September 15th 2009

I’m sat here like a hen sat on an egg, waiting to see if the publishers are going to accept the new Angel book I have submitted, THE SNUFF BOX MURDERS.

I already had a super plot idea in mind, so I’ve started another book. I have written the opening – a page and a half - which seems all right and I think, suitably intriguing, but I can’t think of a sub-plot, and that’s winding me up a bit. If it doesn’t come to me soon, I might paste and save what I have written somewhere, and instead, write a short story I have been carrying at the back of my mind, which I believe is ideal for a Sherlock Holmes pastiche. But I really don’t want to break away from writing about Angel. That’s what everybody seems to want and expects from me.

Now that I am between books, so to speak, I phoned my dear, old friend, the retired priest I have written about earlier in this diary. He is now 92¾, he was quick to remind me. I was ringing him to arrange to pick him up and take him to our favorite country pub for a meal and a drink together. He has always looked forward to that, as he doesn’t walk very well and didn’t therefore get out much. But sadly, much to my surprise and disappointment, he didn’t want to know. He was most gracious, but he really didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything. Not even a run in the country in the car. (He’s never been a car owner, himself) …. He explained that now he’s not keen to leave the tiny flat where he lives on his own. He said he feels confident there. He said that anyway, he can’t now comfortably wear shoes … slippers are the order of the day. He said he couldn’t eat much. He’s not very hungry, he said and his tummy is soon full. He would leave most of any meal. I said that it didn’t matter at all, but he wouldn’t have it. He said that he’d be embarrassed. There were probably other reasons, which he may have been unwilling to go into. In the end, I had to give in. I asked him if it would it be all right if I visited him. That seemed to be acceptable. Is there anything you would like me to bring with me? No thank you, Roger. I have everything I need. Just bring yourself, whenever you like.
I will, I said. Very soon. I am worried about him. 92¾ is a great age.

If you have a relation, friend or neighbour who is over 90, tell me what they like to do, what they like to eat and drink, where they like to go, what they like to see, and so on ... I am sure it would be most interesting. Email me at angeldetective@uwclub.net. I would always be pleased to hear from you and I might be able to include an extract of your letter in my next diary entry.

I say, this morning I bought ten ordinary 150 watt lamps for £19.90, that £1.99 each. The shop said that they had plenty and still expected to have stock up to 12 months from now … that is until they sell out, or the manufacturer stopped making them. I am pleased about that. I should have at least a year before I need worry about falling over the cat when going in the kitchen to make our night time cocoa or breaking my neck tripping up in the dark corner on the stairs when going to bed.

Come back soon if you can put up with more ramblings from this old writer.