What’s in a name….reprise….

A couple of months ago, a call was put out for snippets of poetry which Michele could use as starting points for jewellery design. She received many interesting suggestions, even though one or two were deemed, on reflection, not quite the selling point she was looking for (hands up who suggested Rimbaud’s “red torment”….)

Nevertheless, she had much to work with, and after fulfilling some commissions, she’s finally produced some pieces based on suggestions received. You can see pictures here, here and here. (The second & third links are to sales sites; looking without buying is, however, tolerated….)

More pieces in this vein are planned, I understand. Meanwhile, many thanks to all those who suggested poetic inspiration.

‘Tec tonics….

“The detective novel is the art-for-art’s-sake of our yawning Philistinism, the classic example of a specialized form of art removed from contact with the life it pretends to build on.” V.S.Pritchett

Ever wanted to write a whodunnit but found that your intended sleuth’s idiosyncrasies (for idiosyncrasies he – even, these days, conceivably she – must have) have already been pre-plagiarised? It’s tricky to find a niche that hasn’t already been stuffed with blood-stained corpses and dysfunctional ‘tecs. From mediaeval monasteries to contemporary colleges, any institution worth its salt must have on its roster some quirky soul with a backstory which allows him not only arcane knowledge denied to the usual authority figures, but also interesting faults just sufficient to hinder without totally preventing his solving of The Mystery.

Let’s not kid ourselves: the spoof list of Rather Daft Detective Ideas will have been done many times before….and I’d be surprised if the late Miles Kington hasn’t done his fair share….which lo and behold google confirms….nevertheless….whither the whodunnit….?

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Police in Stickshire are baffled by the seemingly unconnected deaths of three consecutive Chief Constables in their HQ on the same day (this being one county where the Appointments Committee is more than efficient)….the senior officer in charge doesn’t waste time investigating the deaths himself, instead standing at the main entrance scrutinising passers-by in a hopeful search for the senile old lady who can crack the cases….

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Dysfunctional ‘tecs are two a penny – until you read about Coma ‘Tec, the ultimate dysfunctional sleuth….suffering multiple organ failure and on life support in a hospital bed, unable to communicate, his mind is free to analyse each apparently insignificant clue and to find the connections which will crack the case….at least, that’s what his team hopes as they organise a rota to dictate their findings to him….

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A locked room is discovered which may or may not contain a dead body….Chief Inspector Schroedinger is undecided whether or not a crime has even been committed….

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A dead bee is found, disturbing the calm of the beehive. Inspector Busby investigates. Beefore long she has discovered a web of deceit and opened a can of worms. No flies on her though, so waspishly she earwigs on the colony. Something bugs her about this case; an atmosphere of pure weevil pervades. It’s just not cricket….

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The bodies of two elderly men are found swinging from a tree. Detective Superintendent Godot is assigned to the case; don’t hold your breath….

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An extremely gloomy Swedish Police Inspector spends six hundred pages solving a simple murder case. Every detail of the investigation is painstakingly set out…. Note: for extra verisimilitude and gloominess, this book, although originally written in English, has been translated into some Scandinavian language or other and then retranslated back into English….

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Chief Inspector Felix is called in to investigate the brutal murder of a dog. But he can’t be arsed and curls up in front of the fire and goes to sleep….

Nobel, here I come….

I’m gonna be a novelist and set the world alight,
Then sit and watch the royalties accrue.
It’s not as if there’s anything to learn before you write;
It’s surely something anyone can do.

It’s not like proper working, where you’ve got a boss to please,
And must clock in at eight-thirty on the dot.
If I want I’ll spend the day “researching“, viewing endless sleaze,
Or plan the colour scheme for my first yacht.

OK, I haven’t got a subject and I’ve yet to pick a style,
But within each man, they say, a novel’s found.
I’ll just wing it as I go along, I know I’m versatile,
And the words I write will surely be profound.

Amis has the genes and young McEwan’s done that course;
But really there’s no substitute for talent;
If you’ve got it you can write, all you do is tap the source,
The rest are hacks (much as it pains to be ungallant.)

Still, I have some sympathy for those who can’t produce a book;
It must be hell to be a failure and to know it:
I doubt I could continue if my writing didn’t hook;
Although I could if all else fails become a poet….

Breathing space….

Time for a few cheerful pics, I suggest….

Isn’t this a stunning colour? It’s a tiny autumn crocus (not a colchicum, a genuine crocus), sadly not terribly robust on our soggy soil, but it did put on a show for one year before succumbing….

Bumble bee on a dahlia….don’t ask me which bee or which dahlia….

Peacock butterfly on a pink rudbeckia….and another bumble bee….

Painted Lady butterfly on an annual everlasting….cheap and cheerful annuals, but good value in late summer….

Tulipa acuminata….one of my favourite tulips….but Michele doesn’t like it….

A little spring cutie….Dodacatheon meadia alba….next to a thuggish Trillium….

A picture taken by Michele a few days ago….Prunus “Shirotae” in full bloom….

How it is now….anyone fancy a spot of weeding….?