Newsletter eighty one
May. 24th, 2013 01:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
charlie_cochraneNews
If you want to win an e-book from my back catalogue (and a donation in your name to Albert Kennedy Trust) there’s still time. I’m picking a winner on Monday from amongst those who comment on my post here about Homophobia/Transphobia.
We’re in the last few weeks of booking being open for UK Meet 2013. If you’re intending to come, make sure you put it on your to do list!
Snippet
I was thinking of my terribly respectable werewolves (in Wolves of the West) this week, of how what had started as a sort of dare (me, writing shapeshifters?) had become something different, with little digs at Premiership footballers, WAGs and the tabloid press.
“Gentlemen, I thank you for coming to this extraordinary meeting.” The chairman looked grave. Extraordinary it was, in more ways than one, to be gathered together when the moon was a week into its waning. All eyes were fixed on the head of the table–ostensibly fixed, although there was a lot of looking out of their corners going on, people trying to see if any of their colleagues knew what was happening. Rory didn’t; nor his lover. He was as perplexed as the rest of those present if bemused faces were anything to go by.
“We have received a complaint.” A gasp ran around the table, as clear in its progress as one of those dreadful Mexican waves that had begun to plague even cricket matches.
A complaint. Rory could only remember two of those in all the years he’d been a member of this select gathering. There’d been a nasty little affair back in the 1950’s when one of their number had gone wandering over Green Park, scaring the wildfowl and then attempting to mount an off duty guardsman. It had all been a bit galling for the lycanthrope involved, especially as the very same guardsman had been more than receptive to his amatory overtures the week before, when his paramour was in non-hirsute form. They’d had to oil the soldier’s palms with pound notes and dispatch his devotee to Australia. Punishment enough for anyone, even though the cricket would be more entertaining.
Then there’d been the case of Frederick, one of the leading lights at University college, who was a bit outside of their usual patch but he rode a fast bike. He’d become overexcited one full moon, back in the 1920’s, not been able to control his hunger and satisfied himself with a supper of poodle. It had taken a visit from the chairman himself to mollify Lady Lavington about her beloved pet. He’d explained that the misdemeanour had to be laid fairly at the feet of one of the dogs that guarded the dinosaur fossils in the museum. He pleaded that the circumstances had been mitigating, the poodle having been found allegedly gnawing on a stegosaur’s metatarsal at the time, the Alsatian acting as jury, judge and hangman in one fell swoop. A generous contribution to an animal charity had brought the case to a conclusion, filthy lucre once more proving the salve to many a complaint.
The chairman had reported Lord Lavington as secretly delighted at the loss of the verminous pest, although possibly not the sort of man they’d want to have taking too close an interest in their business. ‘Congo’ Lavington had taken his gun in search of mokole-mbembe and other strange, apocryphal creatures—the date of the attack might have suggested to him another explanation, closer to the truth.
“One of you has been indiscreet. Horribly so.” The chairman took a long, steady look at each of the assembled members. Rory racked his brains, but apart from having to relieve himself in the bushes at Wentworth he could bring no transgression to mind. He took a glance at his colleagues, all of whom looked equally perplexed.
“I refer to this.” The chairman held up a copy of The Sun, making another shudder of distaste fly around the table. He opened the tabloid newspaper gingerly, as if he feared catching mange from it. “The headline reads Wolf eats Sabrina’s Chihuahua. I quote,” the chairman shivered slightly, “the lady in question. I’d just stepped out of the shower when I saw this brute eating my little Destiny.”
Inspiration:
Great evening at Bognor library. Always good to meet other authors and some very thoughtful and pertinent questions to get our mental juices flowing!
Charlie
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-24 02:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-24 02:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-24 07:54 pm (UTC)Always good to see your wolves too.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-24 07:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-05-24 08:04 pm (UTC)Shall email.