I had called to see my old pal, Mr Sherlock Holmes and to update my website, http://mymatessmarterthanme.com when I found him obviously contemplating a spot of decorating.
“Good Heavens, Holmes!” I cried as I saw the book in his hand. “Are you going for Holmes improvements?” I chortled merrily at my witticism, but Holmes remained unmoved, without a flicker of hilarity crossing his well-chiselled features.
I really do think Holmes should see an audiologist. Despite my frequent forays into humour, Holmes rarely smiles. It was when I saw him with custard in one ear and a sponge finger in the other I thought he was a trifle deaf.
“Good Heavens, Holmes!” I cried. “We’ll have to get brushes and paints and ladders and so on before we embark upon such a course,” I continued. “We need an honest artisan, a tradesfellow, a cheery Cockney working-class comic relief, to say, “Cor blimey, guv’nor,” and other typical phrases. Tell me, Holmes, is there a B and Q in London?”
“By no means, Watson, my ill-lettered friend,” he replied. “There’s a L and an O and a N and a...”
The trouble is with Holmes is that he makes jokes as lame as Igor and expects me to laugh.
“I don’t think much of your choice of colours,” I said, cutting him off in his prime. “Good Heavens, Holmes!” I cried. “Fifty shades of grey? How depressing!”
“What would you prefer, Watson?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about doing the Study in Scarlet?”
At this point we were interrupted by our honest and worthy landlady, Mrs Hudson.
She was in a great to-do, wailing and wringing her hands in her apron. No matter how many times I’ve told her to use the mangle for hand-wringing, she refuses to follow my advice.
“Mr Holmes! Mr Holmes!” she reiterated.
If I’ve told that woman once, I’ve told her a dozen times, I can give her a good tonic for that, but she insists on reiterating all over the hearth rug.
“It’s the peas, sir,” she said reiterating madly. “I had some nice green peas in the colander, all ready to wash for dinner, and they all jumped out of the dish and are now all over the kitchen yard, covered in mud. What shall I do, sir?”
“I’m afraid, my good woman, there is nothing to be done,” said Holmes, drawing his brows together. Holmes frequently enlivens these little chats of ours with artwork. “It’s the time of year, I’m afraid.”
Mrs Hudson and I looked at each other with Wild Surmise. (Wild Surmise and here sister, Tame, are the new parlour maids.) “The season, sir?” she wavered? “I don’t understand.”
“Christmas, Mrs Hudson,” he replied brusquely, putting down his pencils and picking up a ball of wool. I knew what that meant. He was going to knit his brows together now. “Where would you expect to find peas at Christmas, eh?”
“In Tesco’s?” I suggested.
“Nonsense, man! The answer is on the ground, yes? Don’t you see? Christmas means Peas on Earth.”
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
Booklist and the Lottery
Turn the telly on Saturday night for the lottery programme, everyone – my incredibly sporty daughter Jessica and me are on it, playing netball with Sir Chris Hoy. Gosh.
On another note, Booklist has given the thumbs–up to Frankie’s Letter. This is what they said:
Frankie's Letter, Gordon-Smith, Dolores (Author), Jan 2013. 224 p. Severn, hardcover, $28.95. (9780727882172).
It’s the height of WWI, and Dr. Anthony Brooke has abandoned his medical career to become a spy for England. His latest mission in Germany is compromised when wounded fellow spy Terence Cavanaugh staggers into Anthony’s hotel room and dies at Anthony’s feet. His last mumbled words are, “English gentleman spy,” “star anger,” and “Frankie’s letter.” Completely mystified but with the German army hot on his trail, Anthony flees to England, where he is charged with figuring out what is behind Cavanaugh’s final, puzzling message. The trail leads to the country estate of publishing magnate Patrick Sherston, where Anthony finds himself embroiled in a terrifying game of subterfuge. Packed with adventure, action, and unforeseen twists, Gordon-Smith’s latest will appeal to Ken Follett fans.
Ken Follett, eh? That’s not bad.
Aa a matter of fact, though, the main message poor old Terence Cavanaugh mumbles is “Frankie’s letter. Read Frankie’s letter...” And, with Christmas round the corner, if you’re looking for a pressie, you could take it as a hint...!
On another note, Booklist has given the thumbs–up to Frankie’s Letter. This is what they said:
Frankie's Letter, Gordon-Smith, Dolores (Author), Jan 2013. 224 p. Severn, hardcover, $28.95. (9780727882172).
It’s the height of WWI, and Dr. Anthony Brooke has abandoned his medical career to become a spy for England. His latest mission in Germany is compromised when wounded fellow spy Terence Cavanaugh staggers into Anthony’s hotel room and dies at Anthony’s feet. His last mumbled words are, “English gentleman spy,” “star anger,” and “Frankie’s letter.” Completely mystified but with the German army hot on his trail, Anthony flees to England, where he is charged with figuring out what is behind Cavanaugh’s final, puzzling message. The trail leads to the country estate of publishing magnate Patrick Sherston, where Anthony finds himself embroiled in a terrifying game of subterfuge. Packed with adventure, action, and unforeseen twists, Gordon-Smith’s latest will appeal to Ken Follett fans.
Ken Follett, eh? That’s not bad.
Aa a matter of fact, though, the main message poor old Terence Cavanaugh mumbles is “Frankie’s letter. Read Frankie’s letter...” And, with Christmas round the corner, if you’re looking for a pressie, you could take it as a hint...!
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Mystery Makers
Do you belong to a Writers’ Group or a bookclub in the north of England? If so, I’d like to direct you to
http://www.mysterymakers.co.uk/
As you can see, Jane Finnis, Rebecca Jenkins and me have set up a sort of Authors’ R Us. We all write historical mysteries and all love talking about history, research and writing. If you’d like us to come and talk to your group, get in touch.
Mystery Makers was officially launched in York on the 22nd. Waterstones had very generously opened the shop after hours for Jane to celebrate the re-release of her first book, Shadows in the Night, (previously entitled Get Out or Die!) with a new cover from Head of Zeus, the UK partners of the American Poisoned Pen. Not only was Jane there on good form, she’d also brought with her two Roman soldiers. Like, doesn’t everyone travel with a couple of Roman soldiers? This wasn’t an audience that was going to heckle!
So, if you fancy having the three of us pop up at a group near you, I can’t promise Roman soldiers, but I can promise a really interesting session!
http://www.mysterymakers.co.uk/
As you can see, Jane Finnis, Rebecca Jenkins and me have set up a sort of Authors’ R Us. We all write historical mysteries and all love talking about history, research and writing. If you’d like us to come and talk to your group, get in touch.
Mystery Makers was officially launched in York on the 22nd. Waterstones had very generously opened the shop after hours for Jane to celebrate the re-release of her first book, Shadows in the Night, (previously entitled Get Out or Die!) with a new cover from Head of Zeus, the UK partners of the American Poisoned Pen. Not only was Jane there on good form, she’d also brought with her two Roman soldiers. Like, doesn’t everyone travel with a couple of Roman soldiers? This wasn’t an audience that was going to heckle!
So, if you fancy having the three of us pop up at a group near you, I can’t promise Roman soldiers, but I can promise a really interesting session!
Monday, November 19, 2012
Chris Hoy, netball... and me
This is about the most bizarre opening sentence I’ll ever type.
Last Wednesday I played netball with Sir Chris Hoy. Yes, that Chris Hoy, the track cyclist, the eleven-time world champion, six-time Olympic champion and a winner of a total of seven Olympic Games medals, six gold and one silver. That’s three gold medals in Bejing and two gold medals in London 2012.
Wow.
Now I am not a sporting legend. I know, I know, but you can’t do everything. So what on earth was I doing playing netball with Chris Hoy? And what, for the uninitiated, is netball anyway?
Netball, for those who don’t know, is rather like basketball, but perhaps even more fun. It’s mainly, but not exclusively, played by girls and, although it’s hugely popular in schools, suffers a bit from not being an Olympic sport. And, about four years ago, Back To Netball was set up to offer netball sessions to everyone, sporty and non-sporty alike.
Jessica, my incredibly sporty daughter, bullied me into going on the grounds that a) It was in the sports centre up the road b) I didn’t have to sign up to X number of sessions and b)I’d enjoy it when I got there. And, of course, she was right. If you put Back To Netball into Google you’ll probably find a session near you.
Anyway, the Back To Netball bods applied for Lottery funding. Sheonah, the coach, asked us all a favour last Monday night. Could we possibly come along on Wednesday morning as the BBC were filming the session and she wanted enough bodies to make it look good. OK. Jessica took the day off work and I forsook Literature for a while.
And we went and we played and the producer asked us to smile and talk and keep on talking – and then Sir Chris Hoy walked into the room with two gold medals from London 2012 round his neck. Shine a light. He’s gorjus!!! We’d won the lottery funding and it’ll be broadcast on the BBC lottery programme on the 8th of December. He stayed for two hours (gasp) and played netball (double gasp). Jessica got to partner him and I was his opposite number. Sir Chris posted this picture on his Twitter feed, asking for captions. As you see, he was getting to grips with the game and I.... Well, I was just getting to grips!
Last Wednesday I played netball with Sir Chris Hoy. Yes, that Chris Hoy, the track cyclist, the eleven-time world champion, six-time Olympic champion and a winner of a total of seven Olympic Games medals, six gold and one silver. That’s three gold medals in Bejing and two gold medals in London 2012.
Wow.
Now I am not a sporting legend. I know, I know, but you can’t do everything. So what on earth was I doing playing netball with Chris Hoy? And what, for the uninitiated, is netball anyway?
Netball, for those who don’t know, is rather like basketball, but perhaps even more fun. It’s mainly, but not exclusively, played by girls and, although it’s hugely popular in schools, suffers a bit from not being an Olympic sport. And, about four years ago, Back To Netball was set up to offer netball sessions to everyone, sporty and non-sporty alike.
Jessica, my incredibly sporty daughter, bullied me into going on the grounds that a) It was in the sports centre up the road b) I didn’t have to sign up to X number of sessions and b)I’d enjoy it when I got there. And, of course, she was right. If you put Back To Netball into Google you’ll probably find a session near you.
Anyway, the Back To Netball bods applied for Lottery funding. Sheonah, the coach, asked us all a favour last Monday night. Could we possibly come along on Wednesday morning as the BBC were filming the session and she wanted enough bodies to make it look good. OK. Jessica took the day off work and I forsook Literature for a while.
And we went and we played and the producer asked us to smile and talk and keep on talking – and then Sir Chris Hoy walked into the room with two gold medals from London 2012 round his neck. Shine a light. He’s gorjus!!! We’d won the lottery funding and it’ll be broadcast on the BBC lottery programme on the 8th of December. He stayed for two hours (gasp) and played netball (double gasp). Jessica got to partner him and I was his opposite number. Sir Chris posted this picture on his Twitter feed, asking for captions. As you see, he was getting to grips with the game and I.... Well, I was just getting to grips!
Sunday, October 21, 2012
George Formby and an audience with the Pope
I was having a George Formby session on my ipod this morning while getting the Sunday lunch ready, which meant I was peeling potatoes and wiping tears of laughter from my eyes at the same time. NB; don’t confuse which hand is holding the tissue and which the potato peeler. That is painful.
I love George. I remember reading an article by Clive James he wrote years ago on the strength of a TV documentary about Wigan’s favourite son. Clive James noted (with more than a hint of wistfulness) that after years living in Britain, he never felt more Australian and un-British than when he listened to George Formby. Clive, who isn’t exactly short of a sense of humour, just couldn’t get it. When George was at the height of his fame, everyone, from the King to the cleaners with coal miners, clerks, clerics and cashiers in between (I could go on listing jobs that start with K or C but you get the point) loved him, but not Clive. Not a titter. Perhaps the ability to riff off a few bars of When I’m Cleaning Windows could become part of the Britishness test (a profoundly unBritish sort of idea) that Ye Gov talk about.
My favourite George Formby songs are, as you might have guessed, the funny ones. Here’s some of the lyrics from Hi-tiddly-hi-ti Island.
In Hi-tiddly-hi-ti Island, everybody wears a smile; Hi-tiddly-hi-ti Island, everybody lives in style The girls out there are full of sport, and wear their frocks a trifle short, Some are simply wrapped in thought In Hi-Tiddly-Hi-Ti Isle.
I love George. I remember reading an article by Clive James he wrote years ago on the strength of a TV documentary about Wigan’s favourite son. Clive James noted (with more than a hint of wistfulness) that after years living in Britain, he never felt more Australian and un-British than when he listened to George Formby. Clive, who isn’t exactly short of a sense of humour, just couldn’t get it. When George was at the height of his fame, everyone, from the King to the cleaners with coal miners, clerks, clerics and cashiers in between (I could go on listing jobs that start with K or C but you get the point) loved him, but not Clive. Not a titter. Perhaps the ability to riff off a few bars of When I’m Cleaning Windows could become part of the Britishness test (a profoundly unBritish sort of idea) that Ye Gov talk about.
My favourite George Formby songs are, as you might have guessed, the funny ones. Here’s some of the lyrics from Hi-tiddly-hi-ti Island.
In Hi-tiddly-hi-ti Island, everybody wears a smile; Hi-tiddly-hi-ti Island, everybody lives in style The girls out there are full of sport, and wear their frocks a trifle short, Some are simply wrapped in thought In Hi-Tiddly-Hi-Ti Isle.
Yeah, OK. Maybe you have to have the music and the voice to go with it, but it makes me laugh.
It was one of George’s sincere songs though, that made me have A Thought. It’s I’m Leaning On A Lamp-post. Here’s the link to the You Tube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3e53eJBwiKw
Because, you see, Lucy, home from Uni for the weekend, wandered into the kitchen to see what I was laughing about. Lucy (bless her) is deeply tolerant of my ipod habits and well versed in G. Formby’s output, but she does listen to more up to date music, too. Lucy loves Elbow, for instance. She listens to my songs and I listen to her’s. Fair enough. One of Elbow’s songs which I love is An Audience With The Pope as in
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S4d7oMxsBMI
And – wait for it – here comes The Thought.
The theme of An Audience With The Pope and I’m Leaning On A Lamp-post are exactly the same. Wow. And that bears out the truism, so well known to anyone who’s ever taken a stab at a creative writing class, that there aren’t any new ideas, just new ways of telling the story.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Frankie's Letter
I Spy....
The big news of the week is that Frankie’s Letter is published! It’s available from Amazon, from me (have a look at the Books page on the website) and, as they say, all good bookshops. If the bookshop you’re in hasn’t got it, then you have my absolute approval to query if the aforesaid bookshop is as good as purports to be. Unless, of course, it’s one of those specialist bookshops selling books only about Neuroscience, Horses, How To Grow Grass That Your Neighbours Will Envy, Tiddlywinks or whatever.
Frankie’s Letter isn’t a Jack story but a spy thriller set in the First World War. I originally self-published it on Kindle, but was delighted when Severn House decided to buy it. The cover, I think, look great, and there’s something about holding a “real” book that the Kindle, despite its many virtues, just can’t match.
One of the challenges of writing a spy story set in the First World War is conveying to the reader just how new (and amateur) the Secret Service was. We’re used to James Bond and his gadgets and Smiley’s smoke-filled rooms, but this is a different era, an era where an individual not only made a huge difference to the Service but actually was the Service.
I thought the best way to explain the time and the atmosphere of the story was to write an introduction. Here it is. I hope you enjoy it and I really hope you enjoy Frankie’s Letter
Frankie’s Letter is, of course, fiction, but one of its chief characters, Sir Charles Talbot, is based upon a real person.
William Melville, the man who would become the Secret Service’s “M”, was an Irishman, born in poverty in County Kerry in 1850. He ran away from home and in 1872 joined the London police. He made a name for himself as a quick-witted and capable officer, who, among other things, arrested Fenians and anarchists, was involved in the search for Jack The Ripper and was appointed as the Royal bodyguard. He retired, at the peak of his career, in 1903, with the rank of superintendent.
The retirement was fictional; what Melville actually did was to set up a small office near Scotland Yard under the name and title of W. Morgan, General Agent. As W. Morgan, he looked after both espionage and counter-espionage. His job was entirely hands-on. That not only suited Melville’s character, it was necessary. As he had agents but no staff, he had little choice.
In 1909, the service expanded, taking on Captain Vernon Kell, of the South Staffordshire Regiment and the flamboyant, sword-stick wielding ex-Naval officer, Mansfield Smith-Cunningham (“C”) to run various sections of the infant service. All three men, in their separate offices strung out along the Thames, were unofficially supported and officially unacknowledged by the government – a state of affairs which suited the modest William Melville very well indeed.
If anyone is interested in finding out more about this fascinating man, I can recommend Andrew Cook’s M: M15’s First Spymaster as a reliable and thoroughly absorbing account.
The big news of the week is that Frankie’s Letter is published! It’s available from Amazon, from me (have a look at the Books page on the website) and, as they say, all good bookshops. If the bookshop you’re in hasn’t got it, then you have my absolute approval to query if the aforesaid bookshop is as good as purports to be. Unless, of course, it’s one of those specialist bookshops selling books only about Neuroscience, Horses, How To Grow Grass That Your Neighbours Will Envy, Tiddlywinks or whatever.
Frankie’s Letter isn’t a Jack story but a spy thriller set in the First World War. I originally self-published it on Kindle, but was delighted when Severn House decided to buy it. The cover, I think, look great, and there’s something about holding a “real” book that the Kindle, despite its many virtues, just can’t match.
One of the challenges of writing a spy story set in the First World War is conveying to the reader just how new (and amateur) the Secret Service was. We’re used to James Bond and his gadgets and Smiley’s smoke-filled rooms, but this is a different era, an era where an individual not only made a huge difference to the Service but actually was the Service.
I thought the best way to explain the time and the atmosphere of the story was to write an introduction. Here it is. I hope you enjoy it and I really hope you enjoy Frankie’s Letter
Historical Note
Frankie’s Letter is, of course, fiction, but one of its chief characters, Sir Charles Talbot, is based upon a real person.
William Melville, the man who would become the Secret Service’s “M”, was an Irishman, born in poverty in County Kerry in 1850. He ran away from home and in 1872 joined the London police. He made a name for himself as a quick-witted and capable officer, who, among other things, arrested Fenians and anarchists, was involved in the search for Jack The Ripper and was appointed as the Royal bodyguard. He retired, at the peak of his career, in 1903, with the rank of superintendent.
The retirement was fictional; what Melville actually did was to set up a small office near Scotland Yard under the name and title of W. Morgan, General Agent. As W. Morgan, he looked after both espionage and counter-espionage. His job was entirely hands-on. That not only suited Melville’s character, it was necessary. As he had agents but no staff, he had little choice.
In 1909, the service expanded, taking on Captain Vernon Kell, of the South Staffordshire Regiment and the flamboyant, sword-stick wielding ex-Naval officer, Mansfield Smith-Cunningham (“C”) to run various sections of the infant service. All three men, in their separate offices strung out along the Thames, were unofficially supported and officially unacknowledged by the government – a state of affairs which suited the modest William Melville very well indeed.
If anyone is interested in finding out more about this fascinating man, I can recommend Andrew Cook’s M: M15’s First Spymaster as a reliable and thoroughly absorbing account.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Jack's First Three Adventures on Kindle!
The big news of my week has been the publication of the first three Jack Haldean novels on Kindle!
Here's the link for Amazon.co.uk
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_8?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=dolores+gordon+smith&sprefix=Dolores+%2Cdigital-text%2C296
And here's the link for amazon.com (USA)
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=node%3D1286228011&field-keywords=Dolores+Gordon+smith&rh=n%3A133140011%2Cn%3A%21133143011%2Cn%3A%21251259011%2Cn%3A1286228011%2Ck%3ADolores+Gordon+smith
They've been published as part of Severn House's Severn Select programme and the prices are very reasonable, at £3.60 in the UK and five dollars-ish in the USA. So, if you missed Jack's first adventures, here's a chance to catch up.
I was very iffy about the idea of Kindles when they first came out. I know some people don't like them, missing the touch and feel of a "real" book. However, I took the plunge and was surprised how easy it was to use. It's certainly easier to travel with! I used to take a stack of books on holiday with me (goodness knows why, as our holidays never have that chilled out, relaxing quality I always feel they should!) but now I've got one slim kindle and that's that. As to which kindle to buy... Now that's another story!
On a completely different subject, i'm still in mourning for the Olympics, particularly now the Paralympics have been and gone. Even the dog, Lucky (aka Tripod) decided to join in the games.
Still, Andy Murray did win the US Open. Watch him on the Head advert on Youtube – Wow!
Here's the link for Amazon.co.uk
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_1_8?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=dolores+gordon+smith&sprefix=Dolores+%2Cdigital-text%2C296
And here's the link for amazon.com (USA)
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=node%3D1286228011&field-keywords=Dolores+Gordon+smith&rh=n%3A133140011%2Cn%3A%21133143011%2Cn%3A%21251259011%2Cn%3A1286228011%2Ck%3ADolores+Gordon+smith
They've been published as part of Severn House's Severn Select programme and the prices are very reasonable, at £3.60 in the UK and five dollars-ish in the USA. So, if you missed Jack's first adventures, here's a chance to catch up.
I was very iffy about the idea of Kindles when they first came out. I know some people don't like them, missing the touch and feel of a "real" book. However, I took the plunge and was surprised how easy it was to use. It's certainly easier to travel with! I used to take a stack of books on holiday with me (goodness knows why, as our holidays never have that chilled out, relaxing quality I always feel they should!) but now I've got one slim kindle and that's that. As to which kindle to buy... Now that's another story!
On a completely different subject, i'm still in mourning for the Olympics, particularly now the Paralympics have been and gone. Even the dog, Lucky (aka Tripod) decided to join in the games.
Still, Andy Murray did win the US Open. Watch him on the Head advert on Youtube – Wow!
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