Charlie's latest newsletter

It’s Mothering Sunday this weekend, so halfway through Lent to Easter. Where has the year gone? And does that make me sound very old, talking about time flying? I must be old, because I’ve had my first Covid jab and the second is booked. 😊
 
News
 
You’ll be – I hope – delighted to know that Lessons in Following a Poisonous Trail is now available in print and that I’ll be getting Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem into print version soon. That will make all the Cambridge Fellows novellas available in paperback.
 
Prizes, prizes, prizes! Actually, a whole bundle of them for one lucky winner, including 3 x $5 gift cards, 7 x backlist ebooks, 2 x audio codes, a signed paperback…and a partridge in a pear tree. To be fair, there isn’t actually a partridge or a pear tree, but all the rest will be there, from the authors: NR Walker, L.C. Chase, Meredith Spies, C F White, Rachel Ember, Charley Descoteaux, Jacy Braegan, G.R. Lyons, Talia Carmichael, Selina Kray, Tal Bauer, Ruby Moone – and me.

Very simple to enter, just go here and use your email address. Better still, share the event, or follow one of the many authors involved on Bookbub,  and you'll get extra entries.  The winner will be randomly selected on 23 March (my birthday, but that’s just a coincidence) at 9:00 GMT.

 To celebrate the event, I wrote a special Lindenshaw piece, namely Campbell the Newfoundland’s view of his two dads. It’s here in its entirety:
 
I’ve never had such a fuss made of me as I have today.
Okay, that might be an exaggeration. I suppose you have to count that time where I took on the bloke with the knife. They were all over me like fleas, afterwards, checking I was okay and then giving me my favourite food for weeks. I’m not sure what all the palaver was about as I was only doing my job: I had no choice but to fix my jaws around his arm, did I? Got to stand up for my dads.
Oh yeah, and there was another time before that. Some stuck up tart was in my kitchen, within reach of my Bonios, waving a gun about and generally being a pain, so I went for her. A dog’s got to protect hearth and home. My other dad wasn’t my other dad at that point—child of a single parent, that was me—but then the murder case got solved and Adam wasn’t a suspect anymore. Which meant Robin and him could play smoochy smoochy. They did that a lot: still do, now that Robin’s moved in permanently.
I hope it’s permanent.
I love Adam to little bits, even if he wasn’t my first parent. That was a big, warm mummy dog although I barely remember her. Then there were two older people, who looked like Adam but they went away somewhere and I never saw them again. After that Adam came to live in my house and be my new dad and once I’d got him house-trained and into the right routine we got along swimmingly. (See what I did there? We Newfoundlands are known for our abilities in water although I rarely get the chance to show them off.)
Sometimes other blokes came round to see Adam but I’m glad none of them stayed that long. Not up to the required standard. I set the bar high and nothing is too good for my dad as far as I’m concerned. He looks after me better than many other dogs of my acquaintance are looked after. We canines all have a chat, when we meet up at park and our dads—or mums—are having a gossip, so I know how well-off I am. I have a servant who comes in during the day, attending to my every whim, which isn’t something all other dogs have. Dog-walking services people come for them sometimes, although they hardly sound a barrel of laughs.
Now Sandra—my servant—always chats to me and not in that stupid way people address me or other dog., You know,  like we’re babies. Sandra and I have deep, meaningful conversations about the state of the world and what I think of the music she’s playing. I can’t say that REM are my taste although I am partial to the Pet Shop Boys.
What was I talking about before we got onto dog-walkers? Oh yes, dads.
Robin’s got a difficult job. I know that because he likes me and Adam to get involved in it, catching murderers and other low-lifes. Of course, he says he doesn’t want us to be tangled up in his cases, but a dog has to do what a dog has to do. Anyway, when Robin gets home after a hard day, he needs a cold, wet nose in his hand and sometimes a good licking. I supply the nose and Adam and I share the licking bit. Robin also enjoys curling up with me on the sofa, watching the football—I really like Harry Kane—or the rugby. I bet I’d be good at pushing in those scrums.
Back to today. Sorry if I keep going off on a tangent. It’s a dog thing.
Sandra’s been busy this last week, cooking, cleaning and rehearsing me for my big day. I had to learn to carry a waterproof bag with two rings in it, walk along in a straight line and then drop the thing at Adam’s feet, before going back to where I started and sitting on my blanket. Not sure why I needed to practice at all, because it was pretty simple. I suppose if I’d been one of these breeds that are thick as two short planks (no names, no pack drill) it might have challenged my little grey cells, but Newfoundlands are intellectual sorts.
So off we went today to a posh pub, where there was a little audience awaiting me, including my two grandmas who were wearing the biggest hats you’ve ever seen. If you’d turned them over, you could have got half a ton of dog biscuits in each one. I was dolled up with a white bow tie, which looked very classy against my black fur. I did the carrying-the-rings thing, which everyone thought was amazing. The grans cried, which I reckon was a bit excessive, although if they’d been looking forward to my performance, I can understand them getting emotional.
After I’d done my bit there was more stuff with both the dads and lots of talking and something about the rings. The grans cried again. (That noise is my eyes rolling.) Then we all went and had lots of pictures taken—everyone wanted one with me, of course—after which there was food. And more food. Someone gave me a splash of beer but that was horrible. No idea why the dads seem to like it so much.
The grans fussed over me, as did everyone else, because clearly it was some big important event, although I’m still not clear exactly what. The dads have both been wearing those rings since then, so I guess it was something to with them showing how much they love me. And love each other.
 
 
 
Charlie