Saturday, December 18th 2009
There you are. Thanks for coming back.
I bought a heavy new book called THE DEFENCE OF THE REALM: THE AUTHORIZED HISTORY OF MI5, and what an interesting tome it is. 1032 pages some of them detailing events and personalities from round here.
It mentions Arthur Scargill, one time leader of the NUM. It tells of the miners strike in 1984, his formation of ‘flying pickets,’ his dealings with the Russian miners union to get monetary support from them, also his successful negotiations with Colonel Qaddafi of Libya to procure funds to finance the strike. And many other interesting facts, including the exploits of heavy drinking Scottish Miners' leader, Mick McGahey, who came to Barnsley many times during the year long strike. Because his phone was being tapped, McGahey was very wary speaking on it about NUM business, but whose wife was never off the phone talking to friends and relations and innocently giving away all that her husband’s personal travel arrangements from which MI5 was able to anticipate the union’s plans.
There is comment about Roy Mason, MP for Barnsley, then a member of Prime Minister Harold Wilson’s cabinet, one time Secretary of State for Northern Ireland during the troubles. Now Lord Mason.
Geographically further away, but still no less intriguing, the book details how MI5 and the police found the Libyan who left a bomb to be detonated by a barometric fuse in a suitcase in a Boeing 747 which exploded over Lockerbie in Scotland in December 1988. There are several pages devoted to explaining how the forensic team found fragments of clothing classed as ‘category one blast damaged,’ and therefore from inside the suitcase containing the bomb, were eventually traced to an outlet in Malta. THere, a shopkeeper recalled selling the clothing to a man resembling a suspected Libyan intelligence officer, Ali Mohmed Al Megrahi.
I had always wondered how MI5 and the police had managed to make such a fantastic connection.
The book begins with the founding of MI5 in October 1909 in the office of a single private detective, Vernon Kell, at 64 Victoria Street, London. His only target was German spies. Today’s strength is around 3,300. The service occupies a massive pile on Millbank in London, and its target is any country that is, or might become, a threat to the security of the UK and the rest of the world.
To other things …
Great news about my book, WILD ABOUT HARRY. It is to be recorded onto CDs for the blind and those who like to listen in the car or anywhere like that. It will be released early next year. I don’t know who will make the recording yet. I expect it will be the same chap, Jonathan Keeble, who did such a great job with MURDER IN BARE FEET.
About Christmas ...
Well, I’ve written the cards, (unless anyone catches me out). I swear that somebody I don’t know very well will post a card to us at the very last push so that we can’t reciprocate. And we will be filled with embarrassment (if we remember) next time we see them.
I am really looking forward to this Christmas. I’ve had a quick look at the new double issue RADIO TIMES and from what I could see there’s very little telly for me.
On Christmas day, the queen and I will go to church. Hope the weather is friendly. We shall have a slap up turkey dinner at about 5 o’clock, then I shall simply sink into the quiet of the house … and rest, or I might take the opportunity to write. Also, maybe I will sleep better when things settle down and there’s just the queen and me.
Christmas is a great festival and it’s for everyone to enjoy and celebrate in their own way. The nativity is a magical story bringing love and hope to a poor working man and his wife. We can do with that love and hope here now, so, whether you’re on your own, just the two of you, or in a big party, keep the magic of Christmas alive. I hope your troubles are small ones, and whatever your dreams are for this Christmas time, may they all come true. Have a great time.
I’ll get back to you soon.
December 4th 2009
There you are.
You know, I was never much of a coffee drinker even at its peak in the 1980’s. I’ve gone off coffee completely now. I’m a 100% tea man. But have you noticed how tasteless tea is getting these days? I used to look forward to my cuppa, now I find it very uninteresting. It tastes of hot water. Or is it me? Even if you squeeze the bag between two spoons, as I do, it makes little difference. If I tried standing on it, I suppose it wouldn’t improve it. I won’t name the brand because I don’t want to get locked up. Anyway, I’ve tolerated this deterioration for about two months now until an idea came to me the other day.
About twenty-five years ago or so, I remembered the queen and I visiting an old uncle and aunt who lived in Suffolk, and they invited us to have a cup of tea. When it came, the cup (although beautifully decorated) hadn’t a handle and it didn’t have any milk in it either. I thought it was a bit queer. The queen soon realised that it was China tea and quickly declined. But I never say no. I took the special cup, tasted it and enjoyed the drink.
I also remember having China tea after a delicious Chinese meal in Leeds. That was in the days when you could choose lots of various dishes of separately cooked meats, fish, vegetables and fruits and you ‘composed’ your own selection on your plate. It made for some delightful mixtures and exotic taste combinations that are missing today. That was in the good old days, of course.
Anyway, on Monday, I had the brilliant idea of dumping traditional Indian tea and trying China tea. So I went into our supermarket on Wednesday and was surprised to find a vast selection of teas from all over the world on offer. I stood there and gawped at them. I took down some of the boxes and read the labels. The stories they told were better than the stuff I write. I thought the right one would be Pure White China Tea packed by a very well advertised beverage supplier.
I eagerly brought it home, had it made to the directions on the packet and it tasted foul. I was very disappointed. What do I do now? I suppose I’ll have to go back to my favourite drink, Champagne.
I would be interested to hear what you think about today’s tea (or anything else). The address is angeldetective@uwclub.net. If you write anything interesting, I might mention it here on the diary.
Now I really must get back to writing my new book. What I need is discipline. There is simply too much to do. Come back soon if you can tolerate the ramblings of an old writer.
There you are.
You know, I was never much of a coffee drinker even at its peak in the 1980’s. I’ve gone off coffee completely now. I’m a 100% tea man. But have you noticed how tasteless tea is getting these days? I used to look forward to my cuppa, now I find it very uninteresting. It tastes of hot water. Or is it me? Even if you squeeze the bag between two spoons, as I do, it makes little difference. If I tried standing on it, I suppose it wouldn’t improve it. I won’t name the brand because I don’t want to get locked up. Anyway, I’ve tolerated this deterioration for about two months now until an idea came to me the other day.
About twenty-five years ago or so, I remembered the queen and I visiting an old uncle and aunt who lived in Suffolk, and they invited us to have a cup of tea. When it came, the cup (although beautifully decorated) hadn’t a handle and it didn’t have any milk in it either. I thought it was a bit queer. The queen soon realised that it was China tea and quickly declined. But I never say no. I took the special cup, tasted it and enjoyed the drink.
I also remember having China tea after a delicious Chinese meal in Leeds. That was in the days when you could choose lots of various dishes of separately cooked meats, fish, vegetables and fruits and you ‘composed’ your own selection on your plate. It made for some delightful mixtures and exotic taste combinations that are missing today. That was in the good old days, of course.
Anyway, on Monday, I had the brilliant idea of dumping traditional Indian tea and trying China tea. So I went into our supermarket on Wednesday and was surprised to find a vast selection of teas from all over the world on offer. I stood there and gawped at them. I took down some of the boxes and read the labels. The stories they told were better than the stuff I write. I thought the right one would be Pure White China Tea packed by a very well advertised beverage supplier.
I eagerly brought it home, had it made to the directions on the packet and it tasted foul. I was very disappointed. What do I do now? I suppose I’ll have to go back to my favourite drink, Champagne.
I would be interested to hear what you think about today’s tea (or anything else). The address is angeldetective@uwclub.net. If you write anything interesting, I might mention it here on the diary.
Now I really must get back to writing my new book. What I need is discipline. There is simply too much to do. Come back soon if you can tolerate the ramblings of an old writer.
Sunday, November 8th 2009
There is a quality, glossy, colour, monthly magazine called MOSAIC which circulates the posh areas of Yorkshire. Well a few weeks back their chief reporter, Adam Civico, asked me if I would like to be the subject of an article – one of several – in the forthcoming November issue.
Now, you know I’m not vain. There isn’t a more modest man strutting his stuff in Barnsley than Roger Silverwood Esquire. But vanity is a powerful magnet, so I succumbed and agreed to be a subject.
The reporter duly came out, asked me questions, which seemed all right, and then a man followed him up to take photographs. Now I don’t photograph at all well. It doesn’t matter how the picture is taken, I always come out looking fat. This is outrageous, as everybody who knows me will tell you that I’m as slim and sylph like as a celery stick. So if in your travels you come across a copy of the November issue of MOSAIC and you find the piece about me, do remember that the photographs are not of me but of some other man of the same name.
Moving on ...
Yesterday, I had a great time. I was invited to talk to the Doncaster Writers’ Group at the Central Library there. I was met by the beautiful Stephanie, who I think is chair, but is too modest to admit to it. I also met Alan, Sylvia, Phil and many other interesting writers who are having various successes, including one author whose name I have sadly forgotten, who has written a book called LOVE IN A HAYSTACK, which I think is a fabulous title. We had a few laughs in between the serious question and answer session about writing and getting books published. They were lovely people and I hope I was able to help some of them.
I say, there’s WIZARD OF OZ on the telly this afternoon. I’ve seen it several times but there is something quite magical about it. The queen is going to record it. It’ll be something to watch on a dreary evening when there is only rubbish to watch.
Now I really must get back to writing my own book. What I need is discipline. There is simply too much to do. But come back soon, for more ramblings from this old writer.
There is a quality, glossy, colour, monthly magazine called MOSAIC which circulates the posh areas of Yorkshire. Well a few weeks back their chief reporter, Adam Civico, asked me if I would like to be the subject of an article – one of several – in the forthcoming November issue.
Now, you know I’m not vain. There isn’t a more modest man strutting his stuff in Barnsley than Roger Silverwood Esquire. But vanity is a powerful magnet, so I succumbed and agreed to be a subject.
The reporter duly came out, asked me questions, which seemed all right, and then a man followed him up to take photographs. Now I don’t photograph at all well. It doesn’t matter how the picture is taken, I always come out looking fat. This is outrageous, as everybody who knows me will tell you that I’m as slim and sylph like as a celery stick. So if in your travels you come across a copy of the November issue of MOSAIC and you find the piece about me, do remember that the photographs are not of me but of some other man of the same name.
Moving on ...
Yesterday, I had a great time. I was invited to talk to the Doncaster Writers’ Group at the Central Library there. I was met by the beautiful Stephanie, who I think is chair, but is too modest to admit to it. I also met Alan, Sylvia, Phil and many other interesting writers who are having various successes, including one author whose name I have sadly forgotten, who has written a book called LOVE IN A HAYSTACK, which I think is a fabulous title. We had a few laughs in between the serious question and answer session about writing and getting books published. They were lovely people and I hope I was able to help some of them.
I say, there’s WIZARD OF OZ on the telly this afternoon. I’ve seen it several times but there is something quite magical about it. The queen is going to record it. It’ll be something to watch on a dreary evening when there is only rubbish to watch.
Now I really must get back to writing my own book. What I need is discipline. There is simply too much to do. But come back soon, for more ramblings from this old writer.
Sunday October 25th 2009
Ah, there you are.
Sunday last it was the northern regional meeting and luncheon of the Crime Writers’ Association which was held in a posh hotel. The following Monday morning I was ill. I won’t bore you with the symptoms, but they didn’t involve the sweet smell of violets, a vision in diaphanous underwear or the resonance of gentle music from a stringed quintet. Oh no!
Anyway, this morning, I have been bustled out of bed at the queen’s insistence to turn the central heating clock back an hour. And while I was in the perpendicular position, I peered at the garden from the bathroom window, had a good scratch, wandered into the study, went through the post and switched on the computer … and here I am.
Well, as soon as I am fit, I will write you more. I don’t quite know where I am. My new Angel book has gone completely to pot. All I can remember is that some poor soul in a railway ticket office gets murdered on page 2.
Anyway, I’ll get cracking as soon as I am fit. Come back soon if you can put up with more ramblings from this old writer.
Ah, there you are.
Sunday last it was the northern regional meeting and luncheon of the Crime Writers’ Association which was held in a posh hotel. The following Monday morning I was ill. I won’t bore you with the symptoms, but they didn’t involve the sweet smell of violets, a vision in diaphanous underwear or the resonance of gentle music from a stringed quintet. Oh no!
Anyway, this morning, I have been bustled out of bed at the queen’s insistence to turn the central heating clock back an hour. And while I was in the perpendicular position, I peered at the garden from the bathroom window, had a good scratch, wandered into the study, went through the post and switched on the computer … and here I am.
Well, as soon as I am fit, I will write you more. I don’t quite know where I am. My new Angel book has gone completely to pot. All I can remember is that some poor soul in a railway ticket office gets murdered on page 2.
Anyway, I’ll get cracking as soon as I am fit. Come back soon if you can put up with more ramblings from this old writer.
30th September 2009
There you are. Where have you been?
This is publication day of THE CUCKOO CLOCK SCAM. Whoopee! This is the 14th Angel book. Whoever would have thought it?
It is also the day the queen and I set on one side for doing the shopping, so we shall be doing Tescos et al as normal today, and tomorrow - we are going out to the pub to celebrate with a terrific haddock and chips.
This afternoon, I reckon it will take an hour or two retuning our three televisions. The clever people out there say it’s easy, so I don’t expect it will be. If you’re one of the gifted people and do yours easily, why don’t you pop next door and offer to help them with theirs? Then you can call here and do ours.
Come back soon.
There you are. Where have you been?
This is publication day of THE CUCKOO CLOCK SCAM. Whoopee! This is the 14th Angel book. Whoever would have thought it?
It is also the day the queen and I set on one side for doing the shopping, so we shall be doing Tescos et al as normal today, and tomorrow - we are going out to the pub to celebrate with a terrific haddock and chips.
This afternoon, I reckon it will take an hour or two retuning our three televisions. The clever people out there say it’s easy, so I don’t expect it will be. If you’re one of the gifted people and do yours easily, why don’t you pop next door and offer to help them with theirs? Then you can call here and do ours.
Come back soon.
September 18th 2009
It’s been accepted. My latest book THE SNUFF BOX MURDERS has been accepted by the publishers and should be out in 2010. Received the letter this morning. And they said some very complimentary things about it, too. But, you know me. I’m far too modest to repeat them. (Let it never be said that I blow my own trumpet). But I am absolutely thrilled, and as my kind readers in the US might say in similar circumstances, ‘It’s awesome.’
Do you know, I feel like going to the fridge and opening a new bottle of lemonade. But I won’t. It’s too cold. THE SNUFF BOX MURDERS will be the 16th Angel book, and my diary notes tell me I started writing it on Tuesday, February 17th that’s nearly 7 months … seems more like 7 years. Anyway, now I’ve started another Angel book. I have a hot plot cooking.
Don’t forget. I’ve a new book coming out on September 30th. It’s called THE CUCKOO CLOCK SCAM. It’s a hoot. There are cuckoo clocks all over Bromersley. Angel sees them in all the crooks’ and villains’ houses, but he doesn’t know why. There should be copies in your library by the 30th. If there isn’t, smile sweetly at the lady and ask her if she’ll get one for you. She probably will, and she’ll probably smile back as well. Amazon have them in stock.
Barnsley library is very good to me. I remember going in there for a particular book, late last year. I couldn’t remember the title, the author or the publisher. The two ladies behind the counter looked at me with a blank expression. I felt a right Charlie. I told them the book was published in the 1920s or 1930s. I knew that. I told them a bit about the plot, and blow me! in about two minutes, they came up with the book I was after. It wasn’t on the shelves, but hidden away in the attic for some reason. Anyway, they stamped it, processed my other four books, and had me outside the library on Shambles Street, heading back to the car before I had time to say that I’d left my specs and a packet with two pieces of fresh haddock on a table in the reference room.
Anyway, now I’ve started writing another Angel book, I’d better get back to it.
Come back soon, for more ramblings from of an old writer.
It’s been accepted. My latest book THE SNUFF BOX MURDERS has been accepted by the publishers and should be out in 2010. Received the letter this morning. And they said some very complimentary things about it, too. But, you know me. I’m far too modest to repeat them. (Let it never be said that I blow my own trumpet). But I am absolutely thrilled, and as my kind readers in the US might say in similar circumstances, ‘It’s awesome.’
Do you know, I feel like going to the fridge and opening a new bottle of lemonade. But I won’t. It’s too cold. THE SNUFF BOX MURDERS will be the 16th Angel book, and my diary notes tell me I started writing it on Tuesday, February 17th that’s nearly 7 months … seems more like 7 years. Anyway, now I’ve started another Angel book. I have a hot plot cooking.
Don’t forget. I’ve a new book coming out on September 30th. It’s called THE CUCKOO CLOCK SCAM. It’s a hoot. There are cuckoo clocks all over Bromersley. Angel sees them in all the crooks’ and villains’ houses, but he doesn’t know why. There should be copies in your library by the 30th. If there isn’t, smile sweetly at the lady and ask her if she’ll get one for you. She probably will, and she’ll probably smile back as well. Amazon have them in stock.
Barnsley library is very good to me. I remember going in there for a particular book, late last year. I couldn’t remember the title, the author or the publisher. The two ladies behind the counter looked at me with a blank expression. I felt a right Charlie. I told them the book was published in the 1920s or 1930s. I knew that. I told them a bit about the plot, and blow me! in about two minutes, they came up with the book I was after. It wasn’t on the shelves, but hidden away in the attic for some reason. Anyway, they stamped it, processed my other four books, and had me outside the library on Shambles Street, heading back to the car before I had time to say that I’d left my specs and a packet with two pieces of fresh haddock on a table in the reference room.
Anyway, now I’ve started writing another Angel book, I’d better get back to it.
Come back soon, for more ramblings from of an old writer.
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.
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.
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