Jeff—Saturday

It's been one hell of an interesting week.  Perhaps one day soon I'll get to tell you all about it.  But for now there's no way I dare put pen (or fingers) to paper (or keyboard) lest my current state of mind has me jumping the gun, running amuck, or any number of more literate analogies to counting chickens before they're hatched.  So, instead I offer you this take on where my mind is at the moment...whether I want it to be, or not to be.  [Did you catch that cutesy little word play (so to speak)?  But that's from Hamlet's soliloquy in Act 3, Scene 1 of his eponymous tragedy, and this parody is based upon Macbeth's soliloquy in Act 2, Scene 1 of the play bearing his name.] 

So, with apologies to The Bard (and Caro), I give you the King of Scotland describing my life at the moment:

Is this a blank page which I see before me,

The blog thought toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

To writing as to sight? Or art thou but

A blogpost of the mind, a false creation,

Proceeding from the late-night pressèd brain?

I see thee yet, in form as palpable

As this which now I write.

Thou deceived me the way that I was going,

With such inspiration I was to use.

Mine blog is made the fool o' th' other ones done,

Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still,

And on thy screen and laptop gouts of blood,

Which was not so before. There’s no blog here.

It is the bloody press to write which informs

Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse

The curtained sleep. Witchcraft celebrates

Pale god Poe’s offerings, and withered murder,

Alarmed by his sentinel, the wolf,

Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,

With deadline’s ravishing strides, towards some design

Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,

Hear not my words, which way they speak, for fear

my very stories prate of my runamuck,

And take the present offer from the time,

Which now sits on me. Whiles I write, MIE lives.

Words to the heat of reads too bold breath gives.

And now the original...

Is this a dagger which I see before me,

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but

A dagger of the mind, a false creation,

Proceeding from the heat-oppressèd brain?

I see thee yet, in form as palpable

As this which now I draw.

Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going,

And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o' th' other senses,

Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still,

And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,

Which was not so before. There’s no such thing.

It is the bloody business which informs

Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse

The curtained sleep. Witchcraft celebrates

Pale Hecate’s offerings, and withered murder,

Alarumed by his sentinel, the wolf,

Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,

With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his design

Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,

Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear

Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,

And take the present horror from the time,

Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives.

Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

 –Jeff

The sun has been shining and the situation is’ taps aff’. Tops off I.e. warm enough to remove your shirt.

It didn’t stop raining at all during August and next week, it’s back to normal with warnings of 100 kph winds and torrential rain with risk of flooding, thunder, lightning, pestilence. Fleetwood Mac reforming and lots of other things that shouldn’t happen these days.

I have a deadline for the first of October, and both work and book worlds have been very busy so we took advantage of the fact that the business is not mine anymore and we can get away at any time. We took five days up at Tyndrum where there is nothing to distract me apart from walking the Limpy dog and being amused by the red squirrels.

And, added bonus, it’s quite hard to get on the internet here.  

On day two, it was a record hot day for Crianlarich for September.  The campsite is long, with a single row of 8 bays on either side. It was an old railway siding so the lay out makes sense. At the front door is a trekkers hostel. On one side there are trekkers huts and lodges. On the other just serviced bays for motorhomes and caravans.

Bay one is opposite the toilets. Everything that happens, happens in the vicinity of bay one.

The owner knows us by now and they like dogs, so Mathilda always gets bay 3 which has a lot of grass with a nice height of hedge so that the small red one is not over bothered by other canines or campers frying their dinners over an open flame. She does like to pull her cheeks in and look starved so that she gets tit bits and treats, she is a wee scavenger. Mathilda, Cockroaches and teddy bears are three things that could survive a nuclear winter.

We tend to be the only people who stay here. Most people stop overnight on their way to the Western Isles turn left, or the Great Glen and Skye, turn right. 

This week there has been another van who has stayed for the week- the lady in bay one.

She is not young. She’s recovering from having a knee operation. She’s off her work but the doctor said she could go away in her wee campervan as long as she didn’t overdo it.  She’s parked opposite the toilets and next to the grass used by the small tents of the walkers.

She lies late in the morning and goes for a short walk, then places her deckchair facing the sun – and moves it every hour or so. She dressed in in long shorts and a loose t shirt, and she sits on her chair with a wee table beside her, she has a glass of wine and a pile of books. The level of wine in the glass starts very high and drops, as does the book pile.

Everybody who goes past talks to her.  Mostly asking for the codes for the toilets, where the cold-water tap is.  She says she stays here often, and the recent knee operation had forced her to stay rather than move on. And she’s loving it. She has learned the joy of staying in one place and soaking in the view.  Rather than getting up earlier and having the bay vacated by 11am to move to the next site by 3, here she sits and lets life come to her. She reads, drinks wine and watches, and these last few days, she’s following the sunshine as it moves around her van.

 Tonight, she dressed in her pjs with a large fluffy hoodie on when the sun closed down for the day at about 6 pm. She was outside eating, with her hood up, and I asked her what was for her tea tonight- she said mashed tattie and haggis. And it always tastes better in the fresh air,

On Monday she was reading an autobiography a gardener she likes, - she loves her garden, but it has been a wash out this year. Yesterday it was a thick bodice ripper, today it was a gangland thriller with the typical front cover of a young lady in a red coat and redder lip stick.

Some Dutch bikers were talking to her for half an hour earlier. Now she’s talking to the owner of a Rhodesian ridgeback. One American lady yesterday was waving a map around at her to discuss where was the best place to walk next.  There were lots of pointing north.

The site owner gets updates on who dropped what where and who was responsible for the laughter at 10.05 last night- no noise after 10 pm, and certainly no laughing – we are still very presbyterian.

It’s getting dark now and she’s still sitting out, in her chair, with a blanket wrapped round her, she has as night light and a citronella candle on her wee table to keep the midgies* away.

I think I am going to use her as a role model with the small adjustment of a limpy dog at my feet. 

*The true spelling of Midge, it’s pronounced Midg gy. As in Squidgy.

Now you know.

 Wendall -- every other Thursday

The Nuyina seen from across the Hobart Harbor.

With our generous host, Joe, who even gave us caps to take home!

Antarctic exploration has sparked the imagination of seafarers, scientists, and adventurers for almost 250 years. James Cook first crossed the Antarctic Circle in the HMS Resolution in 1775, and there were sightings and attempts by various whalers and explorers in the 19th century. 

Imagined image from James Cook's southern voyage.

The Southern Cross Expedition, which lasted from 1898 to 1900, wintered at the top of the landmass, and the 20th century brought famous expeditions by first Robert Falcon Scott and then Ernest Shackleton, who reached what they call "Farthest South” in 1909. Shackleton’s 1922 voyage marked the end of the “Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration.” 

Early explorations.

Ernest Shackleton and the Endurance.

Hundreds of trips followed, with various countries vying for sovereignty in the region. Currently (according to Wikipedia. . .) “Antarctica is governed by a group of nations in a one-of-a-kind international partnership called The Antarctic Treaty, which was first signed by representatives from seven countries on December 1, 1959.”  

In terms of where the US fits in, according to the U.S. Department of State: “Seven countries (Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, New Zealand, Norway, and the United Kingdom) maintain territorial claims in Antarctica, but the United States and most other countries do not recognize those claims. While the United States maintains a basis to claim territory in Antarctica, it has not made a claim.”

Map of the four Australian stations and their distance from the mainland.

Many countries beyond the original seven maintain stations in the region, including Australia, which officially has four: Mawson, Davis, Casey, and Macquarie Island. You can find out about the different stations and see photos of each of them here:  https://www.antarctica.gov.au/antarctic-operations/stations/#group

James in front of the previous icebreaker, the Aurora Australis.

These stations have always been serviced by a series of Australian icebreakers. The Nuyina, which replaced the Aurora Australis (1989 to 2021), is the largest, and most sophisticated vessel to date. 

Looking down from midship.

As James writes in the Telegraph, it was “constructed at a cost of $528 million (£271m), and is fitted out with laboratories for biological, meteorological, and oceanographic research, and was named by Australian schoolchildren from the Tasmanian Aboriginal word for Southern Lights.”

And from the dock.

To be honest, the size, scope, and capabilities of this 526 foot long ship completely stunned us during our tour of the ten(!) decks.

The ship is covered in satellite and navigational equipment.

As noted above, the ship has a myriad of duties beyond breaking through the ice to take fuel, food, scientists, and other supplies to its stations. Some researchers and scientists just go along for the ride, using onboard labs for their experiments. 

The "Moon Pool" -- for letting water into the ship for testing.

The ship is designed to test and sound the waters as they go south, keeps track of the ice pack, is a launchpad for helicopters (it can hold three), and has a full clinic and surgery area, a mess hall, and a cinema for the crew. It also is fully equipped to perform its own repairs. 

It is also sometimes called upon for rescue operations. 

In 2023, Joe was part of a medi-rescue from the Casey station which involved heading “South” in winter, a brutally cold and dangerous time when they’re usually safe in dock. If you’d like to read about the rescue, you can find it here:  https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/sunday-life/news/tasmanian-angels-belfast-man-helps-rescue-researcher-from-icy-antarctica/a380485721.html

The helipad, for launching transport - and rescues.

 The boat is full of every manner of ropes. I found them absolutely gorgeous. 

 

Looking up towards the top of the ship. Note the huge crane in front.

Loved this view.

Crew suits are hung on "suitwarmers."

Another view from one of the lower decks.

Great view out of the "operational headquarters."

James in the captain's chair.

They even have a section that swings out, for whale watching!

It was an extraordinary day and if you’d like to follow the ship’s journeys when she’s at sea, there’s a live webcam here:

https://www.antarctica.gov.au/antarctic-operations/webcams/rsv-nuyina/

 Wed--Kwei

As I prepare for tonight's signing of The Whitewashed Tombs at Vroman's, Pasadena, the real-life stories that inspired the novel weigh on my mind. The Whitewashed Tombs deals with the murder of an LGBTQ activist in Ghana, a tale rooted in the harsh realities many still face today.

Yesterday, I conducted a video WhatsApp interview with Hamza, a young man living in Accra, Ghana, who survived a brutal assault because of his perceived identity. The episode was posted to Facebook. His story of resilience amidst fear and violence resonates deeply with the novel's themes, where truth is often buried under layers of hypocrisy and hate. As we reflect on these realities in fiction and life, Hamza’s story is a powerful reminder of the ongoing struggle for justice and dignity.

Hamza  (Image altered by AI for his protection)

Chris Brookmyre won the 2024 McIlvanney Prize for his outstanding meta-fiction mystery THE CRACKED MIRROR (Bloody Scotland/Colin Hattersley)

Craig every second Tuesday

Kia ora and gidday everyone,

Well it's been a rather whirlwind week or so, full of bookish goodness. While I sadly couldn't make it across to Bouchercon in Nashville this year, and had to watch along from afar, last weekend I got to revisit possibly my favourite festival of all, Bloody Scotland! Held each year in historic Stirling, a small city in the heart of Scotland, an hour or so outside of each of Edinburgh and Glasgow, Bloody Scotland is a tremendous annual gathering celebrating superb Scottish and international crime and thriller writing. 

I've had the pleasure and privilege of being involved each year over the last decade - in fact my very first weekend in the UK in 2014 was spent at Bloody Scotland! I was so warmly welcomed by everyone there, catching up with a few authors I'd interviewed in New Zealand, or by phone over the years, or at my one prior overseas festival at Harrogate in 2012, and making so many new friends and contacts who've played such an impactful role in my life in the UK the last ten years. So Bloody Scotland has always been special to me. 

A legal eagles panel at 2015 Bloody Scotland, my first UK chairing gig where I chatted with lawyer-novelists Neil White, Jeffrey Siger, and Steve Cavanagh

Each year is different of course, with various highlights, favourite moments, and events. Things evolve and change, and Bloody Scotland has grown massively since I was there as 'media' in 2014, only the third festival, and back again as a panel chair in 2015 (including a lawyers-turned-crime writers panel with Murder is Everywhere's Jeffrey Siger and then rookie author Steve Cavanagh), and then returning every year since. I understand this year was the biggest year ever in terms of tickets sales and turnouts, and it was fantastic to see the Albert Halls and other venues packed once more, back to pre-COVID levels (and beyond) for the likes of Ann Cleeves and other big stars of the genre. 

Along with catching up with crime fiction pals and having an inspiring weekend full of creativity and craic, I was really looking forward to this year's Bloody Scotland for several reasons, including that I'd had to cancel trips to some other festivals this year, that I always enjoy visiting Scotland, and that several cool New Zealand and Australian authors were coming over specifically for Bloody Scotland, including good pals Chris Hammer, Michael Bennett, and Vanda Symon, and cool Aussie author Benjamin Stevenson who I'd yet to meet in person. Combined with a few UK and Europe-based Aussies and Kiwis, it was quite the antipodean crew in Stirling this year!

Rather than me jabbering on, here's a wee photo essay of some of last weekend's happenings, onstage and off:

Fantastic to welcome fellow antipodeans, Bloody Scotland first-timers, and fantastic authors Vanda Symon, Michael Bennett, Benjamin Stevenson, and Chris Hammer

Festival director Bob McDevitt with a member of the pipe band who were part of opening night festivities, following the awarding of this year's McIlvanney Prize

The Wickedest Link game show entertained on Friday night, cut-throat quizzing with stars Chris Brookmyre, Elly Griffiths, Lilja Sigurðardóttir, Marion Todd, Craig Robertson, Mark Billingham, Tony Kent, Vanda Symon and Vaseem Khan.

Three outstanding storytellers who are helping evolve and diversify the crime and thriller genre we love: Vaseem Khan, Michael Bennett, and Abir Mukherjee

Me with Scottish reviewer Louise Fairbairn, who I got to present with a special limted-edition tee given her recent service as a Ngaio Marsh Awards judge

Visiting Māori author Michael Bennett getting to see British newspaper article on his Spitfire pilot father in the green room

Bloody Scotland co-founder Alex Gray showcasing some terrific fresh voices in crime writing, including Kiwi author Tom Baragwanath (PAPER CAGE)

Our Kiwi Crime panel on Saturday afternoon with Vanda Symon and Michael Bennett was really informative and lots of fun in front of a large, enthusiastic audience

One of my fave things about festivals is the spontaneous hang-outs and meals with various people. We had a fab dinner full of laughs and inspiring chat on Saturday with a multi-national crew: Emma Styles, Ajay Chowdhury, Michael Bennett, myself, Vanda Symon, Chris Hammer, Louise Fairbairn, and DV Bishop

Given global spread (four continents) we rarely have many Ngaios judges in same room. Thanks to Bloody Scotland here's four past-present judges (me, Louise, Ayo Onatade, Jacky Collins) with Ngaios winners DV Bishop and Michael Bennett

Emma Styles and I taking first-timers Michael Bennett and Tom Baragwanath on an early morning exploration of historic Stirling (Stirling Castle in background)

Whakataukī of the fortnight: 

Inspired by Zoe and her 'word of the week', I'll be ending my fortnightly posts by sharing a whakataukī (Māori proverb), a pithy and poetic thought to mull on as we go through life.

“Nāu te rourou, nāku te rourou ka ora ai te iwi”

(with your basket and my basket, the people will thrive)