February 26th 2009
Hello there …
I have just heard that the publishers have accepted my new Angel book, SHRINE TO MURDER. This is the fifteenth book in the Angel series.
Blow the trumpets. Bang the drum. Put out the red carpet. The Milky Bars are on me! Somebody up there likes me, or is it Inspector Angel they like?
I haven’t got an official publication date yet, but it will likely be December this year or January 2010.
Less pleasing, I had to have a barium enema at the hospital on Monday afternoon.
No solid grub for the one and a half days before the enema … just jelly, consommé, tea and coffee without milk, and water. Absolutely nothing else. Not a lot of fun. They sent me all the detailed preparatory instructions including two pouches of a special laxative, which I had to mix carefully with water, stand well back, leave to stand for five minutes then drink it. It tasted of salty petrol. Well, about two hours later, I knew it had found its target. I think it’s the same stuff they use to power rockets to the moon.
Anyway, as Roy Barraclough asked Les Dawson on his return from his holiday to Athens, ‘Did you get on the Acropolis?’ And the comedian famously replied, ‘I was never off it.’
Well, I was never off our Acropolis.
Anyway, on Monday afternoon, I went to the hospital, went through ‘the procedure’ … it wasn’t so bad. It took about an hour. I returned home and since then I have been back on a normal diet. But it’s now Thursday afternoon and I’m just working away … I’ve had no call to … go back to visit our Acropolis.
It’s all a bit worrying … I’ve heard these stories about doctors doing operations and leaving a retractor or a scalpel inside the patient … I wonder if they’ve left anything up there? I've just remembered, a very rude man once said something to me. I wonder if one of those doctors was him in disguise, and there's a manuscript of one of my books causing the blockage?
Thanks for looking in. I’ll get back to you soon.
February 16th 2009.
Last Wednesday, the queen stumbled coming down a step out of the pantry and hurt her leg. It was very painful for her to walk, so she rang our GP and asked him to have a look at her. He said an X ray was necessary so a hospital trip was unavoidable. He could organize an ambulance or we could make our own way to A & E. It was a struggle getting her in and out of the car, but we managed it, and after three hours waiting around in the hospital, the doctor pronounced that she had a damaged cartilage and that she must rest it for a few weeks! Weeks!!
Well I’m very sorry for her, bless her, and I know it hurts a heck of a lot, but who do you think is back on the old washing up, cooking and cat feeding routine?
Anyway, rejoice. I say rejoice and be exceeding glad because I have finished writing my 15th Angel book. Yes. And I have finally settled on the title – SHRINE TO MURDER. The book’s a bit scary and very different, but it’s fun. I hope my loyal band of followers will enjoy reading it. (It won’t be published before November at the earliest, and that’s assuming Hales accept it! The financial climate being what it is, who knows what to expect?)
I started printing the finished copy on my PC last night to submit it to the publishers, but it went wrong. It printed a few pages then started missing the top half of the letters across a full line, irregularly down the page. I phoned James, who looks after this website for suggestions. He suggested cleaning the heads, but I told him that I had done that several times: he was tending to think that the thing had printed off its last book narrative. I phoned Leigh who looks after my computers, and he thought the printer head had probably had it, but as a get me by, he suggested that I changed the Printing Preferences setting from ‘Text only’ to ‘Text and pictures.’ He said it would push more ink through and might work. It did work and seemed a great idea. However, after printing 5 or 6 pages it pushed too much ink through which meant that a untidy spider marks sometimes appeared on the page. Anyway, I have persevered and have finished up with a reasonably tidy and clean copy to submit to Hales.
I can’t be messing about like that so I’ve asked Leigh to kit me out with a laser printer which is supposed to be much more reliable and quicker. It only prints in black, but I reckon colours are for wimps, don’t you?
Of course, the queen has to read it first and give me her verdict. She is always very kind (too kind). She always says it’s good to encourage me and keep me happy, when it might be rubbish, so I have to take her opinion with a pinch of salt. But I can often tell by her questions, if I haven’t covered a point sufficiently well, or I haven’t reasonably or adequately explained something, or she simply doesn’t like it.
Hey! What do you think to the mild weather? Soon have to think of getting our cossies out again. Where’s the suntan?
Thanks for looking in. Wish me luck with the book. I’ll keep you posted, and get back to you soon.
Last Wednesday, the queen stumbled coming down a step out of the pantry and hurt her leg. It was very painful for her to walk, so she rang our GP and asked him to have a look at her. He said an X ray was necessary so a hospital trip was unavoidable. He could organize an ambulance or we could make our own way to A & E. It was a struggle getting her in and out of the car, but we managed it, and after three hours waiting around in the hospital, the doctor pronounced that she had a damaged cartilage and that she must rest it for a few weeks! Weeks!!
Well I’m very sorry for her, bless her, and I know it hurts a heck of a lot, but who do you think is back on the old washing up, cooking and cat feeding routine?
Anyway, rejoice. I say rejoice and be exceeding glad because I have finished writing my 15th Angel book. Yes. And I have finally settled on the title – SHRINE TO MURDER. The book’s a bit scary and very different, but it’s fun. I hope my loyal band of followers will enjoy reading it. (It won’t be published before November at the earliest, and that’s assuming Hales accept it! The financial climate being what it is, who knows what to expect?)
I started printing the finished copy on my PC last night to submit it to the publishers, but it went wrong. It printed a few pages then started missing the top half of the letters across a full line, irregularly down the page. I phoned James, who looks after this website for suggestions. He suggested cleaning the heads, but I told him that I had done that several times: he was tending to think that the thing had printed off its last book narrative. I phoned Leigh who looks after my computers, and he thought the printer head had probably had it, but as a get me by, he suggested that I changed the Printing Preferences setting from ‘Text only’ to ‘Text and pictures.’ He said it would push more ink through and might work. It did work and seemed a great idea. However, after printing 5 or 6 pages it pushed too much ink through which meant that a untidy spider marks sometimes appeared on the page. Anyway, I have persevered and have finished up with a reasonably tidy and clean copy to submit to Hales.
I can’t be messing about like that so I’ve asked Leigh to kit me out with a laser printer which is supposed to be much more reliable and quicker. It only prints in black, but I reckon colours are for wimps, don’t you?
Of course, the queen has to read it first and give me her verdict. She is always very kind (too kind). She always says it’s good to encourage me and keep me happy, when it might be rubbish, so I have to take her opinion with a pinch of salt. But I can often tell by her questions, if I haven’t covered a point sufficiently well, or I haven’t reasonably or adequately explained something, or she simply doesn’t like it.
Hey! What do you think to the mild weather? Soon have to think of getting our cossies out again. Where’s the suntan?
Thanks for looking in. Wish me luck with the book. I’ll keep you posted, and get back to you soon.
February 8th 2009
Hello there.
Is the white stuff getting you down?
We live in an old ostler’s house near the foot of the Pennines. It’s at the bottom of a steep lane, which makes access difficult in winter weather. We are surrounded by snow. On two sides its snow as far as you can see. It’s beautiful in sunshine but can be spooky when the sky comes dark. We haven’t been able to get out for five days. Had no post, and the dustbin men haven’t been. It’s been like so quiet. Unexpectedly on Thursday, there was a knock on the door. I couldn’t imagine who it was. I thought it might have been a passing reindeer who had lost his way, seeking directions to the North Pole, but no … it was a pretty lady called Vicky, who must be new to the big house further down the lane. She and her husband were going to tackle the hill on foot (sounds like the Eiger) and wondered if we needed anything from the shop. How very kind. Thankfully the queen had been very clever. We did an extra big shop last weekend in anticipation of a heavy snowfall, which has meant that we hadn't been short of anything during our forced isolation. But it was very kind of Vicky (whoever she is) though, wasn’t it?
I had been out each day to feed the wild birds and the feral cats, of course. Must look after them, particularly when there’s snow on the ground. But it has been very very quiet. The quietness has had its advantages though. It has enabled me to finish the first draft of my Angel book, which I’m very excited about. Another two weeks and I should have completed it ready to go the publishers. I’m toying with SHRINE TO MURDER for the title. I had originally thought of MURDER BY NUMBERS. What do you think?
The postman delivered a load of post the first time this morning. Included in it was my bank statement, which doesn’t make for good reading so close after Christmas.
Also had an email from the publishers. It was the artist’s book jacket rough of my Angel book, THE CUCKOO CLOCK SCAM, which is to be published in October, which looks positively great.
Hope you’re managing through these cold, inhospitable days. They are really testing some people. The bad weather usually finishes by the end of February, so there’s only 20 days to go …. Then cometh the Spring, daffodils and all that. So hang on in there.
PS. Late yesterday afternoon, we went out to Tescos for some victuals after all. The queen had taken stock and looked at the weather forecast. It had been thawing a bit in the sun, so I said I thought we’d be able to get the car up the hill. We managed it easily and the roads at the top were clear. We dashed out and brought back a boatload of stuff without any difficulty. I quickly unloaded it and plonked it in the kitchen, and put the car in the garage, while she unpacked it and put it away.
When I came upstairs to write this, the queen was in her favourite chair with a cup of coffee, purring.
Take care.
Hello there.
Is the white stuff getting you down?
We live in an old ostler’s house near the foot of the Pennines. It’s at the bottom of a steep lane, which makes access difficult in winter weather. We are surrounded by snow. On two sides its snow as far as you can see. It’s beautiful in sunshine but can be spooky when the sky comes dark. We haven’t been able to get out for five days. Had no post, and the dustbin men haven’t been. It’s been like so quiet. Unexpectedly on Thursday, there was a knock on the door. I couldn’t imagine who it was. I thought it might have been a passing reindeer who had lost his way, seeking directions to the North Pole, but no … it was a pretty lady called Vicky, who must be new to the big house further down the lane. She and her husband were going to tackle the hill on foot (sounds like the Eiger) and wondered if we needed anything from the shop. How very kind. Thankfully the queen had been very clever. We did an extra big shop last weekend in anticipation of a heavy snowfall, which has meant that we hadn't been short of anything during our forced isolation. But it was very kind of Vicky (whoever she is) though, wasn’t it?
I had been out each day to feed the wild birds and the feral cats, of course. Must look after them, particularly when there’s snow on the ground. But it has been very very quiet. The quietness has had its advantages though. It has enabled me to finish the first draft of my Angel book, which I’m very excited about. Another two weeks and I should have completed it ready to go the publishers. I’m toying with SHRINE TO MURDER for the title. I had originally thought of MURDER BY NUMBERS. What do you think?
The postman delivered a load of post the first time this morning. Included in it was my bank statement, which doesn’t make for good reading so close after Christmas.
Also had an email from the publishers. It was the artist’s book jacket rough of my Angel book, THE CUCKOO CLOCK SCAM, which is to be published in October, which looks positively great.
Hope you’re managing through these cold, inhospitable days. They are really testing some people. The bad weather usually finishes by the end of February, so there’s only 20 days to go …. Then cometh the Spring, daffodils and all that. So hang on in there.
PS. Late yesterday afternoon, we went out to Tescos for some victuals after all. The queen had taken stock and looked at the weather forecast. It had been thawing a bit in the sun, so I said I thought we’d be able to get the car up the hill. We managed it easily and the roads at the top were clear. We dashed out and brought back a boatload of stuff without any difficulty. I quickly unloaded it and plonked it in the kitchen, and put the car in the garage, while she unpacked it and put it away.
When I came upstairs to write this, the queen was in her favourite chair with a cup of coffee, purring.
Take care.
January 25th
The Conversion of St Paul.
Also the 250th anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns.
There you are. I wondered where you were.
I apologize for neglecting this diary but I have had my head down writing my new Angel book, and trying to avoid the responsibilities of husband, householder and citizen of the world. It was all going terribly well until I estimated that I was going to overrun by around 40/45 pages. Now that’s a lot. I couldn’t expect the publisher to find room for that much excess, so I’ve had to adjust the plot slightly and make some changes; it will necessitate some re-writing. The whole thing will set me back about a month. It’ll make a better book out of it (else I wouldn’t do it). There will be fewer characters and that will streamline the story and make it easier (that is quicker) to read.
It’s quite a scary tale about a serial murderer who seems to know what is happening and therefore must be very close to Angel and the team. Its tentative title is MURDER BY NUMBERS, but that might change.
Hey! Yesterday I was conned by the queen. She knows I won’t go into shops during the lunatic period some people call ‘The Sales,’ when sweet reasonableness, good taste and commonsense fly out of the window and idiocy and greed take over. She asked me at very short notice to take her to Cortonwood. It’s a retail shopping centre about twenty minutes away. You know I can never say no to her. She always gets her own way. She was so excited. Anybody would think I was taking her to see Karen Mathews being banged up. She wanted some blouses of a certain size, colour, design and fastening, but they were not to be had. It gave me the opportunity to browse round a book shop. It was great. I found some old reference books about crime that I was eager to have, also I bought RAVEN BLACK by Ann Cleeves I had wanted (I met her at a Crime Writers’ Association dinner, she’s a prize winning writer and a very nice woman) and THE SUSPICIONS OF MR WHICHER by Kate Summerscale which I had also been told was great. I don’t have a lot of time to read, but I like to have something on hand when sitting around in doctor’s surgeries, hospitals and waiting rooms at railway stations (and in bathrooms!).
By the way ...
Have you noticed how difficult it is to get hold of a really nice sponge? Well you have to buy artificial because, I am told, the natural ones are shapeless and soon fall apart. Artificial ones are made from plastic foam I believe. You would think the ingenuity of man would be able to devise a simple sponge.
I have had four rubbishy ones over the past 12 months. Even the best of them had to be washed and squeezed and massaged to remove all the soap I’d rubbed into them time after time, and they all eventually turn into slimy lumps beyond redemption. I seem to remember as a child having great fun in the bath with a big one. Oh, somebody out there make me a sponge!
If you want to write to me, you can, at <angeldetective@uwclub.net>, and if it’s really interesting, I might publish it here.
By the way, don’t believe all you see on television, the newspapers and on the radio. Journalists, reporters and newsmen have never had it so good. The end of the world is not imminent. Disaster is not about to knock on your door. The world will survive. This chaos in the banking and financial world is all about readjusting the distribution of wealth. The easy days are over. The jackpot, crackpot days of something for nothing are gone. The magic dust has turned into sand. Luck has run out for the incompetent leeches who run businesses, banks*, institutions, large and small, and they will now have to start working for a living. It may be tough for some little people - and I greatly regret that – but for those who will work hard and are worth their wage packet, it will be a lot better in the end, so hang on in there.
I’ll get back to you soon. Take care.
*Banks are businesses just like Woolworths. I don’t believe they should have special treatment at our expense, do you?
The Conversion of St Paul.
Also the 250th anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns.
There you are. I wondered where you were.
I apologize for neglecting this diary but I have had my head down writing my new Angel book, and trying to avoid the responsibilities of husband, householder and citizen of the world. It was all going terribly well until I estimated that I was going to overrun by around 40/45 pages. Now that’s a lot. I couldn’t expect the publisher to find room for that much excess, so I’ve had to adjust the plot slightly and make some changes; it will necessitate some re-writing. The whole thing will set me back about a month. It’ll make a better book out of it (else I wouldn’t do it). There will be fewer characters and that will streamline the story and make it easier (that is quicker) to read.
It’s quite a scary tale about a serial murderer who seems to know what is happening and therefore must be very close to Angel and the team. Its tentative title is MURDER BY NUMBERS, but that might change.
Hey! Yesterday I was conned by the queen. She knows I won’t go into shops during the lunatic period some people call ‘The Sales,’ when sweet reasonableness, good taste and commonsense fly out of the window and idiocy and greed take over. She asked me at very short notice to take her to Cortonwood. It’s a retail shopping centre about twenty minutes away. You know I can never say no to her. She always gets her own way. She was so excited. Anybody would think I was taking her to see Karen Mathews being banged up. She wanted some blouses of a certain size, colour, design and fastening, but they were not to be had. It gave me the opportunity to browse round a book shop. It was great. I found some old reference books about crime that I was eager to have, also I bought RAVEN BLACK by Ann Cleeves I had wanted (I met her at a Crime Writers’ Association dinner, she’s a prize winning writer and a very nice woman) and THE SUSPICIONS OF MR WHICHER by Kate Summerscale which I had also been told was great. I don’t have a lot of time to read, but I like to have something on hand when sitting around in doctor’s surgeries, hospitals and waiting rooms at railway stations (and in bathrooms!).
By the way ...
Have you noticed how difficult it is to get hold of a really nice sponge? Well you have to buy artificial because, I am told, the natural ones are shapeless and soon fall apart. Artificial ones are made from plastic foam I believe. You would think the ingenuity of man would be able to devise a simple sponge.
I have had four rubbishy ones over the past 12 months. Even the best of them had to be washed and squeezed and massaged to remove all the soap I’d rubbed into them time after time, and they all eventually turn into slimy lumps beyond redemption. I seem to remember as a child having great fun in the bath with a big one. Oh, somebody out there make me a sponge!
If you want to write to me, you can, at <angeldetective@uwclub.net>, and if it’s really interesting, I might publish it here.
By the way, don’t believe all you see on television, the newspapers and on the radio. Journalists, reporters and newsmen have never had it so good. The end of the world is not imminent. Disaster is not about to knock on your door. The world will survive. This chaos in the banking and financial world is all about readjusting the distribution of wealth. The easy days are over. The jackpot, crackpot days of something for nothing are gone. The magic dust has turned into sand. Luck has run out for the incompetent leeches who run businesses, banks*, institutions, large and small, and they will now have to start working for a living. It may be tough for some little people - and I greatly regret that – but for those who will work hard and are worth their wage packet, it will be a lot better in the end, so hang on in there.
I’ll get back to you soon. Take care.
*Banks are businesses just like Woolworths. I don’t believe they should have special treatment at our expense, do you?
January 6th Twelve Night 2009
There you are.
Well it’s all over. Would you believe it? Taken the cards and tree and trimmings down. Hope you had a great time. If you had a party I hope it went with well. If there was just the two of you or you are on your own, hope you managed to keep warm, well and happy.
I bought myself a big posh expensive looking volume called, “Great British Fictional Detectives A – Z”, by Russell James. Published January 1st. It’s supposed to be the latest authority on the subject. Well, you’ve got to keep up to date with what’s going on. Of course it’s full of big wheels like Sherlock Holmes, Poirot, Morse and so on. You would expect that. But it also included Maigret, Columbo and some others, who are not British, which surprised me greatly, considering the title of the book. Anyway, I wanted to see what they had written about Angel. I was pleasantly surprised. I reproduce the entry below …
MICHAEL ANGEL
by Roger Silverwood
DI Angel is a serious, hard working copper from South Yorkshire, who thinks for himself and does his own thing while relying nevertheless on his team of four close colleagues. Off duty, he loves his wife, his cats and murder – but the only time he ever smiles is when a murderer gets Life. The series is set in the present day, in real time, with Angel currently in his mid–forties.
In The Midst of Life (2001), Choker (2002), The Man in the Pink Suit (2003), The Importance of Being Honest (2003) Mantrap (2004), Salamander (2005) Sham (2006) The Umbrella Man (2005), The Man Who Couldn’t Lose (2007), The Curious Mind of Inspector Angel (2007), Find The Lady (2008), Wigmaker (2008), Murder in Bare Feet (2008).
… Don’t you think they did him proud? I was tolerably well suited. It summed Angel up very well, I thought. I found the book most interesting … included a few writer friends I know or have met.
Did you know that it’s illegal to take chewing-gum into Singapore? Perfectly true.
Importing or distributing chewing gum is a crime punishable by a fine or up to one year in prison.
I found that out the other day when I was reading a legal book, researching a smuggling story I am thinking of writing. Personally I don’t use chewing gum. I only mention it because it just sounded so ridiculous.
It is very cold today, but cheer up, the forecasters say it’ll be warmer tomorrow and at the weekend.
Thanks for looking in. I’ll get back to you soon.
There you are.
Well it’s all over. Would you believe it? Taken the cards and tree and trimmings down. Hope you had a great time. If you had a party I hope it went with well. If there was just the two of you or you are on your own, hope you managed to keep warm, well and happy.
I bought myself a big posh expensive looking volume called, “Great British Fictional Detectives A – Z”, by Russell James. Published January 1st. It’s supposed to be the latest authority on the subject. Well, you’ve got to keep up to date with what’s going on. Of course it’s full of big wheels like Sherlock Holmes, Poirot, Morse and so on. You would expect that. But it also included Maigret, Columbo and some others, who are not British, which surprised me greatly, considering the title of the book. Anyway, I wanted to see what they had written about Angel. I was pleasantly surprised. I reproduce the entry below …
MICHAEL ANGEL
by Roger Silverwood
DI Angel is a serious, hard working copper from South Yorkshire, who thinks for himself and does his own thing while relying nevertheless on his team of four close colleagues. Off duty, he loves his wife, his cats and murder – but the only time he ever smiles is when a murderer gets Life. The series is set in the present day, in real time, with Angel currently in his mid–forties.
In The Midst of Life (2001), Choker (2002), The Man in the Pink Suit (2003), The Importance of Being Honest (2003) Mantrap (2004), Salamander (2005) Sham (2006) The Umbrella Man (2005), The Man Who Couldn’t Lose (2007), The Curious Mind of Inspector Angel (2007), Find The Lady (2008), Wigmaker (2008), Murder in Bare Feet (2008).
… Don’t you think they did him proud? I was tolerably well suited. It summed Angel up very well, I thought. I found the book most interesting … included a few writer friends I know or have met.
Did you know that it’s illegal to take chewing-gum into Singapore? Perfectly true.
Importing or distributing chewing gum is a crime punishable by a fine or up to one year in prison.
I found that out the other day when I was reading a legal book, researching a smuggling story I am thinking of writing. Personally I don’t use chewing gum. I only mention it because it just sounded so ridiculous.
It is very cold today, but cheer up, the forecasters say it’ll be warmer tomorrow and at the weekend.
Thanks for looking in. I’ll get back to you soon.
December 26th Boxing Day 2008
It’s all over. Christmas Day came and went as fast as a publisher’s royalty cheque.
After midnight communion (where I developed a sore throat, the result of a determination to sing all eight carols whether the woman in front of me liked it or not), the queen and I got to bed at about one forty-five Christmas day morning. I was so excited I didn’t drop off until about three, but woke up with a slight headache and a dry throat around seven thirty in the morning, about as happy as Woolworth’s sweetie supplier.
Between several phone calls to and from family and friends, I wrote and wrote my new Angel book. I made good progress. Meanwhile the queen was downstairs preparing a gargantuan meal to be served up at five-thirty.
Christmas dinner was great, but I had a second helping of Christmas pudding, which was the quintessence of Silverwood gluttony and my personal downfall.
We saw a bit of telly in the evening, and a great little film we had recorded called THE MAN WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS. (Shades of FOYLE’S WAR which we enjoy.) Sounds like a kid’s tale, but it was about a toy factory owner in the US, torn between making armaments or toys during World War 1. The only actor we knew was an amusing crusty old shuffler called Edward Asner. I remember he played an amusing crusty young editor in THE MARY TAYLOR MOORE SHOW a hundred years previously. You might remember him.
Yesterday (and today) there were some top-notch films but we’ve seen them all several times before.
Went to bed early to make up for loss of sleep. However I woke up at 3.20 am this morning. Couldn’t get off again. The overindulgence of Christmas pud was part of the reason. I knew I would pay for it. Anyway, it was not all a loss. I used some of the quiet time to write more of my Angel book until just gone five. Then the queen woke up, so I got up and made us a very early breakfast.
The Christmas pud problem was still with me. There was only one thing to do. At seven o’clock, I got washed, shaved and dressed and went out for a four mile walk. Now that might seem no distance at all to you, but it equates to walking from Land’s End to Melbourne and back to me. And it was absolutely desolate. It was like attending my own funeral procession. I only saw four zombies the entire walk. One every mile. And they were in hoodies and walking big ugly dogs. The streets were about as lively as the main street in Tombstone just before Jesse James, Frank James and Doc Holliday were expected to ride in.
I got back home at 10.35 am. The front of my legs hurt something rotten. The queen just laughed at me. I got undressed, came back to bed and wrote more Angel. I got stuck just after 12 noon, so I began to write this.
You know, the queen and I have had a super Christmas and I hope that - whatever your dreams were for this Christmastime - that they all came true.
One small gripe. The media seems to think that Christmas is all about buying, and high street retailers and whether it’s at a 30%, 50% or 75% discount. I must say, I have never been less interested. It’s true that I am very lucky, but even so, there are stacks of things in life that I would still like, but none of them could be bought from a high street retailer at even 100% discount. They simply haven't anything I want.
In this house, we ignore the media and all that advertising and PR stuff, and those overpaid celebrities pushing their pension schemes, debt advice, building societies, three piece suites and whatever. Join us. Keep the magic of Christmas alive. Do what you want to do and have a wonderful time.
It’s all over. Christmas Day came and went as fast as a publisher’s royalty cheque.
After midnight communion (where I developed a sore throat, the result of a determination to sing all eight carols whether the woman in front of me liked it or not), the queen and I got to bed at about one forty-five Christmas day morning. I was so excited I didn’t drop off until about three, but woke up with a slight headache and a dry throat around seven thirty in the morning, about as happy as Woolworth’s sweetie supplier.
Between several phone calls to and from family and friends, I wrote and wrote my new Angel book. I made good progress. Meanwhile the queen was downstairs preparing a gargantuan meal to be served up at five-thirty.
Christmas dinner was great, but I had a second helping of Christmas pudding, which was the quintessence of Silverwood gluttony and my personal downfall.
We saw a bit of telly in the evening, and a great little film we had recorded called THE MAN WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS. (Shades of FOYLE’S WAR which we enjoy.) Sounds like a kid’s tale, but it was about a toy factory owner in the US, torn between making armaments or toys during World War 1. The only actor we knew was an amusing crusty old shuffler called Edward Asner. I remember he played an amusing crusty young editor in THE MARY TAYLOR MOORE SHOW a hundred years previously. You might remember him.
Yesterday (and today) there were some top-notch films but we’ve seen them all several times before.
Went to bed early to make up for loss of sleep. However I woke up at 3.20 am this morning. Couldn’t get off again. The overindulgence of Christmas pud was part of the reason. I knew I would pay for it. Anyway, it was not all a loss. I used some of the quiet time to write more of my Angel book until just gone five. Then the queen woke up, so I got up and made us a very early breakfast.
The Christmas pud problem was still with me. There was only one thing to do. At seven o’clock, I got washed, shaved and dressed and went out for a four mile walk. Now that might seem no distance at all to you, but it equates to walking from Land’s End to Melbourne and back to me. And it was absolutely desolate. It was like attending my own funeral procession. I only saw four zombies the entire walk. One every mile. And they were in hoodies and walking big ugly dogs. The streets were about as lively as the main street in Tombstone just before Jesse James, Frank James and Doc Holliday were expected to ride in.
I got back home at 10.35 am. The front of my legs hurt something rotten. The queen just laughed at me. I got undressed, came back to bed and wrote more Angel. I got stuck just after 12 noon, so I began to write this.
You know, the queen and I have had a super Christmas and I hope that - whatever your dreams were for this Christmastime - that they all came true.
One small gripe. The media seems to think that Christmas is all about buying, and high street retailers and whether it’s at a 30%, 50% or 75% discount. I must say, I have never been less interested. It’s true that I am very lucky, but even so, there are stacks of things in life that I would still like, but none of them could be bought from a high street retailer at even 100% discount. They simply haven't anything I want.
In this house, we ignore the media and all that advertising and PR stuff, and those overpaid celebrities pushing their pension schemes, debt advice, building societies, three piece suites and whatever. Join us. Keep the magic of Christmas alive. Do what you want to do and have a wonderful time.
December 22nd 2008
It’s all done. In our small way, we are ready for the great day.
And this year, we’ve never had so many Christmas cards. I’ve enjoyed opening every one. And each one is joyfully reciprocated. Some are from beloved distant relatives, who we haven’t seen for ages. Some from valuable friends we have made over the years who live far away. The rest are from life’s throng of friends, relations and enemies. Each card is enjoyed, renews and restores old relationships, and is full of memories.
I heard the husband of a well known celebrity couple on the telly say, in a superior way, ‘We aren’t sending cards this year … such a waste … we are sending the money to charity.’
On what they’re paid, they could afford to do both.
Poor souls. I don’t suppose they have many friends.
Happier news …
Another of my nephews, Dylan, popped in on Saturday. It was great to see him. He brought a bottle, a Christmas cake and some mince pies, which was very nice. We had a long chat and I took him down to the pub for an hour. He’s going to the West Indies over the holiday season. He enjoys diving so he’ll be having a great time in the water and warmth of the Caribbean. I thought, he’ll want something to read in the plane, so I gave him a copy of THE WIGMAKER. Well, all right. I don’t know whether he wanted something to read in the plane or not. I gave him the book anyway. Got to get rid of them somehow.
I’ve had a glance at the new Radio Times. There’s very little on the box for us this Christmastime. Comedians who aren’t funny. Repeats of very old films. Do you know, I’ve seen THE AFRICAN QUEEN that many times, I know the lines and pauses better than Humphrey Bogart.
Almost everything else is a repeat of a repeat. So most of the time I shall be cracking along writing my new Angel book, and I might catch up with some sleep. The queen has some reading she wants to do and she enjoys the TV hospital soaps like Casualty and Holby City where there is a lot of blood, pain, hypodermic needles and all the patients die.
Anyway there’s only two days to go, so now is the time to slip gently into ‘the magic of Christmas’ mode. Whether you’re joining in a big party, or there’s just two of you, or you are on your own, keep the magic alive.
And whatever your dreams are for this Christmastime, I hope they all come true.
I’ll get back to you very soon.
It’s all done. In our small way, we are ready for the great day.
And this year, we’ve never had so many Christmas cards. I’ve enjoyed opening every one. And each one is joyfully reciprocated. Some are from beloved distant relatives, who we haven’t seen for ages. Some from valuable friends we have made over the years who live far away. The rest are from life’s throng of friends, relations and enemies. Each card is enjoyed, renews and restores old relationships, and is full of memories.
I heard the husband of a well known celebrity couple on the telly say, in a superior way, ‘We aren’t sending cards this year … such a waste … we are sending the money to charity.’
On what they’re paid, they could afford to do both.
Poor souls. I don’t suppose they have many friends.
Happier news …
Another of my nephews, Dylan, popped in on Saturday. It was great to see him. He brought a bottle, a Christmas cake and some mince pies, which was very nice. We had a long chat and I took him down to the pub for an hour. He’s going to the West Indies over the holiday season. He enjoys diving so he’ll be having a great time in the water and warmth of the Caribbean. I thought, he’ll want something to read in the plane, so I gave him a copy of THE WIGMAKER. Well, all right. I don’t know whether he wanted something to read in the plane or not. I gave him the book anyway. Got to get rid of them somehow.
I’ve had a glance at the new Radio Times. There’s very little on the box for us this Christmastime. Comedians who aren’t funny. Repeats of very old films. Do you know, I’ve seen THE AFRICAN QUEEN that many times, I know the lines and pauses better than Humphrey Bogart.
Almost everything else is a repeat of a repeat. So most of the time I shall be cracking along writing my new Angel book, and I might catch up with some sleep. The queen has some reading she wants to do and she enjoys the TV hospital soaps like Casualty and Holby City where there is a lot of blood, pain, hypodermic needles and all the patients die.
Anyway there’s only two days to go, so now is the time to slip gently into ‘the magic of Christmas’ mode. Whether you’re joining in a big party, or there’s just two of you, or you are on your own, keep the magic alive.
And whatever your dreams are for this Christmastime, I hope they all come true.
I’ll get back to you very soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)