Tim Parr's Blog

Last rites for a very special bird killer

It was a miserable deed but it had to be done. Yesterday morning, I dug a grave for my old feline friend.

Fred was a ginger cat, one of a litter of eight adorable little bird-killers that we first met when they were only a few days old. We had booked a night in a bed and breakfast on the way back from a buckets and spades holiday in Cornwall. The room was under a thatched roof in a working farm in beautiful Tarka the Otter countryside in north Devon. Drawn by the smell of frying bacon, the famil...

Toxic Tea and the Magic Potion

The clever scientists don’t get enough praise. Between them, the boffins have concocted a magic potion that is even more extraordinary than the one that bubbled away in a cauldron stirred by Getafix the Druid. The one that helped a little corner of ancient Gaul fight off the Roman invasion by bestowing super-human strength on those who drank it. Or in Obelix’s case, fell into it as a baby.

As a result of today’s brilliant minds, my ten days of self isolation with cold-like symptoms were really n...

Splat the Rat

Last Friday I had a brief meeting with a business contact over coffee and afterwards we returned to our cars.  His vehicle was parked alongside my own in a small car park at the back of a Tandoori restaurant as it prepared for its lunchtime trade, the spicy cooking smells teasing the nostrils.

“It’s a good neighbourhood, lovely restaurants,” I said.  “Hey, maybe we have a bite to eat next time?”

“You can count on it!”

We exchanged a friendly fist-bump farewell. The knuckle-knock has become a com...

How to Dispose of a Body

It arrived unceremoniously, lifted up and over the hedge with an articulated grabber arm that was operated from the driver’s cab of the flat-bed delivery lorry parked on the roadside. The engine roared at the strain. The loading platform of the vehicle rocked back and forth but on the second attempt the swinging load landed gently on the gravel driveway. The ton bag of topsoil now sat inside the gate. The prehensile arm folded back into the lorry like the skeletal wing of a pterodactyl. The driv...

When Two’s a Crowd

I was on a weekend away in the Cotswolds with old school friends recently. A medieval sarcophagus was standing outside the porch entrance to an ancient abbey, lid off invitingly in the late afternoon sun. Normally I would exercise solemn respect and walk on by. But on that day none of us were on our best behaviours and egged on by friends, I climbed in.

I stretched out at the base of the coffin in my best entombed knight pose, wrists crossed over my chest and closed my eyes. It was remarkably co...

Gritty Crime: The Pot Thickens

I am just getting this crime off my chest.
At the weekend I made a winter soup on an industrial scale from the home-grown vegetables in the raised bed. I had pulled up the crop of parsnips, carrots and leeks and meticulously cleaned them before chopping and dropping them into an industrial-sized pan of vegetable stock steaming away on the hob with the last of the bulbs of garlic. All good so far.
Then I remembered a couple of remaining lines of something green-leafed in the veggie plot. It was n...

Breakneck Speed

I like writing late into the night when the house is quiet. The early hours are conducive to getting into that brooding frame of mind. The witching hours when book characters step out from the shadows, without having to go searching for them. Let’s face it, it is hard to write about the dead of night and blood-curdling screams while downing a lunchtime cheese and pickle sandwich between emails.

Thinking about it, I am creatively ineffective before coffee time. And after lunch. And after...

Bashful Algorithms

It is not very British to blow one’s own trumpet.  Please permit me a quick parp. Below The Strandline has received a four star independent review from Reedsy’s review panel. They said: “An impressive debut that leaves the reader wanting more. Perfect for murder-mystery fans.”  Here’s a link to the full review and an upvote button

The world in 2021 revolves around algorithms. I understand that Reedsy Discovery will give my book more prominence if lots of kind people upvote it, using the Upvote b...

Muskets and Daggers

An old chum rang me this morning while I was out on a windy walk before work. I haven’t seen him for a couple of years and it was good to catch up. It was like old times. He was always hugely entertaining when we met up, holed up in a cozy pub over a couple of pints of best.
My side of the phone call was hampered by a squally wind that kept ripping off the hood of my coat that I’d put up against the rain. We persevered and I was so engrossed in conversation that I nearly dropped my phone in...

Exposé: The Doughnut Trade

I am working from home today. Not the book marketing this time which is riddled with crime and conspiracy, but my proper job which, well, isn’t. You know, the one that simply earns an honest wage. But then again, my book does pay for little extras like cake. And good coffee. Take my local shop. There is a happy symbiosis between me and my local store. The shopkeeper displays a tidy skyscraper of pristine signed copies of Below The Strandline balanced high on an attractive wooden stand in her...