Caro Ramsay's Blog, page 5
November 3, 2013
Grantown on Spey dark deeds!!
Here's a post about my recent trip to the Grantown Crime fest that appeared in MIE this week. The wondrous Bill at the museum has sent me some great stuff in response to this so he will have his reply next week and reveal all about the gorilla! You have to read on now don't you...
Just below Inverness two feet to the right of the middle of nowhere is a place called Grantown on Spey. I was invited to appear at a inaugural book festival called Dark Deeds, Dark Nights. As Grantown sits in the Cairngorm National Park the drive up was pretty spectacular. The drive down was in the middle of a gale so we only saw the tail lights of the car in front.
Thanks to David Ross for picture
Here is Grantown on Spey in the rush hour....
It’s a marvellous wee place with a great sense of community. The residents know that if they don’t make things happen nothing ever would. Last year I did an event there “at the bookshop” one of the few bookshops mentioned on Tripadvisor. I seriously thought the audience would consist of me, a dog and some old bloke who had popped in out the rain as the Aviemore bus was late. I remember walking into the bookshop, which is slightly smaller than my linen cupboard and thinking that with me and the dog in the shop, there would be no room for the guy waiting for the Aviemore bus.
Here is the mighty atom (or Marjory as she was christened)
What a treasure trove.....
Look what we found.....
The event however took place in the local hotel where they have a special meet and greet room with comfy chairs, wine and Pringles. That room opens into a small informal lecture theatre with all kinds of fancy gizmos (laptops, laser pointers...stuff !!!). It functions to lecture coach parties of walkers/drinkers/ twitchers about the fantastic wildlife of the area and the local whisky trade… boy does this hotel specialise in whiskies. On the wall is a white board where the hotel residents mark what they have seen that day; wild cats, red squirrel, pine martens, the smaller crested goobly whatsit, the greater crested goobly whatsit. It is quite amusing to read, a bit like a foot ball result table. Red deer 2 - otters 0. Roe deer 4 - ospreys 2.
The roe deer /red deer play off could go either way.
There is a stuffed gorilla in the high street- that gets a few mentions on the sightings board as well.
That event was very well attended, sold a load of books and the dog in attendance was a guide dog called Bounty who sighed and broke wind all the way through my reading.
The Grant Arms Hotel. Whiskies galore.
This year the mighty atom, all four feet eight of her, decided to run her small crime festival. Dark Nights. No wonder she has been nominated for Book Shop Manager Of The Year. Two of the main authors called off at the last minute and one of the stand-ins did a fantastic talk on the highland whisky wars and just listening to that gave me plots for the next three books! And next week's blog! He did his talk in a top hat with a walking cane.
At my big event the blind lady turned up again and told me that Bounty had retired and here is a picture of her replacement.
He spent much of our talk lying on his back, wriggling with his legs in the air.
The mighty atom did well organising a big dinner on the Friday night where the authors had to swap tables.
Micheal, Alex and I, all clean and shiny.
There was an awful lot of wine....
A workshop with Michael Malone on the Saturday morning, where Aline Templeton and I went along to give moral support in case nobody turned up. Of course it was crowded and we caused a seating problem.
Michael preparing for his workshop
In the afternoon, I was on with Alex Gray and Aline again with lots of readings while trying not to be distracted by aforesaid paw pedalling.
In the evening the mighty atom had tried to have all the writers on stage at the same time but physical injury and an oncoming storm reduced us to five. The audience were well oiled by this time, most of them having been to every single event. I did start off that event by saying that we were happy to be 'buzzed for repetition'.
The hotel we stayed in was a fairly typical highland hotel trying to do its best in the economic downturn. Fabulous open fires, stag antlers, etc. I always like hotels where you get the sensation of either walking up or down hill as the floors are so uneven. The breakfast menu was magnificent, just reading it took about an hour and everything liberally dressed with smoked salmon.
The Grant Hotel
I did have an interesting chat with a gentleman who had something to do with the displays in the local museum. They had tried to mock up a crime scene. But because everybody was elsewhere there was nobody to open up the museum for the Friday or Saturday of the festival but I believe the four persons at the crime scene were as follows.1. A mannequin slapper in a black dress with long blonde hair. He told me this as I stood in front of him looking like a slapper! She had a noose round her neck, an empty bottle of whisky in her hand and an invisible stab wound somewhere. I said I would move her head to see if she had been strangled or if her neck had been broken. 'Oh,' he said, 'definitely broken. It's not actually her head.' It turns out she had no left arm either.2. The scene of crime officer was a child’s dummy in an over large CSI protection suit which gave her the appearance of a crew member of Apollo 13.3. Chief investigating officer was a police officer dressed circa (I’m guessing now 1920s, 30s when it was fashion to have long hair and a beard) although I understand that the police officer mannequin doubles as Santa during the Christmas period. Police Scotland had been less than helpful with updating a uniform for him.
4. The other gentleman present had borrowed the dead person’s left arm to hold his rifle dressed as a gamekeeper circa turn of the century … by that I mean early 1900s as I don’t think Grantown Museum has yet wandered into the 00s!
Aline, Myself and Michael
But the greatest things about the place are the clean air, the friendly locals and the total lack of mobile phone signal!! And quiet places like this to read....
Oh, in the end we decided that the lifesize statue of the gorilla in the High Street had something to do with the murder of the slapper in the museum. After a few drams anything is possible....
Caro Scotland 01/11/13
Just below Inverness two feet to the right of the middle of nowhere is a place called Grantown on Spey. I was invited to appear at a inaugural book festival called Dark Deeds, Dark Nights. As Grantown sits in the Cairngorm National Park the drive up was pretty spectacular. The drive down was in the middle of a gale so we only saw the tail lights of the car in front.
Thanks to David Ross for pictureHere is Grantown on Spey in the rush hour....
It’s a marvellous wee place with a great sense of community. The residents know that if they don’t make things happen nothing ever would. Last year I did an event there “at the bookshop” one of the few bookshops mentioned on Tripadvisor. I seriously thought the audience would consist of me, a dog and some old bloke who had popped in out the rain as the Aviemore bus was late. I remember walking into the bookshop, which is slightly smaller than my linen cupboard and thinking that with me and the dog in the shop, there would be no room for the guy waiting for the Aviemore bus.
Here is the mighty atom (or Marjory as she was christened)
What a treasure trove.....
Look what we found.....
The event however took place in the local hotel where they have a special meet and greet room with comfy chairs, wine and Pringles. That room opens into a small informal lecture theatre with all kinds of fancy gizmos (laptops, laser pointers...stuff !!!). It functions to lecture coach parties of walkers/drinkers/ twitchers about the fantastic wildlife of the area and the local whisky trade… boy does this hotel specialise in whiskies. On the wall is a white board where the hotel residents mark what they have seen that day; wild cats, red squirrel, pine martens, the smaller crested goobly whatsit, the greater crested goobly whatsit. It is quite amusing to read, a bit like a foot ball result table. Red deer 2 - otters 0. Roe deer 4 - ospreys 2.
The roe deer /red deer play off could go either way.
There is a stuffed gorilla in the high street- that gets a few mentions on the sightings board as well.
That event was very well attended, sold a load of books and the dog in attendance was a guide dog called Bounty who sighed and broke wind all the way through my reading.
The Grant Arms Hotel. Whiskies galore.
This year the mighty atom, all four feet eight of her, decided to run her small crime festival. Dark Nights. No wonder she has been nominated for Book Shop Manager Of The Year. Two of the main authors called off at the last minute and one of the stand-ins did a fantastic talk on the highland whisky wars and just listening to that gave me plots for the next three books! And next week's blog! He did his talk in a top hat with a walking cane.
At my big event the blind lady turned up again and told me that Bounty had retired and here is a picture of her replacement.
He spent much of our talk lying on his back, wriggling with his legs in the air. The mighty atom did well organising a big dinner on the Friday night where the authors had to swap tables.
Micheal, Alex and I, all clean and shiny.
There was an awful lot of wine....
A workshop with Michael Malone on the Saturday morning, where Aline Templeton and I went along to give moral support in case nobody turned up. Of course it was crowded and we caused a seating problem.
Michael preparing for his workshop
In the afternoon, I was on with Alex Gray and Aline again with lots of readings while trying not to be distracted by aforesaid paw pedalling.
In the evening the mighty atom had tried to have all the writers on stage at the same time but physical injury and an oncoming storm reduced us to five. The audience were well oiled by this time, most of them having been to every single event. I did start off that event by saying that we were happy to be 'buzzed for repetition'. The hotel we stayed in was a fairly typical highland hotel trying to do its best in the economic downturn. Fabulous open fires, stag antlers, etc. I always like hotels where you get the sensation of either walking up or down hill as the floors are so uneven. The breakfast menu was magnificent, just reading it took about an hour and everything liberally dressed with smoked salmon.
The Grant Hotel
I did have an interesting chat with a gentleman who had something to do with the displays in the local museum. They had tried to mock up a crime scene. But because everybody was elsewhere there was nobody to open up the museum for the Friday or Saturday of the festival but I believe the four persons at the crime scene were as follows.1. A mannequin slapper in a black dress with long blonde hair. He told me this as I stood in front of him looking like a slapper! She had a noose round her neck, an empty bottle of whisky in her hand and an invisible stab wound somewhere. I said I would move her head to see if she had been strangled or if her neck had been broken. 'Oh,' he said, 'definitely broken. It's not actually her head.' It turns out she had no left arm either.2. The scene of crime officer was a child’s dummy in an over large CSI protection suit which gave her the appearance of a crew member of Apollo 13.3. Chief investigating officer was a police officer dressed circa (I’m guessing now 1920s, 30s when it was fashion to have long hair and a beard) although I understand that the police officer mannequin doubles as Santa during the Christmas period. Police Scotland had been less than helpful with updating a uniform for him.
4. The other gentleman present had borrowed the dead person’s left arm to hold his rifle dressed as a gamekeeper circa turn of the century … by that I mean early 1900s as I don’t think Grantown Museum has yet wandered into the 00s!
Aline, Myself and Michael
But the greatest things about the place are the clean air, the friendly locals and the total lack of mobile phone signal!! And quiet places like this to read....
Oh, in the end we decided that the lifesize statue of the gorilla in the High Street had something to do with the murder of the slapper in the museum. After a few drams anything is possible....
Caro Scotland 01/11/13
October 24, 2013
Greyfriars Bobby
I really enjoyed writing this for the MIE blog spot, so thought you might like to share it.. especially Figbane the wonderdog....
A heinous crime was committed in Edinburgh in the first week of October this year, an assault on one of the world’s most courageous canines. The vile atrocity happened sometime between 1pm on Tuesday and 5pm on Wednesday. The police have appealed for witnesses. The area round the scene of the crime is well covered by CCTV and the police have examined hours of footage in a bid to track down the culprits.
The crime?Somebody made a dog’s nose shiny. With an abrasive scourer.Yip, that was on the news on the TV.
The ‘dog’ of course is the most photographed sculpture in Edinburgh, that of Greyfriars Bobby. The ‘nose’ had just been refurbed after being worn down to its underlying shiny brass by tourists rubbing it for good luck. The restoration work was carried out after a campaign on Facebook entitled “Stop People Rubbing Greyfriars Bobby’s Nose, it is not a Tradition”. The facebook campaign caught the ears, eyes and noses of those in high places and a repair was commissioned.
The monument is Edinburgh's smallest listed building. It was originally built as a drinking fountain with an upper bit for humans and a lower fountain for dogs. This had the water supply cut off (as did all Edinburgh's drinking fountains) around 1975 amidst health scares and both basins were filled with concrete.The statue has a colourful history. It was daubed with yellow paint on General Election night in 1979. It/he was hit by a car in 1984 and then some restoration became critical. It/he is always joining in with the cultural events of the day.
A plaque on the base reads "A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of Greyfriars Bobby". In 1858, this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Greyfriars Churchyard and lingered near the spot until his own death in 1872.
A red granite stone was erected on Bobby's grave by The Dog Aid Society of Scotland, and unveiled by the Duke of Gloucester on 13 May 1981. Since around 2000 this has been utilised in a shrine-like manner, with sticks for Bobby to fetch, dog toys, flowers etc. The monument itself reads: Greyfriars Bobby – Died 14th January 1872 – Aged 16 years – Let his loyalty and devotion be a lesson to us all.
But how much of that is true? Do we care, the sentiment itself is enough.Bobby was a Skye Terrier who spent (allegedly) 14 years guarding the grave of his owner, John Gray. Gray was a night watchman for the city police and died in February 1858.
I think this is what a Skye Terrier should look like.
14 years? (My dog is 16 years old and a fine and faithful hound. She’d not lie outside on a cold wintery night for anybody. I am kidding myself...she’d be off as soon as anybody offered her a sausage.)
There must be some truth in it though as in 1867, nine years after the owner passed away, the Lord Provost William Chambers paid for Bobby to have a licence as required by law and bought him a new collar, now in the Museum of Edinburgh. A year after the death of the dog, Lady Burdett-Coutts had the statue and fountain erected at the south end of George 4th Bridge.
The wee dog appears in many films and books, often changing breed like some mutant canine, sometimes to a Cairn Terrier, like this
a Westie.....
and sometimes in huge disguise as Lassie.
There is a Scottish joke here. When walking with a dog of uncertain pedigree it is often said… ‘Its father was a Cairn and its mother wisnae caring.’
Jan Bondeson wrote a book exploring the theory that the facts are wrong. In 19th-century Europe it was not uncommon to have 'graveyard dogs', or 'cemetery dogs'. These were stray dogs which were fed by visitors and curators to the point the dogs made the graveyards their home. This led to people coming to believe that the dogs were waiting by a grave, and the result being that the dog was looked after. This is another great example of dogs conditioning human behaviour to their own wily ends – usually a sausage.
I wonder how many doors could really have this plaque! I bet that dog was fed everywhere!
Bondeson claims that after an article about Bobby appeared in The Scotsman, visitation rates to the graveyard increased and that was financially lucrative for the local community. I don’t know about then, but the wee dog makes the city a fortune now. Bondeson also believes that in 1867 the original Bobby died and was replaced with a younger dog, and that this explains the longevity of Bobby. They pulled the same trick on Blue Peter with Petra.
The story becomes more believable with reports that folk fed Bobby, a few claimed ownership of him and no doubt he got sausages at more than one door by being wet, bedraggled and generally far too cute. This is now sounding more like dogs I know.
This is believed to be 'Bobby'. Who could resist giving him a sausage?
To confuse matters further, there is also more than one John Gray buried in the kirkyard. Social history has the dog belonging to both of them...
wrong type of dog? wrong grave?
As I have said, the dog and the story just captures the essence of what dogs are in our society. Bastions of faith and loyalty when the rest of the world is chasing a pound or celebrity or a twenty inch waist. Dogs just are. Bobby appears in many films but my favourite is the oblique reference to Bobby in the 1945 film, The Body Snatcher, where Boris Karloff has a wee wander through an Edinburgh graveyard looking for a tasty corpse to dig up, as you do in a quiet evening. He encounters a brave little dog defending a grave.Karloff kills it.Nice.By the way, the hunt for the culprits of the shiny nose incident goes on. They’ll be onto Interpol next.Suppose they could get the dog branch to have a sniff around.....Caro 25th Oct 2013
A heinous crime was committed in Edinburgh in the first week of October this year, an assault on one of the world’s most courageous canines. The vile atrocity happened sometime between 1pm on Tuesday and 5pm on Wednesday. The police have appealed for witnesses. The area round the scene of the crime is well covered by CCTV and the police have examined hours of footage in a bid to track down the culprits.
The crime?Somebody made a dog’s nose shiny. With an abrasive scourer.Yip, that was on the news on the TV.
The ‘dog’ of course is the most photographed sculpture in Edinburgh, that of Greyfriars Bobby. The ‘nose’ had just been refurbed after being worn down to its underlying shiny brass by tourists rubbing it for good luck. The restoration work was carried out after a campaign on Facebook entitled “Stop People Rubbing Greyfriars Bobby’s Nose, it is not a Tradition”. The facebook campaign caught the ears, eyes and noses of those in high places and a repair was commissioned.
The monument is Edinburgh's smallest listed building. It was originally built as a drinking fountain with an upper bit for humans and a lower fountain for dogs. This had the water supply cut off (as did all Edinburgh's drinking fountains) around 1975 amidst health scares and both basins were filled with concrete.The statue has a colourful history. It was daubed with yellow paint on General Election night in 1979. It/he was hit by a car in 1984 and then some restoration became critical. It/he is always joining in with the cultural events of the day.
A plaque on the base reads "A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of Greyfriars Bobby". In 1858, this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Greyfriars Churchyard and lingered near the spot until his own death in 1872.
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A red granite stone was erected on Bobby's grave by The Dog Aid Society of Scotland, and unveiled by the Duke of Gloucester on 13 May 1981. Since around 2000 this has been utilised in a shrine-like manner, with sticks for Bobby to fetch, dog toys, flowers etc. The monument itself reads: Greyfriars Bobby – Died 14th January 1872 – Aged 16 years – Let his loyalty and devotion be a lesson to us all.
.jpg)
But how much of that is true? Do we care, the sentiment itself is enough.Bobby was a Skye Terrier who spent (allegedly) 14 years guarding the grave of his owner, John Gray. Gray was a night watchman for the city police and died in February 1858.
I think this is what a Skye Terrier should look like.14 years? (My dog is 16 years old and a fine and faithful hound. She’d not lie outside on a cold wintery night for anybody. I am kidding myself...she’d be off as soon as anybody offered her a sausage.)
There must be some truth in it though as in 1867, nine years after the owner passed away, the Lord Provost William Chambers paid for Bobby to have a licence as required by law and bought him a new collar, now in the Museum of Edinburgh. A year after the death of the dog, Lady Burdett-Coutts had the statue and fountain erected at the south end of George 4th Bridge.
The wee dog appears in many films and books, often changing breed like some mutant canine, sometimes to a Cairn Terrier, like this
a Westie.....
and sometimes in huge disguise as Lassie.
There is a Scottish joke here. When walking with a dog of uncertain pedigree it is often said… ‘Its father was a Cairn and its mother wisnae caring.’Jan Bondeson wrote a book exploring the theory that the facts are wrong. In 19th-century Europe it was not uncommon to have 'graveyard dogs', or 'cemetery dogs'. These were stray dogs which were fed by visitors and curators to the point the dogs made the graveyards their home. This led to people coming to believe that the dogs were waiting by a grave, and the result being that the dog was looked after. This is another great example of dogs conditioning human behaviour to their own wily ends – usually a sausage.
I wonder how many doors could really have this plaque! I bet that dog was fed everywhere!Bondeson claims that after an article about Bobby appeared in The Scotsman, visitation rates to the graveyard increased and that was financially lucrative for the local community. I don’t know about then, but the wee dog makes the city a fortune now. Bondeson also believes that in 1867 the original Bobby died and was replaced with a younger dog, and that this explains the longevity of Bobby. They pulled the same trick on Blue Peter with Petra.
The story becomes more believable with reports that folk fed Bobby, a few claimed ownership of him and no doubt he got sausages at more than one door by being wet, bedraggled and generally far too cute. This is now sounding more like dogs I know.
This is believed to be 'Bobby'. Who could resist giving him a sausage?To confuse matters further, there is also more than one John Gray buried in the kirkyard. Social history has the dog belonging to both of them...
wrong type of dog? wrong grave?As I have said, the dog and the story just captures the essence of what dogs are in our society. Bastions of faith and loyalty when the rest of the world is chasing a pound or celebrity or a twenty inch waist. Dogs just are. Bobby appears in many films but my favourite is the oblique reference to Bobby in the 1945 film, The Body Snatcher, where Boris Karloff has a wee wander through an Edinburgh graveyard looking for a tasty corpse to dig up, as you do in a quiet evening. He encounters a brave little dog defending a grave.Karloff kills it.Nice.By the way, the hunt for the culprits of the shiny nose incident goes on. They’ll be onto Interpol next.Suppose they could get the dog branch to have a sniff around.....Caro 25th Oct 2013
October 9, 2013
A full moon or something
Yesterday I had a nice little event in Bearsden library. Lovely audience, good questions, great turnout. The preceding few hours were a bit fraught, starting off with the faithful PA who decided for some reason best known to herself to have excruciating toothache and had to be off work so the dentist could drill her root canal. She did say that work was preferable to that. But only just. It must have been a full moon or something, lots of people just doing and saying things that made me think I live in a parallel universe.
Great place to have an event
“Oh I wish my hair was as long as yours.”“So why not grow it then?”“It won’t grow that long.” “Why not?” “I keep getting it cut.”
Trust me, I'm a doctor...
OK then…. She must have been a friend of Mr “These exercises you gave me don’t work.”“Did you do them?”“No. And the painkillers the doc gave me are useless.”“Are you taking them?” “No.”“Why not?”“Because they don’t work.”“So have you tried them before?” “No.”“So how do you know they don’t work?” “Because my leg still hurts.” “But you are not taking them….” “Exactly!”
The last lady was telling me a story of her outrage when she went into a cafe at five past four to be told that they close at four… as it says on the sign. She was outraged and staged a sit in, so they gave her a coffee and then proceeded to mop the floor around her and put chairs up on the tables. She stayed there. Feeling uncomfortable but glad that she had made her point. Whatever that point was.
Then I was on the train to Glasgow central… just jumped on in time but the train was going nowhere as the ticket man was telling a blonde that the fare was four pounds twenty.“But I don’t have it.” “So why are you on the train then?”“Because I need to go to Glasgow” “But you need to pay to use the train so you need to give me the money.”“I’ll pay double next time.” “Do you know how often I hear that?” “Gonnae give me the money?” she asked the man sitting opposite.“Have a wee bit of faith,” he said to the ticket man.“I have plenty of faith, it’s a wee bit of cash I am after!”
I have a dirty hand, I need my handwashing scene now. It's in the contract.
But then I got home to watch Whitechapel, all flesh eating zombies and cops working in a station where health and safety have never, ever looked at the lecky. And the world suddenly made sense again.
Handsome dude wondering when he last paid the electricity bill
Caro
Great place to have an event
“Oh I wish my hair was as long as yours.”“So why not grow it then?”“It won’t grow that long.” “Why not?” “I keep getting it cut.”
Trust me, I'm a doctor...
OK then…. She must have been a friend of Mr “These exercises you gave me don’t work.”“Did you do them?”“No. And the painkillers the doc gave me are useless.”“Are you taking them?” “No.”“Why not?”“Because they don’t work.”“So have you tried them before?” “No.”“So how do you know they don’t work?” “Because my leg still hurts.” “But you are not taking them….” “Exactly!”
The last lady was telling me a story of her outrage when she went into a cafe at five past four to be told that they close at four… as it says on the sign. She was outraged and staged a sit in, so they gave her a coffee and then proceeded to mop the floor around her and put chairs up on the tables. She stayed there. Feeling uncomfortable but glad that she had made her point. Whatever that point was.Then I was on the train to Glasgow central… just jumped on in time but the train was going nowhere as the ticket man was telling a blonde that the fare was four pounds twenty.“But I don’t have it.” “So why are you on the train then?”“Because I need to go to Glasgow” “But you need to pay to use the train so you need to give me the money.”“I’ll pay double next time.” “Do you know how often I hear that?” “Gonnae give me the money?” she asked the man sitting opposite.“Have a wee bit of faith,” he said to the ticket man.“I have plenty of faith, it’s a wee bit of cash I am after!”
I have a dirty hand, I need my handwashing scene now. It's in the contract.But then I got home to watch Whitechapel, all flesh eating zombies and cops working in a station where health and safety have never, ever looked at the lecky. And the world suddenly made sense again.
Handsome dude wondering when he last paid the electricity billCaro
September 20, 2013
The killer cook book non cooking cook off!
Again, here is a copy of the MIE blog for this week, you can see that we have been busy...
Here’s a wee question for you. What is a cranachan?
Is it a) a very small house in a cold and rainy place
b) a wee fuzzy creature that lives at the bottom of the garden
c) a whisky based dessert
All will become unclear …
As you may know I edited the killer cookbook for the Million For a Morgue campaign. I was rather pleased when I got the programme for the Bloody Scotland Crimefest and saw that as well as my own event, there was the “Killer Cook Book Cook Off’ based on the TV programme "the Great British Bake Off". There was to be four crime writers cooking live (and it was to be filmed for TV) plus me running around with a mic. The hotel chef was going to do the Paul Hollywood bit ... (He’s the chef on the TV)
This is Paul Hollywood, I have no idea what the hotel chef looked like. He was keeping well clear.
What could go wrong?
Well, turns out the hotel changed hands and nobody checked with the new owners that they were OK with isolating the fire alarms for the event. And only told us on the Thursday evening ( the event was due on the Sunday ). The hotel cancelled it. With about 70 tickets sold. And only my name was on the tickets.
Mmmmm …
I don’t really know what happened next but the hotel seemed to go in the huff. The organisers tried to cancel the tickets and then that wee bit of Scotty recalcitrance came in ... the one thing you don’t say to me is health and safety …. For a morgue !!!!….
All week I had been doing press interviews and being photographed in my own kitchen (!!!!) saying ‘’ oh we are very much keeping it under wraps re who is appearing etc,” basically talking bull pooh.
So I got to work. I baked 70 flapjacks, had to buy booze for the two cocktails (not the Grey Goose Vodka, this was supermarket cheapo). Then buy all the ingredients, then go through the non cooking recipes and think about what we would need to make them, then serve them ... and … get them to Stirling. I live in Elderslie ( an hour away by motorway). Then there was the real health and safety issue of keeping food in hotel room for 48 hours … fresh cream… raspberries…..fromage frais ….salmonella etc.
In the end, we left some stuff in the car boot. Stuck some stuff in the freezer. Alan ran down the very steep hill to Marks and Spencer four times on the day to buy ‘more stuff’. And back up again laden with ‘couldn’t get that stuff but got the nearest I could get’ stuff. He’s used to running marathons so feel no sympathy. Wee cheapo shops were a great source of comedy bloody hands, plastic shot glasses, napkins, cocktail sticks ... and slowly a planned formed. I woke up in the middle of the night and told the dog that we would not be downhearted. We were going to do "can’t cook, won’t cook" but change it to "want to cook, not allowed to cook."Who needs Paul Hollywood when you have criminal minds!
Criminal masterminds armed, dangerous, ready to cause liver damage.
All Sunday we spent chopping and cutting and mixing, the salsa refused to defrost, the flapjacks tray was piled high, the cranachans kept eacaping etc. Five other authors had moments of insanity and because they are scared of me, ( I was wielding a large knife) offered to join in. 'Team bald’ Craig and Gordon (who has guest blogged for MIE) and ‘team blonde’ Alex, Lin and a Californian Scot called Catriona McPherson ( who was then flying out to Bouchercon!)So ... to set the scene… I walked on behind a table laden with cocktail shakers… this is then what happened …
I introduce team bald. They walk in to the tune The Stripper. Gordon is six feet four and was wearing a tall chef’s hat. He was wearing a pink diamante apron. Craig was wearing chef whites covered in fake blood. Well that is what we told the police. They both carried their trays aloft and swaggered. Team blonde came in, with a swagger, to the tune of ‘I’m too sexy for my apron...’
Mr Urqhart in action, see collie dog under Pat's arm
By the time I had introduced the girls, the boys were already on the way to making their cocktails. They had the bottles open. I’ve now seen the photos (at the time I was busy) and they are swigging the stuff behind my back, mm... the boys were supposed to be making the Margueritas donated for the book by the anthropologist’s husband. The anthropologist said later that she was surprised more of the audience didn’t end up in her morgue the way they were slinging the stuff about, forcing the audience to knock back shorts of almost neat tequila. Team blonde were more organised. One was dressing her homemade scones and the table with jam and squirty cream as her team mates went to town with Peter James’ writing martini. As it was made with four quid vodka not his forty quid vodka, it turned out more like nail varnish remover.
The olives went down well though.Two slaves from the audience walking through the crowds with trays of Martini, shots of Margueritas, (supercharged), Bloody Mary tomatoes,(more vodka but some vitamin C), 70 flapjacks, and some half frozen salsa that really did look as if it belonged in the morgue. Mr “Urquhart” was a haematologist and the other was a nice lady called Pat McCollie (see photo and giggle). I think the collie was donated to a nice wee kid in the audience who asked the only sensible question. Probably as the grownups were all puggled by then. Pat did a whip round and we got more than a hundred pounds for the charity as well.
The green T shirts are crew, muscling in on the event.
Then the boys started on their Ewert Gren’s sandwich donated by new MIE blogger Anders Rosland. Craig was starting to cut the ham with a whisk. Gordon’s wife had told me he was so hopeless in the kitchen that he couldn’t open a can of beans. I thought she was joking. She wasn’t. Catriona pointed out that the famous McSween haggis people had given her an award for making her own haggis as “there is no good haggis in California”. Lin was chastising folk in the audience for olive swilling… that might become yet another national sport.
Catriona persuading the audience to nibble some frozen salsa.
We then tried what I think might be a world record for cranachan assembly. I have looked back at the video. I had no idea that so many of the TV crew and the Bloody Scotland PR team had wandered into the event, and got on stage to lend a hand. Or get in the way. Or steal something to eat.We had 50 or 60 glasses on the front of the stage and we then tried to fill them all up with cranachan….to the tune of Benny Hill…… never spilled a drop. I hope you enjoy the unofficial photos.
Later Catriona was hiding in the loo and overheard somebody say the event was the highlight of the festival for her, she had seen Jo Nesbo but thought we were funnier! Someone came up to me in the car park and said they had never laughed so much in their life- was it all rehearsed…..( wit? ) It was a perfect highlight to a great weekend ... oh there was proper stuff like Lee Child, Val McDermid, Dr David Wilson and others, but none of them had a supporting cast of cranachan the way we did!The MIE bloggers have supported the campaign all the way through. Here is a video link to a spontaneous interview for the daily record you might like to see, that is a very sharp knife in my hand. Can you tell I’m making it all up as I go along?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jn-nSzSBOCg
Enjoy, Caro 20th September 2013
Here’s a wee question for you. What is a cranachan?
Is it a) a very small house in a cold and rainy place
b) a wee fuzzy creature that lives at the bottom of the garden
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c) a whisky based dessert.jpg)
All will become unclear …
As you may know I edited the killer cookbook for the Million For a Morgue campaign. I was rather pleased when I got the programme for the Bloody Scotland Crimefest and saw that as well as my own event, there was the “Killer Cook Book Cook Off’ based on the TV programme "the Great British Bake Off". There was to be four crime writers cooking live (and it was to be filmed for TV) plus me running around with a mic. The hotel chef was going to do the Paul Hollywood bit ... (He’s the chef on the TV)
This is Paul Hollywood, I have no idea what the hotel chef looked like. He was keeping well clear.What could go wrong?
Well, turns out the hotel changed hands and nobody checked with the new owners that they were OK with isolating the fire alarms for the event. And only told us on the Thursday evening ( the event was due on the Sunday ). The hotel cancelled it. With about 70 tickets sold. And only my name was on the tickets.
Mmmmm …
I don’t really know what happened next but the hotel seemed to go in the huff. The organisers tried to cancel the tickets and then that wee bit of Scotty recalcitrance came in ... the one thing you don’t say to me is health and safety …. For a morgue !!!!….
All week I had been doing press interviews and being photographed in my own kitchen (!!!!) saying ‘’ oh we are very much keeping it under wraps re who is appearing etc,” basically talking bull pooh.
So I got to work. I baked 70 flapjacks, had to buy booze for the two cocktails (not the Grey Goose Vodka, this was supermarket cheapo). Then buy all the ingredients, then go through the non cooking recipes and think about what we would need to make them, then serve them ... and … get them to Stirling. I live in Elderslie ( an hour away by motorway). Then there was the real health and safety issue of keeping food in hotel room for 48 hours … fresh cream… raspberries…..fromage frais ….salmonella etc.
In the end, we left some stuff in the car boot. Stuck some stuff in the freezer. Alan ran down the very steep hill to Marks and Spencer four times on the day to buy ‘more stuff’. And back up again laden with ‘couldn’t get that stuff but got the nearest I could get’ stuff. He’s used to running marathons so feel no sympathy. Wee cheapo shops were a great source of comedy bloody hands, plastic shot glasses, napkins, cocktail sticks ... and slowly a planned formed. I woke up in the middle of the night and told the dog that we would not be downhearted. We were going to do "can’t cook, won’t cook" but change it to "want to cook, not allowed to cook."Who needs Paul Hollywood when you have criminal minds!
Criminal masterminds armed, dangerous, ready to cause liver damage.All Sunday we spent chopping and cutting and mixing, the salsa refused to defrost, the flapjacks tray was piled high, the cranachans kept eacaping etc. Five other authors had moments of insanity and because they are scared of me, ( I was wielding a large knife) offered to join in. 'Team bald’ Craig and Gordon (who has guest blogged for MIE) and ‘team blonde’ Alex, Lin and a Californian Scot called Catriona McPherson ( who was then flying out to Bouchercon!)So ... to set the scene… I walked on behind a table laden with cocktail shakers… this is then what happened …
I introduce team bald. They walk in to the tune The Stripper. Gordon is six feet four and was wearing a tall chef’s hat. He was wearing a pink diamante apron. Craig was wearing chef whites covered in fake blood. Well that is what we told the police. They both carried their trays aloft and swaggered. Team blonde came in, with a swagger, to the tune of ‘I’m too sexy for my apron...’
Mr Urqhart in action, see collie dog under Pat's armBy the time I had introduced the girls, the boys were already on the way to making their cocktails. They had the bottles open. I’ve now seen the photos (at the time I was busy) and they are swigging the stuff behind my back, mm... the boys were supposed to be making the Margueritas donated for the book by the anthropologist’s husband. The anthropologist said later that she was surprised more of the audience didn’t end up in her morgue the way they were slinging the stuff about, forcing the audience to knock back shorts of almost neat tequila. Team blonde were more organised. One was dressing her homemade scones and the table with jam and squirty cream as her team mates went to town with Peter James’ writing martini. As it was made with four quid vodka not his forty quid vodka, it turned out more like nail varnish remover.
The olives went down well though.Two slaves from the audience walking through the crowds with trays of Martini, shots of Margueritas, (supercharged), Bloody Mary tomatoes,(more vodka but some vitamin C), 70 flapjacks, and some half frozen salsa that really did look as if it belonged in the morgue. Mr “Urquhart” was a haematologist and the other was a nice lady called Pat McCollie (see photo and giggle). I think the collie was donated to a nice wee kid in the audience who asked the only sensible question. Probably as the grownups were all puggled by then. Pat did a whip round and we got more than a hundred pounds for the charity as well.
The green T shirts are crew, muscling in on the event.Then the boys started on their Ewert Gren’s sandwich donated by new MIE blogger Anders Rosland. Craig was starting to cut the ham with a whisk. Gordon’s wife had told me he was so hopeless in the kitchen that he couldn’t open a can of beans. I thought she was joking. She wasn’t. Catriona pointed out that the famous McSween haggis people had given her an award for making her own haggis as “there is no good haggis in California”. Lin was chastising folk in the audience for olive swilling… that might become yet another national sport.
Catriona persuading the audience to nibble some frozen salsa.We then tried what I think might be a world record for cranachan assembly. I have looked back at the video. I had no idea that so many of the TV crew and the Bloody Scotland PR team had wandered into the event, and got on stage to lend a hand. Or get in the way. Or steal something to eat.We had 50 or 60 glasses on the front of the stage and we then tried to fill them all up with cranachan….to the tune of Benny Hill…… never spilled a drop. I hope you enjoy the unofficial photos.
Later Catriona was hiding in the loo and overheard somebody say the event was the highlight of the festival for her, she had seen Jo Nesbo but thought we were funnier! Someone came up to me in the car park and said they had never laughed so much in their life- was it all rehearsed…..( wit? ) It was a perfect highlight to a great weekend ... oh there was proper stuff like Lee Child, Val McDermid, Dr David Wilson and others, but none of them had a supporting cast of cranachan the way we did!The MIE bloggers have supported the campaign all the way through. Here is a video link to a spontaneous interview for the daily record you might like to see, that is a very sharp knife in my hand. Can you tell I’m making it all up as I go along?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jn-nSzSBOCg
Enjoy, Caro 20th September 2013
September 16, 2013
The delights of Lady Mondegreen
While I am recovering from the Great Killer Cook book non-cooking cooking event at Bloody Scotland, here is the last blog I did for Murder is Everywhere...it's all about Lady Mondegreens and the happenstance of hearing what you wish to hear.
“Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality”. Joseph Conrad.
But then reality can be over rated.
As a child, American writer Sylvia Wright used to like listening to her mother’s rendition of the Bonnie Earl of Murray from Thomas Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (1765). Sylvia was very fond of this poem which includes the following stanza:
“Ye highlands and ye lowlands,Oh, where hae you been?They hae slain the Earl of Murray,And laid him on the green.”
What Sylvia actually heard was one thing. Her brain translated the last two lines as
“they hae slain the Earl o Murrayand Lady Mondegreen.”
In Sylvia’s mind Lady Mondegreen was a tragic heroine, murdered alongside her husband by the clan Gordon in the late 1550s. It was only much later in life that Sylvia realised she had misheard the whole thing and her vivid imagination had done the rest. Sylvia then wrote an article in 1954 for Harpers magazine called “The death of Lady Mondegreen” and so the term ‘Mondegreen’ was born. The definition of a Mondegreen is “the mishearing of a phrase in such a way that it is commonly understood to have an alternative meaning.” They appear all over the place in. In literature? Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland. The master was an old turtle but called tortoise because he taught us. That doesn’t work at all in a Scottish accent but never mind. The film Life Of Brian, Monty Python Sermon on the Mount scene;‘blessed are the cheese makers.’‘What’s so special about the cheese makers?’‘Well it’s obviously not meant to be taken literally. It refers to any manufacturers of dairy products.’
And some have moved into popular culture:Ted Striker: ‘Surely you can’t be serious!’Dr Rumack: ‘I am serious and don’t call me Shirley!’
There is a famous Scottish legal one which was reproduced in the letters page of the times. It’s from a Scottish solicitor and notary public, who received a letter addressed to a Scottish ‘solicitor and not a republic.’
My Aussie friend tells me that their national anthem, (written in the late 1800’s but only became the national song in 1984) is actually ‘Australians all let us rejoice, for we are young and free.’ It is commonly and mischievously sung as ‘Australians all own ostriches, four minus one is three.’
My own Mondegreen is that famous line from Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody; “Spare him his life from these warm sausages” . I think Freddie actually wrote something about ‘these monstrosities.’ My pal has heard that sung as ‘Spare him his life for a warm cup of tea.’
Madonna is a Mondegreen treasure trove. La Isla Bonita. ‘“Young girl with eyes like potatoes.” Eyes like the desert I believe. “Last night I dreamt of some bagels.” Dreamt of San Pedro? I am a material girl can be heard as ‘I am a cereal girl’. And what about ‘Holiday. Celebrate!’ being Mondegreened as ‘Hollandaise. Salivate!’ I think that’s an improvement.
Like many children I did think the Lord’s prayer went “Harold be thy name, thy kingdom come.” Until I was old enough to be able to read it.My gran, slightly hard of hearing used to sing along to that great Donna Summer disco classic. ‘I’ve been mugged’….. I feel love.
The most famous Mondegreen of all is Desmond Dekker’s ‘The Israelites’ often heard as ‘Oh my ears are alight.’ Painful but amusing.
More songs that should have been written. ‘Like a bridge over trouble, Walter,’ by Simon and Garfunkel. ‘I can see clearly now Lorraine has gone,’ by Jimmy Cliff. One wonders if Lorraine was very overweight or just never cleaned the windows. ‘Strawberry fields for Trevor.’ Enough said. And what about that country classic, ‘He’s a vile stoned cowboy?’ And poor Eva Peron. ‘Don’t cry for me, I’m the cleaner… ‘
Famous Abba Mondegreens? Chiquitita, tell me what’s wrong? Chicken tikka, tell me what’s wrong Kick yer teeth in, tell me what’s wrong.
The Rev Sabine Bearing- Gould wrote Onward Christian Soldiers in 15 minutes at some point in 1864 and freely admitted that some of the rhymes don’t really scan. But he might still object to the Mondegreen ‘Onward Christian’s soldiers, march your ass to war.’
Medical Mondegreens are common place, probably due to the unusual terminology and the brain attempting to hone in on something more recognisable.It’s the Heimlich manoeuvre – not the Heimlich remover. There was the man with the ‘baloney amputation’. Below knee amputation I might suggest. A letter in a medical journal told of a hospital department regulated by ‘ Sir Michael Spears.’ The letter should have referred to ‘cervical smears’. And fibroids of the uterus used to be ‘fireballs of the uterus’, now called firewalls of the uterus.
But then again, ‘the first noel, the angel did say, was to surgeons and shepherds in fields as they lay.’I did have a patient who was both confused and trying to be helpful, she couldn’t remember the big long name but she was on ‘Anti bi ollocks.’
When I was very wee, my reader at school was ‘New worlds to Conquer.’ It was full of stories of Thor Heyerdahl. Fab. Then I found the story about the man himself when he was at the BBC and they arranged for a car to take him to the airport. Cars came and went, but none for him. One car whoever waited a long time. Then the driver was asked who he was going to pick up. ‘Dogs,’ he said. ‘I’m here for four Airedales.’
If you listen hard to Stevie Winwood ‘Bring me a higher love.’ He is actually singing ‘Bring me an iron lung.’
There was another reported by letter in The Times. A medical secretary typed ‘jockstrap position’. The phrase that had been dictated was of course ‘juxtaposition’. But food for thought.
The disease cystic fibrosis has the well-known euphamisim /Mondegreen ‘sixty five roses.’
And while we are on bodily parts. Adam Ant? Stand and Deliver? Stan it’s my liver.
And what about these books that should have been written. Donkey hote. Danger mouse liaisons. Catch one in the eye.
I think the one that might appeal most to the MIE bloggers comes from the author Monica Dickens. In 1964 she was at a book signing and a lady handed her a book. The woman said, as the author opened the page ready to sign, Emma Chisit. Monica signed the book, to Emma Chisitas she realised the woman had actually said, How much is it?
Caro
“Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality”. Joseph Conrad.
But then reality can be over rated.
As a child, American writer Sylvia Wright used to like listening to her mother’s rendition of the Bonnie Earl of Murray from Thomas Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (1765). Sylvia was very fond of this poem which includes the following stanza:
“Ye highlands and ye lowlands,Oh, where hae you been?They hae slain the Earl of Murray,And laid him on the green.”
What Sylvia actually heard was one thing. Her brain translated the last two lines as
“they hae slain the Earl o Murrayand Lady Mondegreen.”
In Sylvia’s mind Lady Mondegreen was a tragic heroine, murdered alongside her husband by the clan Gordon in the late 1550s. It was only much later in life that Sylvia realised she had misheard the whole thing and her vivid imagination had done the rest. Sylvia then wrote an article in 1954 for Harpers magazine called “The death of Lady Mondegreen” and so the term ‘Mondegreen’ was born. The definition of a Mondegreen is “the mishearing of a phrase in such a way that it is commonly understood to have an alternative meaning.” They appear all over the place in. In literature? Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland. The master was an old turtle but called tortoise because he taught us. That doesn’t work at all in a Scottish accent but never mind. The film Life Of Brian, Monty Python Sermon on the Mount scene;‘blessed are the cheese makers.’‘What’s so special about the cheese makers?’‘Well it’s obviously not meant to be taken literally. It refers to any manufacturers of dairy products.’
And some have moved into popular culture:Ted Striker: ‘Surely you can’t be serious!’Dr Rumack: ‘I am serious and don’t call me Shirley!’
There is a famous Scottish legal one which was reproduced in the letters page of the times. It’s from a Scottish solicitor and notary public, who received a letter addressed to a Scottish ‘solicitor and not a republic.’
My Aussie friend tells me that their national anthem, (written in the late 1800’s but only became the national song in 1984) is actually ‘Australians all let us rejoice, for we are young and free.’ It is commonly and mischievously sung as ‘Australians all own ostriches, four minus one is three.’
My own Mondegreen is that famous line from Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody; “Spare him his life from these warm sausages” . I think Freddie actually wrote something about ‘these monstrosities.’ My pal has heard that sung as ‘Spare him his life for a warm cup of tea.’
Madonna is a Mondegreen treasure trove. La Isla Bonita. ‘“Young girl with eyes like potatoes.” Eyes like the desert I believe. “Last night I dreamt of some bagels.” Dreamt of San Pedro? I am a material girl can be heard as ‘I am a cereal girl’. And what about ‘Holiday. Celebrate!’ being Mondegreened as ‘Hollandaise. Salivate!’ I think that’s an improvement.
Like many children I did think the Lord’s prayer went “Harold be thy name, thy kingdom come.” Until I was old enough to be able to read it.My gran, slightly hard of hearing used to sing along to that great Donna Summer disco classic. ‘I’ve been mugged’….. I feel love.
The most famous Mondegreen of all is Desmond Dekker’s ‘The Israelites’ often heard as ‘Oh my ears are alight.’ Painful but amusing.
More songs that should have been written. ‘Like a bridge over trouble, Walter,’ by Simon and Garfunkel. ‘I can see clearly now Lorraine has gone,’ by Jimmy Cliff. One wonders if Lorraine was very overweight or just never cleaned the windows. ‘Strawberry fields for Trevor.’ Enough said. And what about that country classic, ‘He’s a vile stoned cowboy?’ And poor Eva Peron. ‘Don’t cry for me, I’m the cleaner… ‘
Famous Abba Mondegreens? Chiquitita, tell me what’s wrong? Chicken tikka, tell me what’s wrong Kick yer teeth in, tell me what’s wrong.
The Rev Sabine Bearing- Gould wrote Onward Christian Soldiers in 15 minutes at some point in 1864 and freely admitted that some of the rhymes don’t really scan. But he might still object to the Mondegreen ‘Onward Christian’s soldiers, march your ass to war.’
Medical Mondegreens are common place, probably due to the unusual terminology and the brain attempting to hone in on something more recognisable.It’s the Heimlich manoeuvre – not the Heimlich remover. There was the man with the ‘baloney amputation’. Below knee amputation I might suggest. A letter in a medical journal told of a hospital department regulated by ‘ Sir Michael Spears.’ The letter should have referred to ‘cervical smears’. And fibroids of the uterus used to be ‘fireballs of the uterus’, now called firewalls of the uterus.
But then again, ‘the first noel, the angel did say, was to surgeons and shepherds in fields as they lay.’I did have a patient who was both confused and trying to be helpful, she couldn’t remember the big long name but she was on ‘Anti bi ollocks.’
When I was very wee, my reader at school was ‘New worlds to Conquer.’ It was full of stories of Thor Heyerdahl. Fab. Then I found the story about the man himself when he was at the BBC and they arranged for a car to take him to the airport. Cars came and went, but none for him. One car whoever waited a long time. Then the driver was asked who he was going to pick up. ‘Dogs,’ he said. ‘I’m here for four Airedales.’
If you listen hard to Stevie Winwood ‘Bring me a higher love.’ He is actually singing ‘Bring me an iron lung.’
There was another reported by letter in The Times. A medical secretary typed ‘jockstrap position’. The phrase that had been dictated was of course ‘juxtaposition’. But food for thought.
The disease cystic fibrosis has the well-known euphamisim /Mondegreen ‘sixty five roses.’
And while we are on bodily parts. Adam Ant? Stand and Deliver? Stan it’s my liver.
And what about these books that should have been written. Donkey hote. Danger mouse liaisons. Catch one in the eye.
I think the one that might appeal most to the MIE bloggers comes from the author Monica Dickens. In 1964 she was at a book signing and a lady handed her a book. The woman said, as the author opened the page ready to sign, Emma Chisit. Monica signed the book, to Emma Chisitas she realised the woman had actually said, How much is it?
Caro
August 23, 2013
Ye Cannae Whack it!
A few weeks ago there was a street fair in Glasgow.
As we milled around we saw a puppeteer complete with his marionette. The wee puppet was dancing, moonwalking, breakdancing, highland dancing, Irish dancing and generally doing stuff that is really clever when you consider the risk of entanglement. He (the marionette, I think it was a ‘he’ but he was anatomically ambiguous) started to engage a wee girl in the audience. She was about three years old. They did a wee dance, had a wee bit of to and fro. The puppet pretended to chase her. She pretended to be scared and ran behind her buggy. The marionette then stalked the buggy, pausing every so often for comedic effect, his finger to his mouth- warning to audience to be quiet. As he advanced towards the buggy, the girl peeked out from behind it, more thrilled than scared. She hid again, the marionette advanced further. Then made a dash for it, neatly hopped into the buggy and sat there, rather pleased with himself, legs crossed, looking smug.
Then the wee lassie came out punched him right in the kisser.There was a round of applause from the audience.Somehow if that had happened in LA, I just know it would have ended differently. The wee lassie would have been sent for counselling or incarceration. The marionette would have sued her, her parents and the makers of the buggy. The parents would have countersued for emotional trauma to their daughter. The marionette would then have sued the puppeteer for pulling his strings… where would it end.
Simple, when in Glasgow, don’t nick anybody chips, don’t drink their Irn Bru and most of all, don’t sit in anyone’s buggy without asking permission first.
Simples.Caro
As we milled around we saw a puppeteer complete with his marionette. The wee puppet was dancing, moonwalking, breakdancing, highland dancing, Irish dancing and generally doing stuff that is really clever when you consider the risk of entanglement. He (the marionette, I think it was a ‘he’ but he was anatomically ambiguous) started to engage a wee girl in the audience. She was about three years old. They did a wee dance, had a wee bit of to and fro. The puppet pretended to chase her. She pretended to be scared and ran behind her buggy. The marionette then stalked the buggy, pausing every so often for comedic effect, his finger to his mouth- warning to audience to be quiet. As he advanced towards the buggy, the girl peeked out from behind it, more thrilled than scared. She hid again, the marionette advanced further. Then made a dash for it, neatly hopped into the buggy and sat there, rather pleased with himself, legs crossed, looking smug.
Then the wee lassie came out punched him right in the kisser.There was a round of applause from the audience.Somehow if that had happened in LA, I just know it would have ended differently. The wee lassie would have been sent for counselling or incarceration. The marionette would have sued her, her parents and the makers of the buggy. The parents would have countersued for emotional trauma to their daughter. The marionette would then have sued the puppeteer for pulling his strings… where would it end.
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Simple, when in Glasgow, don’t nick anybody chips, don’t drink their Irn Bru and most of all, don’t sit in anyone’s buggy without asking permission first.Simples.Caro
August 14, 2013
the book trust pod cast!
Those nice folk at the Book Trust have been in touch again, trying to promote their podcasts and asking the authors who have been recorded to blog of their experience. I was ahead of the game there! I have already blogged about my experiences in the cupboard with the wonderful Mr Von Winkle. No I didn’t make up that name – he is actually called that.
I’ve included the link to my podcast – The intro to Blood Of Crows – don’t listen to it while you are eating. I’m planning to dip in and out the podcast site over the next few days, listening to a bit here and there- great while doing the ironing.
Here is an excerpt of the blog I wrote for the MIE website.
Sometimes life is a bit strange as a crime writer, this thought was sifting through my mind as I sat in a cold cupboard, lit by a single bulb with a beardy weirdy American by the name of Ryan Von Winkle. He was holding a dead hamster to my mouth and asking me about dried ice cream. All that is perfectly true, the hamster being the sound recording type.
Frequently a wind-dampening cover called a mic-blimp is used to enclose the microphone. A mic-blimp covered with sound-absorbing fuzzy fabric is usually nicknamed a wind muff or a "dead cat." So I am told.
It was all for a podcast at the Mitchell Library which was old and stuffy but now is all whistles, bells and technical stuff with silent carrels where students can play the piano and sing to their hearts content with no noise pollution to the carrel next door.
So we got up to some serial killing talk in our sound proofed booth. Mr Von Winkle was very nice but had made the mistake of thinking that I was. When I started reading the start of The Blood of Crows, I saw his eyes shift, looking for the door, making sure the key was in the lock. This was a scared man.
But funnily enough, he had one of those voices like melting chocolate. He carried a small brown case that you could tell had travelled round the world with him and bore the scars of nearly missed trains, every quick visit to the loo after eating something inedible and indigestible.
I was talking about Murder Is Everywhere and my writers group. He was telling about his friend wanting to be an astronaut and climbing a ladder 30 000 times as by then he had shown that he could get to the moon. Ryan was then telling me about Nassau ice cream... dry ice cream. Gone too far. A man on the moon I will accept. Folk on Big Brother have an IQ in double figures I can just about accept. But dry ice cream is the end of civilisation as we know it!!
Caro
I’ve included the link to my podcast – The intro to Blood Of Crows – don’t listen to it while you are eating. I’m planning to dip in and out the podcast site over the next few days, listening to a bit here and there- great while doing the ironing.
Here is an excerpt of the blog I wrote for the MIE website.
Sometimes life is a bit strange as a crime writer, this thought was sifting through my mind as I sat in a cold cupboard, lit by a single bulb with a beardy weirdy American by the name of Ryan Von Winkle. He was holding a dead hamster to my mouth and asking me about dried ice cream. All that is perfectly true, the hamster being the sound recording type.
Frequently a wind-dampening cover called a mic-blimp is used to enclose the microphone. A mic-blimp covered with sound-absorbing fuzzy fabric is usually nicknamed a wind muff or a "dead cat." So I am told.
It was all for a podcast at the Mitchell Library which was old and stuffy but now is all whistles, bells and technical stuff with silent carrels where students can play the piano and sing to their hearts content with no noise pollution to the carrel next door.
So we got up to some serial killing talk in our sound proofed booth. Mr Von Winkle was very nice but had made the mistake of thinking that I was. When I started reading the start of The Blood of Crows, I saw his eyes shift, looking for the door, making sure the key was in the lock. This was a scared man.
But funnily enough, he had one of those voices like melting chocolate. He carried a small brown case that you could tell had travelled round the world with him and bore the scars of nearly missed trains, every quick visit to the loo after eating something inedible and indigestible.
I was talking about Murder Is Everywhere and my writers group. He was telling about his friend wanting to be an astronaut and climbing a ladder 30 000 times as by then he had shown that he could get to the moon. Ryan was then telling me about Nassau ice cream... dry ice cream. Gone too far. A man on the moon I will accept. Folk on Big Brother have an IQ in double figures I can just about accept. But dry ice cream is the end of civilisation as we know it!!
Caro
August 4, 2013
A good night out!
honestly, with friends like this!!anyway this should be a good night at Waterstones, come along if you can....
Hi Caro,Michael J. tagged you in a post.
Michael J. wrote: "If you're anywhere near Glasgow city centre this coming Wednesday (7th Aug) I'm doing an event in Waterstones, Sauchiehall Street with the fragrant Ms Caro Ramsay and the equally smelly Craig Robertson andFrank Muir. Kick off at 6pm.
Why don't you pop in?
http://www.list.co.uk/place/425-waterstones/"
Hi Caro,Michael J. tagged you in a post.
Michael J. wrote: "If you're anywhere near Glasgow city centre this coming Wednesday (7th Aug) I'm doing an event in Waterstones, Sauchiehall Street with the fragrant Ms Caro Ramsay and the equally smelly Craig Robertson andFrank Muir. Kick off at 6pm.
Why don't you pop in?
http://www.list.co.uk/place/425-waterstones/"
July 18, 2013
Just a wee blog that I have shamelessly stolen from my ma...
Just a wee blog that I have shamelessly stolen from my mate Stan. He is the Stan of Stanley Trollip who is the Stanley of Michael Stanley... did you follow that? All you really need to know is that he is 50% of a number one best selling crime writing duo- the creators of the Detective Kubu novels. Funnily enough I was talking to a gem cutting expert - no doubt there is a proper name for such an occupation- this man is sometimes called in by De Beers in South Africa to advise them on how to cut a certain stone. He travels the world lecturing, consulting, going down holes in the ground and analyzing what he finds there. Or more often looking down a microscope and devaluing what he finds there! He is a huge Kubu fan - saying that the writers really capture what life is like in Botswana.
So here is what Stanley has to say this week on the blog site. You can click on the link and leave your comments- it will be interesting to see what people say so feel free to join in, even if you are not a follower of MIE.....
The MURDER IS EVERYWHERE blog has been appearing for nearly four years. There have been 1253 blogs, including this one, and about 1,200,000 page views. The blog now enjoys over 30,000 page views a month.
For this, we all thank you, the readers.
Maintaining a blog for this long is hard work, but we all enjoy it very much, although there are times when we cuss the blog deadline because of other life events.
Now we think it is time to ask you to tell us what you think. Please take a few minutes and give us some feedback.
http://murderiseverywhere.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/we-would-like-your-feedback.html#comment-form
I blog on Fridays, tomorrow I am talking about Jimmy Page, Aleister Crowley and the scary goings on at Boleskin house. But maybe not in that order!
Sneak a peek at the MIE website... but be warned, it's habit forming.
Caro
July 2, 2013
Craig Robertson- The black pudding man!
Craig contemplating black puddingJust come back from a great book launch. Wine AND beer! Craig Robertson’s launching his latest book........
The new bookCraig is a black pudding fetishist! He is the black pudding from human blood guy in The Killer Cookbook. Nice bloke, always knows your name, always says hello... even when so drunk he’s hanging off his bar stool and can barely focus.He was joined at the launch, in a channel four chat show kind of way, by an ex detective - a man who when he says "I have been everywhere, seen it, done it, arrested it", you can probably believe him because he probably has. He was there with his book Crimestoppers, being one of the cops in charge of that initiative.So he and Craig had a bit of a chat back and forth. I did ask Bryan if he read any crime fiction, but he said no, it would be like a hairdresser reading a book about hair dressers!
Bryan looking like Regan's driver in the Sweeney!My pal is a cop. She likes reading my stuff, acknowledging that there are untruths that the reader has to buy into to make the plot work- cops never go off duty, never go to the toilet and they always have plenty of staff unless it suits the plot to be short staffed of course. However my pal says that the internecine fighting, the gossip and the rivalry are exactly right... but then people are people, offices are offices no matter what the job. Somebody makes the tea, somebody eats somebody else's Hon Nobs and only one person can ever persuade the photocopier to work. Craig’s book has two parallel plots, one set in the present day... with a killer similar to but not Bible John, and another plot running back in 1972, again a killer similar to but not Bible John.If you have read my Murder is Everywhere blog about Bible John and Peter Tobin, you can read the arguments for and against.
But I think they both (Craig and Bryan, not Bible John and Peter Tobin!) made it subtly clear... if something can be subtly clear- that neither of them thought Bible John had been caught yet and they doubted that he ever would.
I asked them, having seen what they have seen, Brian as a very senior detective, Craig as an award winning journalist, if they would bring back the death penalty. Brian said yes in some cases. Craig said never... maybe more life incarceration but not the death penalty. My blog this week on Murder is Everywhere on Friday is about Ian Brady and while, deep inside, I am opposed to the death penalty I think I might make an exception for him. The chit chat after the launch was in a similar vein, even those opposed to capital punishment just have a wee minute's pause to reflect when Brady is mentioned.Interesting.
I think the death penalty should be reintroduced for mothers in law who nick your crime books before you have the chance to read them and they get passed round Auntie Betty and all her mates at the knitting bee and the bowling club before you get it back..... I mean what can you do! To quote Billy Connolly hanging is too good for them - its a damn good kick up the arse they need! These are three books that have gone from my book case.....
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Caro
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