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2014 Proms - so much to love
Jul. 25th, 2014 03:41 pmHaven't yet heard the Pet Shop Boys Alan Turing tribute but if it's as good as the Sports themed prom it'll be great.
Jul. 25th, 2014
Newsletter one hundred and eight
Jul. 25th, 2014 04:47 pmPenzance was super – I’d forgotten how gorgeous Cornwall is when the weather’s good – and while we went on the slow train down to St Ives, life has been express paced since then, not least because of two new releases!
News
Sand, from the MLR At the Museum series, is out today.
“Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand.”
Andrew Parks has come to Syria to escape potential disgrace in Edwardian England, burying past heartache and scandal among the tombs. Charles Cusiter has travelled here more reluctantly, as chaperone to a friend whose fondness for the opposite sex gets him into too much trouble at home. Out in the desert there aren’t any women to turn Bernard’s head – just the ubiquitous sand.
The desert works its magic on Charles, softening his heart. Not even a potentially fatal scorpion sting can overcome the power this strange land exerts.
Excerpt:
Andrew Parks-he insisted we called him Andrew-was as much of a surprise as his camp had been. Small, neat, as brown as a berry under a thatch of blond hair, piercing sea-grey eyes and an intelligent smile. Perhaps I should add he was possibly the most handsome man I'd ever met, but I tried not to let that show as the three of us exchanged pleasantries and discussed the latest news from the Mottram household, Andrew's mother having been an old friend of Mrs Mottram.
The parochial chit-chat allowed me to sink into the background and try to get my thoughts together. Andrew was the sort of chap who got right under my skin. Or, more accurately, right below my waistline. I didn't share Bernard's enthusiasm for girls, but where a man like Andrew was concerned.
"Why did you come here?" Bernard's question cut into my thoughts.
"Client kings. I studied them for my doctorate. Came out here and couldn't wait to get back." I could tell there was more to the story, but Andrew wasn't forthcoming.
Odd.
"I'm sorry we didn't think to bring the newspapers from home," I said, feeling I had to say something, and uncomfortable at the thought of having disappointed him.
"Not to worry," Andrew replied, a touch too airily. "Ah, Yaseem. Time to eat?"
He led us out to a canopy under the stars, something which looked like it should have come from a cinematic set. Faux desert rather than real. Andrew looked at me, with a smile and a shrug, as if to say, "See what I have to do to amuse my guests?" I could only shrug in return, tongue-tied.
When at last I could trust myself to speak, all I managed to ask was, "Do you miss home?"
"Of course I do. Although when I smell the air in this country, it makes England seem stale." Andrew spread his hands, eloquently. "I'll go back one day, when the time is right."
"To choose the right time in life shows true wisdom." I'd rarely done so, myself.
Andrew smiled. "That sounds like the sort of adage Yaseem saves for visitors. They lap them up."
"I didn't mean it as a platitude."
"Of course not." He looked concerned at having risked causing offence. "He's very wise, Yaseem. People don't always appreciate his skills, probably because of the colour of his skin."
I remembered, with a shudder, my father's scathing remarks about those with "a touch of the tar brush" about them. It was one of many things we disagreed on.
"He also says that often the times are chosen for you," Andrew continued, eyes fixed on the fire. "I've become enchanted beyond all measure with this country. In a strange way it's felt like I've come home."
"I expect you would either love or loathe this land. No half measures."
"Yes," he said, eyes reflecting the dancing flames."
Inspiration
Sea and sun!
News
Sand, from the MLR At the Museum series, is out today.
“Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand.”
Andrew Parks has come to Syria to escape potential disgrace in Edwardian England, burying past heartache and scandal among the tombs. Charles Cusiter has travelled here more reluctantly, as chaperone to a friend whose fondness for the opposite sex gets him into too much trouble at home. Out in the desert there aren’t any women to turn Bernard’s head – just the ubiquitous sand.
The desert works its magic on Charles, softening his heart. Not even a potentially fatal scorpion sting can overcome the power this strange land exerts.
Excerpt:
Andrew Parks-he insisted we called him Andrew-was as much of a surprise as his camp had been. Small, neat, as brown as a berry under a thatch of blond hair, piercing sea-grey eyes and an intelligent smile. Perhaps I should add he was possibly the most handsome man I'd ever met, but I tried not to let that show as the three of us exchanged pleasantries and discussed the latest news from the Mottram household, Andrew's mother having been an old friend of Mrs Mottram.
The parochial chit-chat allowed me to sink into the background and try to get my thoughts together. Andrew was the sort of chap who got right under my skin. Or, more accurately, right below my waistline. I didn't share Bernard's enthusiasm for girls, but where a man like Andrew was concerned.
"Why did you come here?" Bernard's question cut into my thoughts.
"Client kings. I studied them for my doctorate. Came out here and couldn't wait to get back." I could tell there was more to the story, but Andrew wasn't forthcoming.
Odd.
"I'm sorry we didn't think to bring the newspapers from home," I said, feeling I had to say something, and uncomfortable at the thought of having disappointed him.
"Not to worry," Andrew replied, a touch too airily. "Ah, Yaseem. Time to eat?"
He led us out to a canopy under the stars, something which looked like it should have come from a cinematic set. Faux desert rather than real. Andrew looked at me, with a smile and a shrug, as if to say, "See what I have to do to amuse my guests?" I could only shrug in return, tongue-tied.
When at last I could trust myself to speak, all I managed to ask was, "Do you miss home?"
"Of course I do. Although when I smell the air in this country, it makes England seem stale." Andrew spread his hands, eloquently. "I'll go back one day, when the time is right."
"To choose the right time in life shows true wisdom." I'd rarely done so, myself.
Andrew smiled. "That sounds like the sort of adage Yaseem saves for visitors. They lap them up."
"I didn't mean it as a platitude."
"Of course not." He looked concerned at having risked causing offence. "He's very wise, Yaseem. People don't always appreciate his skills, probably because of the colour of his skin."
I remembered, with a shudder, my father's scathing remarks about those with "a touch of the tar brush" about them. It was one of many things we disagreed on.
"He also says that often the times are chosen for you," Andrew continued, eyes fixed on the fire. "I've become enchanted beyond all measure with this country. In a strange way it's felt like I've come home."
"I expect you would either love or loathe this land. No half measures."
"Yes," he said, eyes reflecting the dancing flames."
Inspiration
Sea and sun!