tp_U8ZzisgMzhxF-gP48DPnm-Vks/s3488/ArgentanMarketPlace.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2991" data-original-width="3488" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8MWcBdZihZDjOvarbuZVst7uyjxDeIF_fl_6Y2J3IYg0DC7ts6ZlY8btNXP_qqo-AOh7qtVkTlKL8tAlKtKHwvc7niU30Ba0EXkhDq68-KUmA7J79DSFzPa_X0-XHRunehXgVC29LNIyDxgB_zFzu2l0HB-svQN0tp_U8ZzisgMzhxF-gP48DPnm-Vks/w400-h343/ArgentanMarketPlace.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><b><i><span style="font-family: arial;">... through the streets of Argentan, a small town in Normandy with a big history. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">You may be surprised by what we find…</span></i></b></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m camped here in Argentan. The campsite is small and very well tended. It is situated in a discreet corner of the grounds that surround the Lace Museum. There is also a <i>plan d’eau</i> which is fed by the river Orne which flows along the western edge of the town. With a population of a little over 13,000, it is the third largest municipality by population in Orne, which is one of the five <i>départements</i> that comprise the region of <i>Normandie</i>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m here to visit places I’ve only previously driven past or through on my way elsewhere. But I’m also here because of some research that I’ve been doing about the history of this region. As is always the case when I’m strolling through France, lunch will be on the hoof and I’ve already found a number of <i>pâtisseries</i> in town. If you’ve read my blog before you’ll know I have a passion for <i>tarte-au-citron</i>, and that’s today’s choice for lunch.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The campsite is a ten-minute walk from the centre of town but I’ve taken the long way around and here I am at <i>La Désirée</i>, a fabulous shop that sits at one side of <i>place du Général Leclerc.</i> With my cake bought it’s a steady meander from here along <i>rue E Panthou</i> into the city centre.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">As we stroll you will see both old and new buildings. But the new significantly outnumber the old. And that’s why I’m here. Like the whole of the northern and western seaboard of France, Argentan was occupied between 1940 and 1944. Back then the town showed the character of its very long history.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There has been habitation in this area since Gallo-Roman times. Those pesky Romans began their incursions between 58 and 51 BC, that’s more than 2,000 years ago. However, Argentan doesn’t warrant any specific mentions in records until about 1025 and from that period on, initially at least, the town thrived. The name Argentan comes from the Gaulish words for ‘silver’ and ‘market’ which was probably one reason for the subsequent prosperity.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But, as has been shown in many past histories fortunes can change, and Argentan’s did quite dramatically. Throughout the Middle Ages, the town was fought over with us Brits occupying the area and being routed several times. But the town survived and gained in religious and traditional industrial importance. During the 1914/18 conflict, it became a garrison town for the French 14th Infantry Brigade.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTS7VM16cIG7uMhZg4Ay6KpZHn6ifHvBRIVjr8NcsbnBuWFKNIxgO01h7J5BUCxosLGAm2gOm9QlZ9NNxzOfqtKGigfa0GbjGjEMfjRYnYvU0upBG7O7yzvdeGkKG49KrpIc1MhbhXPIMtEiIOWcx9__gdRM8N-ls_ZP3B1euLcOfLXZ-QJNINgqZVZT8/s2708/ArgentanDestroyedChurch.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2167" data-original-width="2708" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTS7VM16cIG7uMhZg4Ay6KpZHn6ifHvBRIVjr8NcsbnBuWFKNIxgO01h7J5BUCxosLGAm2gOm9QlZ9NNxzOfqtKGigfa0GbjGjEMfjRYnYvU0upBG7O7yzvdeGkKG49KrpIc1MhbhXPIMtEiIOWcx9__gdRM8N-ls_ZP3B1euLcOfLXZ-QJNINgqZVZT8/w400-h320/ArgentanDestroyedChurch.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>In 1940 the town was occupied until the D-Day landings in June 1944. It was during the battle for Normandy and the Argentan-Falaise pocket that this place suffered the most. If you take a right off <i>place Henri 4</i> – please note the stunning medieval portico that is now the frame for a shoeshop on your right – you will come onto <i>rue E. Denis</i> which takes you into the market place which is dominated by the stunning <i>Église St. Germain</i>. And that’s where I’m taking you next.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In here, away from the general bustle of the streets, you have a vast haven of peace exerting its dominance over the town and the many past centuries or so it seems. But take a look at the photos displayed on a wall at the back. They show the absolute destruction of the town that took place between June and August 1944. There are information sheets, too. As I stand here reading the details and looking at the photos I can't take in the extent of the devastation and destruction. The town was practically flattened. It took 40 years for the town to recover and for the church to be rebuilt to reflect its original gothic splendour.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>Little did I realise, when I wrote these notes in my travel journal, that I would be seeing the same level of devastation happening again in another part of the world.</i></b></div></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-29140229421651873232023-10-24T06:00:00.150+01:002023-10-24T06:00:00.143+01:00I'm reviewing Someone's Always Watching ...<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifiS_JOjVK_9ii9on-NKew3SJ_m_ebOvhOhfBiRjrYvowjHRRqwJxDU8IAV3YSAmQCKO_FrTC6NcnOe0vzVRSiQAmxuvUv5FtEzgvJu9w1RKX-Egy818mJqXfWzjtoCFzJxtmIcXvHhE_NpjDyFpI33DSW8L7v-90Ii2cpYbPkCH-Z5BhOg-mLDCRW8vU/s2250/BookCover.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="1410" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifiS_JOjVK_9ii9on-NKew3SJ_m_ebOvhOhfBiRjrYvowjHRRqwJxDU8IAV3YSAmQCKO_FrTC6NcnOe0vzVRSiQAmxuvUv5FtEzgvJu9w1RKX-Egy818mJqXfWzjtoCFzJxtmIcXvHhE_NpjDyFpI33DSW8L7v-90Ii2cpYbPkCH-Z5BhOg-mLDCRW8vU/w251-h400/BookCover.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>... by JR Lancaster. Read on ...</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Author J R Lancaster visited the blog on July 4th, and she supplied an exclusive excerpt from her novel, <b><i>Someone's Always Watching</i></b>. You can read that post <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/07/please-welcome-friend-and-author-jr.html"><b><i>Here</i></b></a>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Having read the extract, I was intrigued and couldn't wait to start reading the whole book for myself. What a great story it is, too.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Set in a small English village somewhere towards the south coast and Brighton, it has everything it needs to fit into the Cosy Crime genre. The author prefers to think of her book as a classic mystery and this story also lives up to that description, too. But, give it a try and make up your own mind.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The central character, Basil, has some personal issues which he is trying to cope with, and one solution is to remain indoors as much as possible. He has been a recluse for around ten years at the opening of the story. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But the death of Basil's next-door neighbour comes as a great shock, and it is sufficient to galvanise Basil into some action. When Dowden Thornhill, the detective in charge of the case, turns up on Basil's doorstep, it becomes even more important for Basil to rejoin society. There are some striking similarities between the death of Basil's neighbour and that of his mother some ten years previously.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">An unusual alliance is formed between Thornhill, Basil and an old school friend, Poppy, that carries the rest of the action forward and the investigation to a satisfying conclusion.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I found the narrative flowed well, and the characters were well-drawn, if a little eccentric at times! The story has pace and humour, and the twists and turns in the plot kept me guessing. If you like a classic murder mystery, I would not hesitate to recommend this story to you. I shall keep a look out for the next in the series because it seems quite clear to me that Basil and Thornhill will be back!</div></span>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-25844233789170547732023-10-17T06:00:00.194+01:002023-10-19T16:11:44.172+01:00I hope you will be able to join me... <div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_FzuLKQDO-u3_ifspP6eSZ2SzHPhyphenhyphen2jN1FQXPb5V4h8XrJcgomG8BKcr7lvHG8Bl91DZj7SNQrT4gtrTwRcSNwXgBkxkPpwcoiIswuPMFhVr_Fq1aCCvG_xtzOXIworpaQPff0itjFRx5d3uQSGDbbW7AhE_0lRF_-jDzmcZkkyNlnQS79NfqqRjRO4/s940/PosterNaNoWriMo02.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_FzuLKQDO-u3_ifspP6eSZ2SzHPhyphenhyphen2jN1FQXPb5V4h8XrJcgomG8BKcr7lvHG8Bl91DZj7SNQrT4gtrTwRcSNwXgBkxkPpwcoiIswuPMFhVr_Fq1aCCvG_xtzOXIworpaQPff0itjFRx5d3uQSGDbbW7AhE_0lRF_-jDzmcZkkyNlnQS79NfqqRjRO4/w400-h335/PosterNaNoWriMo02.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>... at Harrogate Library on November 3rd. Read on ...</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;"><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-family: arial;">Promoting Yorkshire Authors</b><span style="font-family: arial;">, an organisation that was set up to do exactly what it says in the name, runs regular events each month at </span><b style="font-family: arial;">Harrogate Library, Victoria Avenue, Harrogate HG1 1EG.</b></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">November is, of course, the month for writing books. November is well-known in writing circles as National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for short). That's because there is a challenge, for any writer who wishes to take it up, to get 50,000 words of a novel written in 30 days. And that is no mean feat!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On November 3rd, I will be talking about NaNoWriMo, the pitfalls, the difficulties, and my tips for making the challenge easier and achievable - because it is doable. My fellow writer Sue Williams will be there too. We will be talking about writing, character, and the whole process of getting from the first word to 'The End'. I'm sure there will be time for questions from the floor as well. I will also have a small selection of books with me, which will be for sale.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The event will be held in <b>the cafe on the ground floor</b> of the library and will start at <b>1.30 pm</b>. Entrance to the event is absolutely free. You can book your <b>free place</b> by telephoning the library on <b>01609 536658</b>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I hope you will be able to make it. When you get to the library, grab yourself a cup of coffee or tea, make yourself comfortable, and join us on <b>November 3rd at 1.30 p.m</b>. It will be great to see you there.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>If you are a writer or an aspiring writer with a connection to Yorkshire and would like to join PYA please check out our website <a href="http://www.p-y-a.org/">Here</a></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>You can also follow PYA on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/pyaopen">Facebook</a> on the <a href="https://booksandbeveragesuk.wordpress.com/">Books&BevsBlog</a> or subscribe to our <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwvgdKFqUji1YFvlR9dOmBw?view_as=subscriber">YouTubeChannel</a></i></b></div></span>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-70735157621905416502023-10-10T06:00:00.146+01:002024-01-22T14:34:51.209+00:00I'm Off My Beaten Track in Abu Simbel ...<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><b style="letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kIgpbq1IghovnNx1lbhR4cWe6rdm8WRZohMNB8NvcY6nM8NaLt8YOjoEULL07ART7ul8Ge67ts7XC-TXHRgwRAc-shnEkDTWKh4qvGPMUD9IlYzLrK2xxEN0mzHQKRB-O4cUxclaSML6Y1V96Dz8RwNSkkyskRz4ei5AM7jK5IE524HVsQ3lIbN7gno/s2969/TempleRamesesII02.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2288" data-original-width="2969" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kIgpbq1IghovnNx1lbhR4cWe6rdm8WRZohMNB8NvcY6nM8NaLt8YOjoEULL07ART7ul8Ge67ts7XC-TXHRgwRAc-shnEkDTWKh4qvGPMUD9IlYzLrK2xxEN0mzHQKRB-O4cUxclaSML6Y1V96Dz8RwNSkkyskRz4ei5AM7jK5IE524HVsQ3lIbN7gno/w400-h309/TempleRamesesII02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></i></b></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: 700; letter-spacing: -0.2px;">... in one of the most famous temples in Egypt for my post from my journal today. I've taken as my title from something one of my fellow travellers said. Read on ...</span></div></span><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.2px;"><b>YABTOT</b></span></span></div><div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: -0.15pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm at the temple of the 19th Dynasty Pharaoh Rameses II. His name in ancient Egyptian is Ra Mes Es which means Ra, his son, is here. Rameses was seen as the living embodiment of the sun god Ra. He is reputed to have reigned for 67 years, had a considerable number of wives and fathered an almost endless number of children. Again only part of the temple is left, but the reliefs around the exterior walls depict the Ancients in battle. They used mercenaries and, contrary to popular belief, they did not take slaves. The walls depicted Sardinian and African brigades, all in the pay of the Pharaoh. On the interior walls were further scenes of battle. In one small room, where it had obviously been too dark for the artist to see properly there were mistakes: fudged outlines and drips of paint that had not been cleaned off. Had it been too dark for him to see? Perhaps, because of the constant work in darkness or maybe, his eyesight had been failing? I guess I'll never know the answer.</span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Eventually, I emerged into the square in front of the temple and promptly sat down. I was thirsty and ordered a coke from one of the many people who were always buzzing around with cool boxes of water or soft drinks for tourists to buy. There were no glasses on offer, of course, so no-one would be offended by my drinking out of the bottle. Refreshed, I was joined by Captain B and his wife on my narrow perch.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"So much to see," said Captain B. "And it will be the same tomorrow," he said accepting two cokes from the seller. "YABTOT!" He said clinking his bottle with the one he'd just given to his wife.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Excuse me?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"YABTOT," he said. "Yet Another Bloody Tomb Or Temple." He stood up, and then they walked over to where their Taxi driver was waiting. I had to wait for my fellow travellers to arrive, which they did about ten minutes later. We found our taxi driver and headed back to the boat.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">On this trip we were taken passed the local brick manufacturers. It was nothing more than the front garden of two adjoining houses. There was a substantial pile of silt from the river to which the women and children were adding water carried in ewers. The young boys were treading the water into the silt, and two men were scraping the resulting morass into wooden moulds, tapping them down and then tipping out the fresh bricks onto a large table to dry in the sun. Work stopped as our driver slowed down so that we could see the work in progress. Instead, we were greeted by waving grimy hands as grimy faces smiled and shouted a 'hello'.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>There might just be room for one more post from my Egyptian journal before I close the blog for the holidays in December. In the meantime, if you enjoyed this post you might also enjoy my earlier posts about <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/06/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-cairo.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Cairo</a> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/07/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-giza.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Giza</a> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/08/im-off-my-beaten-track-solar-sailing.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Solar Sailing</a> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/02/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-tell-el-amarna.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Tell-el-Amarna</a> <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2023/04/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-assiut.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Assiut</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>and <a href="https://jamesetmoi.blogspot.com/2022/09/im-off-my-beaten-track-in-egypt.html" style="color: #2b00fe;">Egypt</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> </span>generally - just click the links.</i></b></div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></div></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-25111437802387900882023-10-03T06:00:00.004+01:002024-02-25T11:49:46.303+00:00Come and join me ...<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIO5yfie6ARLnUDZv17MlwZpI-39YU1x2-CuwjcIg26FhwPlIC55vuKiTakv80HI5j4vkTR-Va5KyphE-_hHXB-IQfo1-sxowYi55xQUZpslyyDJ7cOYjjXMOMbNUJGWeFCEABmx6gPr4potQqYjZSjwuA-EhV6STMy_lMevkom4r_GYgaMKgvAeJUwjc/s2085/PosterInsta02.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2054" data-original-width="2085" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIO5yfie6ARLnUDZv17MlwZpI-39YU1x2-CuwjcIg26FhwPlIC55vuKiTakv80HI5j4vkTR-Va5KyphE-_hHXB-IQfo1-sxowYi55xQUZpslyyDJ7cOYjjXMOMbNUJGWeFCEABmx6gPr4potQqYjZSjwuA-EhV6STMy_lMevkom4r_GYgaMKgvAeJUwjc/w400-h394/PosterInsta02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span> </span><b><i>... at the Autumn Book Fair in York. Read on for more details ...<br /></i></b></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">On November 18th, there will be a Local Writers' Book Fair in York.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The venue is Clements Hall Community Centre in Nunthorpe, York (YO23 1BW). This is situated about a 15 to 20 walk from the central rail station in the city. And, as it's November, the timing is perfect for a little Christmas shopping.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span>There will be lots of other authors there too. I will have my </span><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="text-align: left;"><b>Jacques
Forêt Mystery </b>stories with me which I'm happy to sign if required. All six of these books are set in south-central France, with each book featuring a particular cosy crime for readers to solve along with Jacques and his business partner, Didier Duclos.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">I will also be bringing all three of the fabulous <b>Miss Moonshine </b>anthologies. For me, it's great to have the opportunity to write something other than crime for a change. So, if your taste is for romantic, heart-warming stories, then these collections - created by a group of nine northern writers - are just what you need! As it says on the cover of one of the books, once you've met Miss Moonshine, 'life may never be the same again.' One of these could be the perfect present for that great aunt that is always so difficult to buy for.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Finally, I will have the <b>Seasonal Paths</b> collections on my table, too - I'm back to crime for my stories in these books!. These three collections of multi-genre stories - <b>Authumn Paths</b>, <b>Winter Paths</b>, and <b>Spring Paths</b> - are put together by a collaboration of nine writers that stretch across the Atlantic Ocean. I will be able to introduce you to some new writers that perhaps you may not have come across before. At the time of creating this post, I still do not have a publication date for the third in this series, but I'm fairly confident that, by the day of the fair, I will have supplies of all three.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><b><i>So, please do come along to the fair, which opens at 9.30am. It will be great to see you there if you can make it ...</i></b></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-16374772243177056952023-09-26T06:00:00.151+01:002023-10-18T10:00:21.560+01:00Spring Paths ...<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJtYz7epbLltawEEMkQJaEfuz9pI_Hdieep7UaLfWcL5_cnUiMXd1pxjWouyEGlFESySlCZV6JnwBy3pU1s7G3TdtP7a9Q1xH-4tNn8ahRjYy8uAb4Rgq_19yttLRffzm9fAHH0mKvzJ6Z4mrDiPoJotS0txkTM-bbXr-53-Wz8aNBK-CkKw9zDDnagE/s1686/AllWritersV03Aug2023.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1686" data-original-width="1622" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCJtYz7epbLltawEEMkQJaEfuz9pI_Hdieep7UaLfWcL5_cnUiMXd1pxjWouyEGlFESySlCZV6JnwBy3pU1s7G3TdtP7a9Q1xH-4tNn8ahRjYy8uAb4Rgq_19yttLRffzm9fAHH0mKvzJ6Z4mrDiPoJotS0txkTM-bbXr-53-Wz8aNBK-CkKw9zDDnagE/w385-h400/AllWritersV03Aug2023.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i>... the third in the series of multi-genre anthologies is almost here. The first two books, Autumn Paths and Winter Paths, are still available to purchase. Read on for more details about Spring Paths ...</i></b></div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I and my colleagues on the other side of the pond have finally completed the next set of stories for you to read. The theme for this collection is spring, and, as in the other books, we have all got a very different take on what that might mean.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In my last post, I mentioned that we had some new faces this time around, so here is our new photo montage. Eden Monroe - top left corner - provided the introductory words to Winter Paths. For this book, she is joining us as a writer in place of Monique Th</span><span face="Arial, "sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">é</span><span style="font-family: arial;">beau. Monique has other priorities, and I have particularly missed her input on this book. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">In the bottom right corner, we have Gianetta Murray in place of Jeremy Thomas Gilmour. Gianetta is an American from California who lives here in the UK. Yay! I'm no longer alone on this side of the sea! She also writes cosy mysteries and is working to get her first book published. Meanwhile, Jeremy is busy working on a new book.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My story in this collection involves a mystery, of course. Although it's not quite what it seems at the outset. But my characters, Alice Tomlinson and her dad, Peter, from the first collection of stories, are back. And it's Alice who is joining all the dots and making all the discoveries to lead you to the resolution of the puzzle. But, there is a secret that even Alice knows nothing about. My story will take you back to Beauregard in central France, along with some old and some new faces in the sleepy little village. And keep watching this space, the release date for the new book is coming very soon.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSw_ofKXU4qModzEWiW5pn6uQPoJw3HN6eDD2Lmtv88yFlZ6p9d6xDBJBbynFKDwfNcxWSBtiNaX-Ea629O3fCd4lDJzuo12c9WG_DbYrfqAQoVF5o2oiWVRnRWHRk15cz4rpf5vFkHOQ4Nu-5FPsKIdAMxYcpMC_GXIO5VkjAVyFFqJrG0D4popxF7ak/s2560/CoverArt.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1601" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSw_ofKXU4qModzEWiW5pn6uQPoJw3HN6eDD2Lmtv88yFlZ6p9d6xDBJBbynFKDwfNcxWSBtiNaX-Ea629O3fCd4lDJzuo12c9WG_DbYrfqAQoVF5o2oiWVRnRWHRk15cz4rpf5vFkHOQ4Nu-5FPsKIdAMxYcpMC_GXIO5VkjAVyFFqJrG0D4popxF7ak/s320/CoverArt.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />about the book ...</i></b> </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sometimes, a compelling short story is all you need.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Let our tales of gods, ghosts, alien worlds, mystery,
secrecy, love, loss, and horror get under your skin for a while.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Nine North Atlantic writers have collaborated to create this
anthology, the third in a series of multi-genre fables that will entertain,
possibly unsettle, and cause you to think about the present in which we live.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Curl up on the sofa and allow yourself to be lost in the
pages of this fascinating book.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><i><span style="font-family: arial;">If you haven't read the first two anthologies yet, you can get each one here <a href="https://viewbook.at/AutumnPaths" target="_blank">AutumnPaths</a> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">and here</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><a href="https://mybook.to/WinterPaths" style="font-family: arial;">WinterPaths</a></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i>The print version of Spring Paths is now available <a href="https://mybook.to/SpringPaths" target="_blank">Here</a> and the E-copy will follow very soon.</i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-925564534667630087.post-86796902613105059822023-09-19T06:00:00.054+01:002023-09-19T06:00:00.140+01:00Come and join me...<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5DqnxH1CgVlIkzwjMZ_otpzZtsCphWFSB2QXa3Oj4kJe9ZC4onUiDJB3PBXdVkAaa6OSpVgO1hfrko2mYQL8-Oi2Yp6ltb7LchlCoW69lDEW9Ur2EnkEUaxVGNRDSaB6KoIn5DPhKq-HrYBpF5coFTgH75K3aY7TLEOYMu-7P9FLTM4hQzCeaaKg-ky8/s2557/SummerChurch.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2345" data-original-width="2557" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5DqnxH1CgVlIkzwjMZ_otpzZtsCphWFSB2QXa3Oj4kJe9ZC4onUiDJB3PBXdVkAaa6OSpVgO1hfrko2mYQL8-Oi2Yp6ltb7LchlCoW69lDEW9Ur2EnkEUaxVGNRDSaB6KoIn5DPhKq-HrYBpF5coFTgH75K3aY7TLEOYMu-7P9FLTM4hQzCeaaKg-ky8/w400-h366/SummerChurch.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> ... at the Craft Fair in the beautiful North Yorkshire village of Kirk Smeaton (WF8 3LB) on October 14th...<br /><br /></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">This super event will run from 11.00 a.m. until 3.00 p.m. and is being held in Saint Peter's church. It may be a small building, but it dates from the 12th century and has an interesting history.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There will be all sorts of stalls. Come and explore the stunning bags and scarves that have been created, or take a look at the table with various knitted goods. There will be racks of vintage clothing for you to browse, too.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Perhaps you are looking for some early Christmas presents or decorations for the house, in which case check out the stall selling candles. The local florist will also be there with arrangements and wreaths, and you can stock up on jams and chutneys, too.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I will also be there with my books, and perhaps something to read might be the answer to that nagging question about what to get Aunty So-and-so for Christmas this year.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In addition, there will be refreshments available throughout the day, and you can try your luck in the raffle.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I can guarantee you a lovely day out in stunning, historic surroundings. So please drop by and say hello. Entry to the fair is absolutely free.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">October 14th, St Peter's Church, Main Street, Kirk Smeaton, WF8 3LB</span></i></b></span></div><p><b style="font-family: arial; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Entry to the Fair is FREE</span></i></b> </p>Angela Wrenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13506331779330462606noreply@blogger.com2