Yesterday I put a post on my personal and Jackson Marsh Facebook pages – a little quiz that went like this:
Just for fun – and NO Googling, because you either know or you don’t. What on earth has all of the following:
A spine, shoulder, tail, pin, toe, face, edge, heel, point and scales?
The answer is at the bottom of this page, if you click the link, you’ll find an image with all those things labelled, and you might be surprised.
Here are a few more clues:
I came across this information while researching for ‘A Case of Make Believe.’
The thing in question is not that big.
It was used more in the 19th century than it is now.
Not everyone would have one, but if you did have one, you’d know if you didn’t use it properly.
Before I give you the answer, I’d just like to bring you up to date on the currently running Crime Story promo which is still running and will be until the end of the month. If you’re into crime novels, then there are plenty to spark your interest here:
And now, the answer to the quiz – but have one last think before you click the button…
What on earth has all of the following:
A spine, shoulder, tail, pin, toe, face, edge, heel, point and scales?
It’s time for a roundup of what’s going on in my Jackson Marsh world right now, and life’s a varied bag of pick-n-mix, to say the least. Here’s the roundup.
Where There’s a Will
The draft is with the proofreader, and Andjela and I are working on the cover. The first thing to get right is the face of Will Merrit, and here’s one of the mock-ups she’s managed to produce from the original photo.
There are things to tweak on that draft version, but we’ll get there.
Delamere Files Book Five
I have started researching the history and details of the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, and in particular, the world of Maskelyne and Cooke’s mysterious entertainments. The magic shows as we might call them these days. I did some work in this area when I wrote ‘Seeing through Shadows’ in the Larkspur Series, because it’s where Chester Cadman met the man who duped him, and ‘Shadows’ is about Chester cracking the case of the Larkspur Ghost. I am currently thinking about writing an investigation that takes place in the world of onstage magicians.
The first thing I need is a title because I want to add that to the end of book four.
Bobby
This is my late godfather’s life story, which is a lot about growing up and being gay during the 20th century. I am now working on the section which is my reminiscences of the man, while the rest of the text is being read and checked by Neil and others. I will have to ask Andjela to do me another cover, and the layout may have to wait until July when I will next be able to afford to pay for the work, but the book should come along in the next couple of months. Meanwhile, here’s a photo of me and Bobby, taken, I reckon in 1971 when my parents had not long bought the house behind us.
Here’s a strange numbers thing. I have a godson who is currently 16 while I am 61, and pointed out to him today that the phenomenon of our ages being reversible will not happen again. He was born when I was 44. My godfather was also 44 when I was born, so when I was 16 he was 61, and that phenomenon never happened again.
Promotions
There are several excellent promotions running at the moment, and I am in them. They are a mix of Academy Series Starters (all genres but in an academic setting), Mayhem and Motives, a collection of great titles in the mystery, action & adventure field, and Pride Month, which is all to do with general LGBT fiction including Sci-fi and Fantasy, and in my case, historical mystery.
All of these promos cost you nothing to view and there are loads of new titles and authors for you to check out, so plenty of ideas for summer reading. Many of the books, or all of them in some promo cases, are available on KU, so if you’re signed up for that, you now have a new and exciting library of gay lit to see you through.
The Strange Case of the Missing Man
We are living through a local mystery right now here on Symi, because a TV presenter and journalist has mysteriously vanished. Last Wednesday, Michael Mosley set off to walk back from a beach via a well-used and open route and hasn’t been since. We’ve been doing what we can to help, and that’s mainly been deflecting journalists and pointing them towards the authorities, and guiding some of the family around the village to show them the lie of the land as the search continues.
And Onwards
So, for me, it’s now back to the typo-writer, and onto the final chapter of Bobby, while thinking up a title for book five, doing a jigsaw to free up my mind, trying to stay cool (nearly 40 degrees again yesterday), drinking lots of water (at least five litres yesterday), and looking forward to a family visit that starts next weekend. As usual, it’s all go.
Thanks for reading, and thanks to everyone who’s been clicking on the promos and getting me a good referral reputation, and to everyone who is currently reading and buying the books. It generates a small income, but as it’s the only one I have, it’s very well received!
Hello everyone! Apologies if you just received a newsletter and it was exactly the same as this post, more or less, but it’s the start of a new promo month. Therefore, I have news of promos running in June, the month in which I will release the 4th Delamere Files novel, ‘Where There’s a Will.’
I am very pleased to say that the new series has been doing really well, and that’s mainly thanks to you, my readers and supporters, and to the Book Funnel promotions. This is where a group of authors get together and promote each other’s books, simply by sharing the link to the promo page. Our readers and supporters go to the page to browse, and, hopefully, pick up some copies of a new author’s book. The promotions are themed, and naturally, I go for the historical novels ones, and/or the adventure, romance, action, mystery… whatever is suitable to the book.
So, here is news of what promos you can go and check out this month. Apart from one, they are all running until the end of the month. It doesn’t cost you anything to click, but the more clicks I get direct from this newsletter, the better it makes me look – wink, wink.
LGBT Reading Party
(Only available until 8th June)
This is a celebratory sales promo for authors of works with characters who would identify anywhere within the LGBTQIA+ spectrum.
Anyone can join the promo, as long as the main character of the book is part of the LGBTQIA+ community. Well, for me, that’s ripe for all three of my series starters, and they are in there along with over 200 other titles. Plenty of new LGBT authors, stories and series to check out there, and from all genres.
Sometimes when I can’t think of anything to write, I need to go looking for inspiration. Today, being in the state of not knowing what to write here, I went looking for inspiration in the British Newspaper Archives. I thought I’d have a look and see what was in the newspapers this day in 1892.
Page one
The London Evening Standard, as with many newspapers, leads with births, adverts and listings, as many front pages did in those days. Their top-left advertisement was for a funeral service, and that was followed by the birth of a daughter to Mr J A G Bengough of Gloucestershire. It’s not until page two that you get to the tightly packed columns of text and political news.
Page two
There were no headlines, as such, and every single letter and number had to be placed in the printing frame by hand, and backwards. It still amazes me that newspapers looked like this and were put together by hand.
Also on this day in 1892, a Wednesday, you could have had the choice of newspapers. In London, where I am looking, I have the Standard, the Morning Post, The Sportsman, Globe, Pall Mall Gazette, St James’ Gazette, Islington Gazette, Sporting Life, the Hackney and Kingsland Gazette, the Public Ledger and Weekly Advertiser, and the Commercial Gazette, among others. That last one had an image on its front page, so I went to examine it in more detail. It was this:
An advertisement for the Zeeland Steamship Company, running between England and the continent twice daily by paddle steamer. However, because I lived in the house my character Larkin Chase lives in in the Delamere Files series, I opted to look at the Hackney and Kingsland Gazette, to see what was happening in my ‘hood’ 132 years ago today.
Again, a front page of advertisements for church events, schools, doctors, breweries, and many other businesses, because although only a few pages long, the H & K Gazette needed income from advertising to survive. House and shop sales cover page two, some theatre news, and then, finally, some local news. A woman didn’t like the people at the Cock pub in Mare Street and smashed their plate glass windows. Damage estimated at £25.00, the culprit was committed for trial. Then, there’s a strange thing where, it seems, the Salvation Army was using the plight of London’s match girls to sell their own matches. Their advert/piece states that if we all used Salvation Army matches, the ‘poor match girls in East London would be saved from much suffering, anguish, disfigurement and often death.’ I mean, talk about layering it on a bit thick, not to mention being hypocritical.
Later on, there is some cricket information which would have pleased Doctor Markland, a whole column dedicated to the Conservative and Liberal Unionist electors, and then some interesting deaths. A 71-year-old sleepwalker fell from a window (suspicious), and at 10.20 in the morning, a middle-aged man expired while pushing his heavy barrow through Stoke Newington, poor chap. Doctor Markland would have had a field day with the next short story. It concerns a man who, while watching a cricket match, was struck on the head by the ball and later died. There will be an inquest.
The last page of the publication takes us back to advertisements and notices. So, when people ask me where I get my ideas from, very often, they come from browsing through these old newspapers of the past. If you are interested, the British Newspaper Archive can be found here.
Don’t forget the Historical Novel promotion is still running, highlighting various books and periods, and all are available on KU. Click the pic to uncover all the covers.
As well as writing my fiction, I am working on a true story. It is that of my godfather who was born in 1919 and lived well into his 80s. Uncle Bob, as I called him, was gay and wanted everyone to know his story, so when I was in the UK several years ago now, I recorded him telling his lie story, and later, started transcribing it. I am now working on a version for publication (eventually), and today, I thought I would share the opening with you.
I have checked and amended certain facts as best I can (because his memory of all those years ago may not have been accurate), but other than that, the text is written more or less as he spoke it.
Here’s the first page.
Tooting 1919 – 1933
When I was born in 1919, our house was worth 100 pounds. Fourteen years later, I was earning that amount each week as a rent boy in Piccadilly.
Three things happened to me between 1919 and 1933 that had a lasting effect on my life. I look back on them now as defining moments, but at the time they were more than that. I suppose you might call them revelations. I didn’t realise at the time what exactly they meant to me, only that they were important. But now, recalling the 85 years of my life, I can place them in the order of things, and understand their significance.
They were small events at the time but things which shaped the way I approached my life – a life that took me from the house of my birth in Tooting, to the West End of London when I was still only thirteen, and from there to Wormwood Scrubs, the Royal Navy, the Mediterranean and the Pacific, and then back to London where, in the course of my professional duties, I was to meet politicians, religious leaders and royalty. They are the first things that I remember encountering on my path through almost a century of gay life – a century that saw the world change rapidly. Television, telephones, computers and gay rights were not even things of science fiction when I was born.
But what are these three clear-as-a-bell memories from an early twentieth-century childhood? They are more than just recollections of a post-First World War life in south London. They are not just snapshots of a life lit by gaslight, when boys went to school barefoot, and Mr Gilman walked ahead of the horse-drawn funeral carriage, stopping the traffic. I am certain they are not parts of dreams that come back to me in old age, tricks played on the mind by my four score years and five. These moments are as real to me now as they were then. It is as if I can reach out my hand and touch my own history, like Alice putting her hand through the looking glass and reaching into another world. Only, when I do it I am touching another time.
I can still see the group of ex-servicemen, wearing women’s clothes and pushing a barrel organ along our street.
I can still feel the older man’s hand touching mine.
I can still remember the moment another boy kissed me for the first time, and I realised what was different about me.
These are the three most prominent moments in my memory of a childhood in Tooting. But they are not the only ones.
Tooting High Street, 1919. Looking south towards Colliers Wood with what’s now the @themanortooting on the right, Longley Road on the left. Photo from Tooting Newsie on X
Beginnings
My birth was the result of the Great War, although not the only result, of course. Far more important matters were taking place in the world at that time, but on November 12th, 1919, a year and a day after the fighting had stopped, and London was beginning to return to normality, I was delivered into my parent’s front room. More precisely, I sloshed out into the world in the safe hands of Mrs Allen, the formidable, fat midwife who delivered all the children in the street. Like some matronly earth mother, she was also the one who laid out the dead, often before the doctor arrived; if the doctor arrived at all. She was a central character in Gambole Road, Tooting, whereas I was just another post-war baby.
Gambole Road was typical of its time; a side street of terraced houses, dimly lit at night by gas burners. Each lamp was hand lit at dusk by the man whose job it was to walk the streets and ensure that we had light. There were three families living in our building, number 30. The house had three floors, one family on each, and like most houses at that time it was rented. It was quite common for one landlord to own several properties in a street, as ours did. He was a local decorator and kept his houses in good repair, investing some of his rental income back into them.
Academic romance novels promo collection – click and rowse
You know how I research words as best I can so that I don’t put anachronistic words into the mouths of my 19th-century characters? Well, I’ve been doing it again. If you’ve read this blog over the years you will know I sometimes talk about words I can’t use because they weren’t in general usage in 1888 to 1892 when my series are set, words like okay, paperwork, acerbic, or even acidic. If I’m not sure, I go and look the word up in a dictionary or use the online one which tells me when the word was first found in printed material. That’s usually a reasonably accurate indication of when the word was also spoken, but there are things to bear in mind. A) words are often spoken for a while before they are accepted into a dictionary, so the date shown is probably slightly earlier, and B) this online dictionary has a bent towards when the word was first used in America, and the date might be slightly different for Britain.
Anyway…
I was writing a chapter for ‘Where There’s a Will,’ and one of the clues involved the publisher’s logo on the spine of a book. Logo…? Off I go to look it up, and sure enough, it was hardly used until the 1950s. I can’t use logo, but these things must have had other names, so I turned to a friend of mine who knows about such things and this is how the email exchange went.
‘What was a publisher’s logo called before the word logo came about, any idea?’ I asked, and clarified with, ‘The Penguin symbol on penguin books, for example, is there a better or older word for one of those things, other than logo? I think they were called logograms or logotypes, and logo is an abbreviation – just wondered if you knew of any other word for them.’
My books don’t have a logo
This was his reply.
Interesting question, to which I don’t actually know the answer.
I know the word logotype has a specific history in printing. It was something printers used to save time when making up common words. Typesetting was all about making up text from individual letters cast in metal or made of wood. Some bright spark hit on the idea that for certain common words it would be quicker to cast the whole word as one piece of metal or wood. For example, in newspaper printing, the word that made up the paper’s title on the front page could be cast as one big block of text. And these word blocks were called logotypes.
But the modern concept of the logo symbol really goes back to heraldry and beyond. People had their crests and devices, and shops and inns had their signs.
So my guess would be that in the 19th century, people would refer to signs, devices, crests, symbols, marks, and that kind of thing. Goldsmiths and silversmiths had marks which were stamped on their wares. With the advent of industrial-scale advertising, you get companies like Coco Cola designing their name in a specific font that would have been cast as logotypes for printing purposes. The Coca-Cola logo is a word and therefore originated as an authentic logotype.
From my shelves
But I don’t think the word logotype would have been in common use outside of printing circles in the 19th century, and ordinary people would have referred to anything that was a symbolic representation of a trade, product, organisation, person, as a crest, or a device, or a sign, or a mark, as appropriate. Possibly symbol. You don’t really get the catch-all word “logo” until major advertising takes off in the early 20th century. And as you say, it was probably the abbreviated form of logotype getting into popular use, because these symbols would have been cast as a single block for printing.
I think these days they differentiate between logotype, still basically a word block, and logogram, which is a symbol. The Penguin would be a logogram. Since the company was founded in the 1930s the word used for the symbol would have been logo or logogram.
Well, I found it interesting. I also had to find another way to describe what my character was seeing, because even the self-educated genius, Will Merrit, would not have used the word logogram.
This week’s update: I am now at 55,000 words of ‘Where There’s a Will’ and the story is progressing. For the last three days I have been rereading what I have written so far, and today, I’ll be moving forward again, having checked up on myself. This is one of those mysteries with lots of detail, some of which isn’t relevant (to the mystery) but which act as red herrings, and I need to be sure that a) there aren’t too many, and b) those that are genuine clues are pointed enough to remain in the memory without overpowering it.
What I mean: When laying down a clue for the detective to pick up on later, like when laying down the foundations of what will become the smoking gun, it’s important to ensure the evidence has been presented in a plausible but not over-obvious way.
There is an old thriller writing saying which goes something like: Don’t mention a revolver unless you intend to use it. In other words, if you introduce something big, make sure there’s a reason for it. So, in ‘Where There’s a Will’, I have several incidents from the characters’ pasts which either have to be relevant to the plot generally or important to the mystery specifically. Some of these ideas pop into my head as I am writing, and thus, get added into the story. Later, I might discover that they didn’t run, or they led nowhere, and interesting as they are, and relevant though they seemed at the time, they are now just clutter and have to go.
Which is what I have been doing these past few days. Now, I am about to leap back into chapter 18, which is a little over halfway, when the mystery has just kicked up a gear. I need to devise my next cryptic clue, put in some more backstory to deepen suspicion and have my cast prepare for a storm, both meteorological and metaphoric.
Red Herring. According to Study.com, The term ”red herring” comes from an article written by a journalist in 1807. He described a likely fictional story in which he used a red herring (a smoked herring) to distract a dog from a hare. The term caught on from there.
The smoking gun. The phrase originally came from the idea that finding a very recently fired (hence smoking) gun on the person of a suspect wanted for shooting someone would in that situation be nearly unshakable proof of having committed the crime. (Wiki.)
Or, as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle put it in ‘The Adventure of the Gloria Scott’: We rushed on into the captain’s cabin, but as we pushed open the door there was an explosion from within, and there he lay wit’ his brains smeared over the chart of the Atlantic which was pinned upon the table, while the chaplain stood with a smoking pistol in his hand at his elbow.
A selection of Historical Fiction on Kindle Unlimited – the promo runs all month
I am currently writing ‘Where There’s a Will’, the Delamere Series book four, and have just written a chapter involving a lighthouse. This reminded me of another of my older, stand-alone novels which also features a lighthouse.
“Let us go then you and I, to the place where the wild thyme grows.”
An inheritance, a ring and a church organ; three clues to the Blake family mystery. Twenty-five and fleeing a stale relationship, Ryan Blake returns home to find some answers. What he discovers is the impish twenty-two-year-old, Charlie Hatch, a homeless scamp who has a way with words, a love of mysteries, and a very cute arse. As the two set about unlocking the Blake family secrets, Ryan finds himself falling for the younger guy. But is he ready to commit again? And can Charlie learn to accept that someone loves him?
The lighthouse is where the climax of the story happens, the unlocking of the mystery and where the two main characters get a little closer – as far as I remember. It’s been a while since I read it. It’s a mystery set in the present day and concerns two guys from the same town and school. One of them, Charlie, is fond of mixing his quotes, hence the line:
“Let us go then you and I, to the place where the wild thyme grows.”
This one is a mix of TS Eliot (The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock):
Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table;
And Shakespeare, (A Midsummer Night’s Dream):
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Charlie comes out with others throughout the book, but not relentlessly, because I couldn’t think of that many good ones. I think there’s something like ‘Come into my parlour said the owl to the pussycat,’ or similar in there somewhere. I wanted to make Charlie quirky (maybe even a bit creepy at times), and Ryan, far more sensible and grown up for his age.
Pleasingly, I received good feedback about this standalone, with some people asking if I was going to create a series with these two characters investigating other mysteries. I started writing a book two, but didn’t feel it had legs. (Not long after, I started on Deviant Desire, and that world and those characters certainly had/have legs. Three series, a total of 21 books with another one on the way.) ‘Blake’ has received some negative stars – there’s someone who invariably gives my books only one star, usually only half an hour after I post the new title, which makes me suspect, they didn’t buy it. But there have also been some good reviews, including:
“This is an amazing piece of writing which has everything in it.”
“I just finished reading this book. I just wouldn’t put it down until I finished it.”
“The more I read, the more I was gripped.”
Maybe those words were about one of my others, as this is very much an ‘early work,’ and tbh, I write much better prose these days. Still, it sells copies now and then, it’s a sweet little romance with an intriguing mystery, and it’s all yours for as little as $3.99 -= or ‘free’ on Kindle Unlimited.
I have a novel in a promo that’s running from 20th March to 24th April, so there’s plenty of time for you to browse the books on offer. As this promo is very clearly Best Friends to Lovers, I’ve put in my ‘The Students of Barrenmoor Ridge.’ This is a YA tale, mainly, about two BFs going hiking together, getting into trouble and needing the help of characters you may have met in ‘The Mentor of Barrenmoor Ridge.’ (It doesn’t matter if you haven’t, you can still enjoy The Students of…) The promo is for all levels of ‘heat,’ so you never know what you might find.
To explore more, simply click the link and take a look at the many books on offer. Click a cover to find more info (and get me brownie points for sharing), and enjoy discovering new authors and titles.
While you are merrily clicking things, click on my Jackson March Amazon page and in the next few days you will see you can download or order the next Delamere Files novel, ‘Follow the Van.’ As I write this, I am just waiting for the last of the files to come through from my design team, and then I can upload everything and publish the book. I’m hoping to do this on my birthday next Tuesday.
Here’s the blurb to keep you going, and if you want to see the full cover before the book is published, click the link at the end of this page.
Follow the Van The Delamere Files book three
Success in this business isn’t about what you know, it’s about what you don’t know.
When the eligible Eddy Hawkstone enlists Jack Merrit’s services to recover a stolen book, it seems like a straightforward task. However, the clues lead Jack into the turbulent world of the music hall, where he uncovers the unnerving tale of his father’s death at the feet of Marie Lloyd.
Desperate to prove himself to his mentor, Jimmy Wright, Jack finds himself entangled in a web of sexual temptation, loyalty, and fraternal bonds, all while grappling with his emotions for Larkin Chase.
To triumph, Jack must confront the shadows of his past and embrace the realities of the present. The path is fraught with danger and self-discovery and leads him to a twisting theatrical climax worthy of a melodrama.
Follow the Van is the third book in the Delamere Files series. The books should be read in order.
And now the cover… Another triumph from Andjela, click the Merrit brothers to see the full cover of Follow the Van which you can start reading in the next couple of days.
Today, I thought I’d put up the first paragraph(s) of each of the Clearwater Mysteries, plus a link to the book’s Amazon page. If the series is new to you, you can find out some more info about each book from The Clearwater Mysteries page, and the link is in the menu.
First, here’s a reminder of a promo that’s running via Book Funnel. Historical mystery, action, adventure, and a few select titles and authors you may not have tried before. Click the pic to see the full list.
And now, the opening chapters of each of the 11 Clearwater books starting with the prequel (which isn’t really a mystery).
Andrej
Late summer, 1881 Serbka, Ukraine
Andrej waited until the darkest hour before he untied his wrists with his teeth, and freed his feet from the knots. Leaving the children to their troubled dreams, he slipped silently from beneath the cart, and crawled towards the older men and widows sleeping beneath the trees. Alert, he fixed his eyes on Blumkin. The man had taken his knife, and Andrej was not leaving without it.
Silas Hawkins was searching for coins in an East End gutter when a man four miles distant and ten years older sealed his fate. Silas had no idea that the discussion taking place concerned him, or that it was even happening. He wouldn’t know the details for some time, but even if he had heard the conversation, he wouldn’t have believed it. It wouldn’t have concerned him if he had, because Silas wasn’t the kind of youth to shy from a challenge, not even one that might threaten his life.
James Joseph Wright was born on January 10th, 1863 at the precise moment the world’s first underground train delivered its passengers to Farringdon station. As the locomotive puffed and fumed from the tunnel, James’s mother, some four miles distant, puffed and fumed through her own first delivery.
The Times, Thursday, December 1st, 1888 Opera House Gala
Famed countertenor, Mr Cadwell Roxton is to make his debut appearance at the Opera House in “Aeneas and Dido”, an acclaimed if unusual work by Austro-German composer, Johann Bruch. Mr Roxton was the sensation of the 1887 Paris season, following that triumph with another in Leipzig the subsequent spring. His debut at our opera house this month will herald the beginning of what this publication hopes will be an illustrious career on the opera stage for a countryman returning home from his studies after training in the conservatoires of Europe.
On the night of December 17th, 1888, a stinging north wind buffeted the city forcing all but the bravest to stay in their homes. Whether that home was a dosshouse in the East End or a villa abutting Saint Matthew’s Park, whatever protection could be found from shutters and curtains was employed to keep back the icy blasts. The day dawned with a silvery sky, but the weak winter sun stood no chance against the mass of heavy cloud that rolled in from the north to swamp the entire country before delivering, in parts, blankets of snow and ice. By the evening, livestock had frozen in their stables, the mainline railways became impassable, and in the darker, unwanted parts of the city, thirty-two deaths occurred before nightfall “From ill weather”.
Folkestone Harbour, April 1889
As he waited for his visitor to arrive, Benjamin Quill squinted at the society pages of the national newspaper with his one good eye. It was an edition from the previous week, but he didn’t require the news to be up to date, knowing that once such an announcement was made, it would remain unchanged, barring serious accident or death. Last year, he had suffered the former, and that had led him to plan the latter. Not his own death, of course, and not that of Clearwater, that delight would come in time.
London, July 1889
Henry Beddington had served as the concierge at the National Gallery since 1865 and took great pride in the fact that, despite the large number of visitors passing through its doors each day, there had never been any trouble in his foyer. Keeping watch over the entrance from his counter on a sunny morning in July, he had no reason to suspect that today would be any different.
27th July 1889. Kingsclere House,Hampshire
Jasper Blackwood’s life changed beyond recognition on the morning of 27th July 1889. The previous night, he had gone to bed unaware of correspondence exchanged between a viscount and a footman, a butler and a housekeeper. As he fell exhausted onto his straw mattress in his basement anteroom, he fully expected to wake at six, and set about the next day’s duties exactly as he had performed every day for the last seven years. It was not to be.
Clearwater House, London September 1889
Jasper’s eyes were on the clock while his hands frantically polished Lord Clearwater’s riding boots, but his mind was on Billy and an organ recital. Beyond the boot room, the clattering in the kitchen told him Mrs Roberts was rushing to stock the pantry and fill the cold shelves, the persistent clip of Harvey’s shoes passing back and forth told him the cases were coming down to the coach, and a proclamation from Mr Payne left no doubt there were only fifteen minutes left before the viscount was due to leave. Throwing down the buffing cloth, he carried the now gleaming boots into the servants’ passage in time to meet Harvey returning from the yard.
The Pall Mall Gazette, Fourth Edition December 4th, 1889
THE INFLUENZA EPIDEMIC. Two London Cases.
Thousands of sufferers in Berlin.
Something very like the influenza epidemic which is raging in St. Petersburg has now spread to Berlin, and thousands are down with it. The epidemic is (a Helsingfors telegram says) still spreading. Everybody one meets has either had or is expecting to succumb to the malady. Editors apologise for the delay in issuing their newspapers, and the scanty news in them. Letters remain undelivered, the postmen being sick. Offices are closed for want of clerks. The illness is preceded by two or three days of lassitude. Then fever breaks out at half an hour’s notice, and increases rapidly for six or eight hours, and is accompanied by delirium, headache, a swelling sensation in the joints, irritation of the throat, pain in the limbs, and a teasing cough.
Rasnov Castle, Transylvania
January 1890
Snow whipped the ancient fortification, caught in the vicious gusts of an unforgiving north wind. Stolen from the pine forests and thrown across the plain, it swirled against the castle walls where it collected in fissures and made its home, there to wait for spring before releasing its glacial grip. Some gathered in the arrow slits and window recesses, clinging to the bars and caking the shutters. Flurries torn from the masonry were buffeted to the roof, coating the tiles in peaks as jagged as the surrounding Carpathians, and some found their way through the rotting wood and mortar cracks to dust the sills and embrasures.
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