Books – quite a lot of them! Oh and narrow roads and sheep

by thehistoryinterpreter

DSCF0613I am an inveterate reader. Despite an unavoidable serious cull when I drastically downsized, I still have 11 six foot high bookcases full of books in my bedrooms. I now have more than 1000 books in my living room as well. The only snag is that they are all the same one and I have read it numerous times! This week saw the arrival of THE novel. In an attempt to ensure that copies were ready for the 17 November launch, various contingencies were allowed for. Rather too many contingencies as it turns out. Now I have to find house room for 54 boxes for three months, before I can start selling. Obviously, I will be pleased to think that anyone might want to read it but I am really hoping that not all purchasers will go for digital copies or Amazon orders, as this will not deplete my stash. Currently, when I sit on the settee my knees are in the fireplace, as the boxes are piled behind said settee.

Delivery of the pallet load of books was a challenge. Would you think that a delivery company with a thirty foot lorry might have invested in one of those handy sat-navs that allows you to input the dimensions of your vehicle, to prevent you becoming inextricably stuck? It seems this is an unreasonable expectation. When the delivery driver first rang for directions (it seems he did not have any form of sat-nav or indeed a map but was relying on signposts) he was already a long way down the ‘I really wouldn’t go that way’ route. Despite this, he did eventually arrive in my not very wide road, via some even less wide roads. Book delivery is never straightforward as I do not have a drive but I borrowed the church path temporarily and 54 boxes later, the pallet was empty. Fortunately, I had enlisted the help of a pallet loving fisherman of my acquaintance. The conversation began, ‘Would you like a free pallet?’ I didn’t get to the ‘you have to move 54 boxes first,’ bit.

All I can say is, it is a good job I don’t live in East Portlemouth. We travelled to the south coast to recruit troops for the Siege of Salcombe this week. They were a lovely mixed age audience and it was wonderful to be able to perform to those from 5-85 years old. The journey was ‘interesting’ and yes we do have a sat-nav that takes account of our width. We are used to narrow roads. We are used to very narrow roads. These were debateably not roads at all. Coming in the opposite direction were the ‘I am in a hurry to get home from work’ brigade, who were clearly not expecting anyone to have the audacity to go the other way along the seven foot wide tracks. Then there were the sheep who were wandering along the road for some considerable way. Fortunately, I was not behind the wheel on this occasion, although give me that kind of driving over motorways anytime. I know how to find reverse!

#100daysofbfotc Day 3: Herbert Henry Asquith

by thehistoryinterpreter
H H Asquith Prime Minister via Wikipedia This work is from the George Grantham Bain collection at the Library of Congress.

Image from the George Grantham Bain collection at the Library of Congress, in the public domain.

The Asquith family were closely associated with Clovelly Court and the current owner of Clovelly is Asquith’s great-grandson. At the time of his appearance in Chapter 5 of Barefoot on the Cobbles, Herbert Henry Asquith was the Prime Minister. A staunch Liberal, he was a barrister by profession. He is hailed as the founder of the modern welfare state; a number of significant reforms were introduced under his leadership. He was however a noted adversary of the woman’s suffrage movement and it is in this context that he crosses the pages of Barefoot. His inclusion in the novel relates to a well-known local incident and almost all the words that he uses in the book are taken directly from newspaper reports.

‘Instead of closing his eyes in prayer, the Prime Minister was scanning the note. He looked towards the pew a couple of rows in front of him, where the three young women were seated and then to the side door of the church. His jaw-line, with its cleft chin, was set firm and hastily he put the scrap of paper into his pocket.’

Barefoot on the Cobbles will be published on 17 November 2018. More information about the novel can be found here. Copies will be available at various events in the weeks following the launch or can be pre-ordered from Blue Poppy Publishing or the author.

#100daysofbfotc Day 2: William

by thehistoryinterpreter

William BraundYou will meet William in the pages of the first chapter. William is a taciturn fisherman, who is content, providing there is a meal on the table and no-one disturbs his afternoon doze. He has lived all his life in the fishing hamlet of Bucks Mills, where he fished alongside his father and grandfather and now runs a small Bucks Ledge Boat with his two sons. By the time the story opens, he has lived in Rose Cottage at the top of the village for about three years. He was born in 1837 at the now ruined cottage The Bluff but grew up in King’s Cottage overlooking the sea. When he married, he moved to John’s Cottage and spent a few years at Mark’s, before settling at Rose Cottage, where he died in 1906.

‘Hobnails clashed and sparked on the cobbles outside and the menfolk filled the small room with their bulk and the scent of the sea.

‘Good catch?’ asked Mary.

‘Plenty enough,’ replied William. ‘Takey’s off to Bideford with a cart load. We were late in, so he was already pretty full and we’ve some left he wouldn’t have, so they’ll need salting down.’ ’

Barefoot on the Cobbles will be published on 17 November 2018. More information about the novel can be found here. Copies will be available at various events in the weeks following the launch or can be pre-ordered from Blue Poppy Publishing or the author.

#100daysofbfotc Day 1: Clovelly Cobbles

by thehistoryinterpreter

New InnMuch of Barefoot on the Cobbles is set in the unique village of Clovelly. Clovelly is a privately-owned fishing village on the rugged North Devon coast and many of the cottages that are lived in by the novel’s characters are 400 years old. The steep, cobbled street, that is reflected in Barefoot’s title, means that motorised transport is prohibited. Modern-day residents walk up and down the main street just as Polly, Albert, Daisy and other inhabitants of Barefoot would have done. Although, in the early twentieth century, donkeys, as well as sledges, were used to transport goods, nowadays the donkeys are merely there to recreate the atmosphere of the past. In Barefoot’s time, tourism was secondary to the fishing fleet, whose small boats sought herring, lobster, prawns and mackerel on the uncertain waves. Now, the fishing fleet has dwindled to a handful of boats and Clovelly is dedicated to catering for visitors.

‘Daisy was a child of the season, delighting in the heat and the chance to discard her boots in favour of skipping over the cobbles in her bare feet. She loved the feel of the hard stones as she curled her toes round each pebble, like a bird poised for flight.’ (Chapter 4)

Barefoot on the Cobbles will be published on 17 November 2018. More information about the novel can be found here. Copies will be available at various events in the weeks following the launch or can be pre-ordered from Blue Poppy Publishing or the author.

Ok so the real post this time – I hope!

by thehistoryinterpreter

So what happened there? I blame the rubbish motel internet – I am too mean to pay for the upgrade. Thanks to the 200ish people who looked at a blank post yesterday let’s hope this works!

So it is officially the hottest week for decades and here I am stuck in a motel room in that northern industrial city once again. For the benefit of my overseas readers, these rooms are not equipped with air-con and the windows only open a couple of inches because they are afraid of being sued if guests jump out. Normally, the rooms are equipped with fans. I appreciate that all these do is move hot air round the room but it does give the illusion of slightly less heat. My travelling companion sweet-talking the receptionist, resulted in the provision of an industrial strength, floor-standing fan, which I think may have deprived the receptionists of a breeze. Even with this on all night, the temperature did not dip below 28 degrees. I know, I must have looked at the thermostat at least once an hour. Now it is 7.30pm and still 29.5 degrees, a good fifteen degrees above my ideal bedroom temperature.

In other adventures: in an effort to look vaguely respectable for ‘work’ I brought a suit to wear. As I went to put it on, I discovered that the trousers were missing. I have no idea at what stage they escaped from the dry cleaner’s polythene bag in which they were ensconced but they are not there now. That put paid to the professional image I was trying to create. Anyone seen a pair of trousers lying abandoned at some point between home and here?

A bit of a win win in the motel restaurant though. In the crowded dining room last night we patiently waited foodless for 45 minutes after ordering. When food arrived for a table who had ordered 25 minutes after us, we politely enquired as to the whereabouts of our dinners. We’ve been involved in the hospitality industry, we understand that these things happen. Cue grovelling apology, full refund of the price of our dinner, the appearance of our meals and the offer of a compensatory bottle of wine. Being virtual non-drinkers, I ask if we can have free breakfasts instead. Yes, is the reply. Today we descended for a our free breakfasts to be greeted with a bottle of wine as well! – that’s another for the book launch collection (permission for serving of alcohol permitting). It was 7.30am; we nonchalantly sauntered out of the restaurant looking like it was normal to be carrying a bottle of wine about at that hour.

Chris and Musket 1 DEPhotographyI have noticed that, as I struggle with all this marketing lark for Barefoot on the Cobbles, it seems that the way to get a reaction on social media is to post gratuitous pictures of the fisherman of my acquaintance. Forget images of cute animals, I have cracked the latest trend! So here is a random picture that has nothing to do with my post but which will get folks rushing to click on their like buttons – maybe.

Introducing 100 Days of Barefoot on the Cobbles

by thehistoryinterpreter

0U9A3415On 9 August it will be 100 days until Barefoot on the Cobbles is launched. Each day, from 9 August onwards, I will be posting a short item about one of the characters you will meet in the novel, or one of the locations that is mentioned. This will give readers an opportunity to learn more about some of the people and places that grace its pages. These will be accompanied by lines from the book. I will continue to bore you with other elements of my rather eccentric existence but these posts will be separate. I hope you will enjoy getting to know the people who have been part of my life for the last couple of years.

Historical Fiction and other Excitements

by thehistoryinterpreter

Picture of posterAs I am in full-on Barefoot on the Cobbles marketing mode, I am excited to share my latest acquisition. Well, that’s the zero marketing budget well and truly blown. I am still working out where I can keep it! I am also now able to announce that I will be speaking at The Genealogy Show at the NEC in Birmingham next June. There are some great speakers from across the globe on the bill, many of who I am proud to call my friends.

Today I was giving a talk in South Devon and was able to combine it with searching out the probable burial place of my 7 x great grandfather, John Braund. It took me 37 years to find him, now I am frustrated because I can’t confirm his parentage after only four years of searching. I am almost certain I know who they were but assembling sufficient evidence to support my supposition is another matter.

And finally because, as a Brit, I have to talk about the weather, an incident from earlier this week. Don’t get me wrong I love the heat, unless I am incarcerated in a small space with a large number of hormonal teenagers that us. The downside is that numerous pesky insects have decided that I make a half-decent meal. My incredibly expensive super-strength insect repellent was confiscated by Qantas security but I do have the equally expensive and as yet unused insect repellent scarf, purchased in order to go to Peru. This takes the form of a circle of stretchy material, which can, the instructions allege, be worn in a variety of ways. Most of these involve me looking as if I am about to hold up a bank (I wish – we are now bereft of an even half local bank and there’s a y in the day, so no chance of the mobile post van turning up). I opt for the least sinister style, which means I have just hung the loop round my neck. It is 80 degrees. Casual callers, such as the postman, clearly think this scarf wearing lunatic should be certified.

Getting Nearer! – – the excitement of indie book publishing

by thehistoryinterpreter

I did think of entitling this ‘it’s coming home’ but I didn’t want to antagonise football fans. It does seem incongruous though that even the quality media outlets are eclipsing the visit by an individual, who is arguably one of the world’s most unpopular, unpleasant and potentially dangerous leaders, in favour of a game (you get that – a GAME) that we didn’t even win.

DSCF0557All that aside, there is super thrilling Barefoot on the Cobbles news. My masterpiece, aka lovingly crafted manuscript, now almost looks like a book. Ok, it is what is known as a block, so it is unbound but it is excitingly close to being a book and I can see what the layout will look like. I also splashed out my zero marketing budget on some promotional materials and there is still a poster to come. In 129 days (not that I’m counting) copies will be available, to read, love, cherish, or light the fire with, according to your preferences. Actually, I am counting because I hope that there will be something coming on this blog in the 100 days running up to launch day on 17 November.

I’ve said it before, I will no doubt say it again, it is possible to pre-order copies already. An ideal solution if you think you’ll forget if you don’t. My preference is to hand over copies in person, perhaps at one of the events I will be attending but for those of you whose paths only cross mine in a virtual sense, then pre-ordering might be the thing. Alternatively, you could support your local independent bookshop and order a copy from them after it has been published. It will be available via Amazon but ideally I would like to see a larger slice of the very small profit go to my publisher, a small bookshop, oh and me!

In the midst of organising a media frenzy, well, a media ripple anyway, for novel #1, #2 is underway. So far it has a provisional title and is 3000 words of notes. It is still a bit of a secret at the moment but it involves another Devon tragedy, set in the seventeenth century this time. Like Barefoot, it is very much about human behaviour and again it is based on a real incident, with female characters predominating.

Here, There and Everywhere

by thehistoryinterpreter

I am writing this in a field, to elucidate, I am in a caravan in a field, in preparation for the South West Area Genealogical Fair in Swindon. So far we have ‘enjoyed’ the music festival in the neighbouring fields and my shoe has had to be retrieved from the caravan site owner’s dog. Life is never dull. Despite the blog silence, there has been plenty to fill the days since our return from foreign climes. Activities have included speaking at a Migration day conference organised by Somerset & Dorset Family History Society’s Bridport Group. Then I got talked into being an ‘inspirational’ woman; in the company of iron women, nurses and fashion designers. No, I don’t quite know how I ended up there either.  I spoke to High School girls about, well, me really I suppose. The girls circulated from one speaker to another in a speed dating like haze.

I’ve spent a week trying to negotiate my way out of a room along the faceless corridors of a motel. I have attempted, on more than one occasion, to open the room door using my debit card. Yes, it is that time of year again. The glorious weather began and I was incarcerated in a northern industrial city, embroiled in the job I must not mention. It turns out that this coincided with (insert name of a northern industrial city here) Day, allegedly meaning 60,000 people were descending on said city. Fortunately, I managed to avoid 59,000 of them. Another indicator that I am not fit to be let out alone came when I inadvertently did something peculiar to Chris’ phone, meaning that it neither rang nor vibrated when I tried to summon him to collect me from the centre of the town to take me to the motel after my meeting. Fortunately we did manage to make contact but it turned out that whatever I’d done was considerably more complicated than just turning the sound off. Cue frantic ‘live chat’ to help lines and a Chinese whispers-like scenario whereby I read the handy hints suggested on the chat line to Chris who, without the aid of reading glasses, attempted to carry out the instructions for resetting a something or other.

Then there was the rather strange meeting room that I had been allocated for the session I was running in a city centre hotel. Being a small meeting, it was decided that I could have a ‘seminar room’ aka a thinly disguised hotel bedroom. This was six floors up from the rest of the public rooms. Great I thought, we will have our own en suite and indeed we did. Unfortunately in order to turn the bedroom into a meeting room it had been necessary to hide the bed – in the bathroom. The mattress was incongruously wedged into the shower and the toilet was inaccessible. Undaunted, I heaved parts of a double bed across the room in order to avoid us having to descend six floors.

DSCF0541

The Braund stand at South West Area Genealogical Fair

This is also the height of the Swords and Spindles season. Typical. The record temperatures soar and I am encased in thick woollen seventeenth century clothing, entrapped in a classroom with forty thirteen year olds. There is the prospect of something very exciting on the Swords and Spindles front for 2019 but it isn’t yet confirmed so, for now, all I can offer is a tantalising hint.

And there is Barefoot on the Cobbles news: my tour de force is currently at the printers for the creation of a proof copy. The publishers are now also taking pre-publication orders. If you aren’t likely to be in a position to get a copy direct from my hot little hand, then this may be an option for you. Do please read what I have written about the book first, I don’t want anyone to get any nasty surprises.

Days 24 & 25 Homeward Bound

by thehistoryinterpreter

We are collected for our final journey across Christchurch to the airport. Bag drop next and it turns out that we could hardly have packed better. We have exactly 53kg of belongings and although one bag was 23.2kg, we made up for it with the others being 15kg and 14.8kg respectively. Common sense prevailed and we were not asked to redistribute anything.

The flights home are largely uneventful, although three flights, each longer than the last, is less favourable than the opposite, which we experienced on the outgoing journey. Unfortunately, the thirteen hour flight from Singapore is full and we were unable to secure aisle seats, so the occasions when we can leave our seats are governed by the habits of the young lady (with the bladder capacity of an elephant) on the aisle. Aeroplane food is never exactly haute cuisine but that supplied by Qantas is better than most. I do wonder when the recent wave of anti-plastic feeling is going to impact on airline catering, which involves a ridiculous amount of single use plastic. Our belongings are swabbed for explosives. Fortunately, this is restricted to our hand luggage. We speculate what will happen if they test our cabin luggage, which contains the clothes Chris wears to fire the musket. Fortunately, they don’t seem to have done this.

It seems really odd to be away from our New Zealand conference routine and the friends we made there. I keep wondering where Maurice is and wondering why I can no longer hear an Irish accent in the background. Many of us will be reconvening for the Unlock the Past Alaskan Cruise in September and we are certainly looking forward to that even more now. I give up trying to work out what time my body thinks it is and intersperse dozing with Suduko solving.

We now have six and a half hours to wait for our coach. Time is spent waiting while the luggage carousel is fixed, it having jammed when only two-thirds of our belongings had been retrieved. We were expecting to be too hot in our New Zealand appropriate winter clothes but the coach station is chillily air conditioned and not the most comfortable place to wait for such a long time.

DSCF0500I manage to pass the time on the coach by falling asleep. One minute we were in Heathrow, next I knew we were at Tiverton. Despite having a wonderful time, it was good to be home, even though I have come straight back to full-on job we must not mention. The tropical weather while we’ve been away has had a drastic effect on the garden and the grass is now two foot high. It will have to wait until other catching up is done.