Now here is a set of observations that you might like to spin into a mystery story. The things I saw and heard on Friday morning are worthy of an Anne Zouroudi novel.

We were out for our morning walk/jog at six. It’s getting to the time where we will have to consider moving things back to 5.30, the sun is already up at six and things are starting to get hot. We headed up the road, past the doctor’s surgery outside of which is parked a motor bike and a hospital bed, with a rock where a pillow would be. (Could that be a clue?) On up the hill and there to turn off at the Agia Marina cemetery.

The greave diggers were at work. I didn’t stop to browse, but one guy was dragging the earth from a grave (it looked like) while the other was randomly spraying something from a canister into the hole. I am guessing here, but they were possibly freeing up the plot, moving the bones to the ossuary and getting this one ready for the next occupant. But, on up the hill, past the barking dog, towards To Vrisi.

After passing the same goatherd for the third day in a row (on two different routes), we reached that day’s target and paused for some water while taking in the sunrise over the village and over Pedi, where there were a few boats in. And then back down the hill, at a slightly faster pace, with an eye on the old knees, and past the yapping dog (the goatherd had vanished) and past the gravediggers, one of whom had also disappeared, the other one was still raking away, and past the lady putting flowers on another grave. And from there onto the road and towards home.

Okay, back to home and a shower and down to work at the desk with the window open, overlooking the way into Symi harbour. From up here I hear the island ambulance siren, a rare sound but an unmistakable one. A little later and I’m getting on quite nicely with a chapter when I am suddenly brought down to earth by the sound of the Blue Star blasting its horn, up close and a little too personal. That comes in and does its thing and then it starts to head out again. At this point there are death bells ringing somewhere, probably for a memorial service as they are being rung in the morning. But, it’s not impossible that it was a funeral, through very early in the day – they are usually later in the morning, I’ve noticed. And then the Blue Star blasts it horn several more times as it is leaving, which is very unusual.

So, you have the hospital bed and the rock, the gravediggers, the missing goatherd, the lady in the cemetery, the ambulance siren, the death bells and the unusual behaviour of the ferry. Put it all together and what do you get? No, what do YOU get? I’m already working on a comedy and am close to finishing the first draft so don’t want to get put off track. I’ll leave it to you to make up the story for this one. And if you need more inspiration I suggest the Anne Zouroudi Greek Detective series from Bloomsbury. You can find all the titles listed here: Anne Zouroudi at Amazon.  Have a fun weekend working on your first mystery story!

Here are two more pics from Friday morning.

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Three things arrived in the post yesterday one of which carried a bonus. One was the Instrumental Works by my favourite artists The Alan Parsons Project  which I’d been after for a while. That’s going to be on the CD player later. (Note: get a CD player – we’re using a DVD machine at the moment and you can’t see the display.)

The second thing to arrive was the proof copy of ‘Lonely House.’ I’ve already been through the text on Kindle and made notes of a few final tweaks, but now I need to compare those notes to the book, find the exact page and paragraph and then send that to the editor to deal with. Then, when a new PDF comes back in a few days, I should be able to make the book Live on Amazon and then on Kindle too. So, some work to do on that lies ahead.

Which puts me back a few days on ‘Straight Swap’ as I am now reaching the crisis point of that story where everything has to start to unfold and iron out. We are one day before the live TV broadcast of ‘So you think we’re remotely interested?’ the nation’s newest virtually heightened reality TV talent show streaming live each week from a different provincial theatre. (A long title that is cut down to ‘Remotely’ for ease.) This week sees the finale from Middlestone-on-sea down on the Kent coast where the whole thing hangs on the appearance of two ex-best friends who have, magically, swapped bodies and who, for the last three years, have not even spoken to each other. Many more plot lines are also gathering to come home to roost in the final 30,000 words or so. But first I have two big scenes to write down, and my aim was to get them done by Sunday.

Meanwhile, the outside table has just had another coat of paint and now looks even more shiny and blue/green. It should be perfect for the BBQ we are having on Saturday. Meanwhile, meanwhile, Neil and I went up to To Vrisi again yesterday morning, with pictures today to show for it, including the traffic jam encountered en route. After that unnecessary exercise, Neil high tailed it down to his aerobics class while I went to work.

And when he came back he brought the third thing to arrive in the post, another Alan Parsons Project CD to add to the collection, and this one is called ‘Edgar Allen Poe’, a musical by Eric Woolfson. And this was the bonus: A guy called David Burt also sings on this. I saw him in loads of shows in the West End and thought he had a great voice. So I am really looking forward to hearing this CD, something I will probably do later today. I need to get on with ‘Lonely House’ first though as I know everyone is waiting for a bit of thriller/horror to read.

By the way, I don’t only read and write horror and listen to musicals based on probably the best ‘horror’ writer of our time, I do also like nice things. Only the other night I watched a film about a shark on the rampage in an Australian shopping centre. And that was followed by one about a group of people trying to protect their tower block from aliens. All perfectly rational and ‘every day.’

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Today’s photos show the military helicopter coming in to land on Symi. It was V.E. Day yesterday and here that’s marked by a commemoration of the signing of the surrender of the Dodecanese and the handover to Greece – via British caretakers.

I’m not hanging about long this morning as in want to get on. I’ve had a slough of writing to get through, which I am almost through and I could do with a break. So today I am not working and instead I will be tidying the house, hoovering, getting the cat fur off the sofa (approx. 30 minutes with the hoover), shopping, cooking and later entertaining at home.

But during that time I may take a moment to sit on the balcony and read my latest book, The Etymologicon, by Mark Forsyth. This is actually book one of three which I bought in a box set, hard cover, as a bit of an inexpensive treat to myself. The Etymologicon (a word invented by Milton, along with many others, including ‘wording’) explains how some words came about and how their means and usages changed over the years, so that what was once Codpiece is now a Bracket, and so on. All right up my street.

The second of the trilogy, sorry, Ternion, is The Hologicon and is all about (as far as I can see) obscure words and their meanings, and then there’s the ‘The Elements of Eloquence’ as the third book and I am really looking forward to having a go at that one.

But all in good time, first a day off while I do the housework and shopping and… Oh let’s just get on with it. Back with more Symi news and that from my desk next week.

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It’s Sunday morning and frankly, Cat, I could have done with a few more hours’ sleep, thank you very much. Not everyone wants breakfast at 5.00 a.m. and not everyone wants to revisit your bowl at 6.15 a.m.

But still, I’m up now and at least I can get ahead of myself. I am aiming for 2,500 words per day minimum on the new book, and am managing that so far. It might not sound like a lot (and it isn’t) but after two months that will be 150,000 words, which is plenty for a first draft. I can then revise and rewrite and away we go. I am up to around 40,000 words already. But whether any of them are any good or not… well, that remains to be read.

Before I forget, if you are reading this on Symi, or on your way to Symi today, then there’s a musical treat for you at ‘The Secret Garden’ later this evening, around 21.00: Marcus, George and Terri will be playing guitars and Clare will be singing. Everyone’s welcome.

Back to the story about the story and back to the previous story, Lonely House. My editing meeting was fun last Friday. I’ve not done this ‘show screen’ on Skype before and I expect those who have will roll their eyes and say, ‘Oh, that is sooo last year,’ but it was new to me. Editor and I chatted as if on the phone while looking at the InDesign layout for the book that Editor had prepared. We’d find a widow or an orphan and I’d point to the screen and say, ‘Lose that word there,’ and Editor would say, ‘I can’t see what you’re pointing at malaka,’ and I’d say, ‘There! Where my finger is.’ And he’d say, ‘No, I really can’t see you!’ And I’d remember that he can’t see me so I’d have to say, ‘Third line down…’ and so on.

But we got through six chapters which would have taken us days to do via email. As you slaughter one widow another may be created further along in the chapter, you see. We have booked another session for Tuesday and will aim to get ten chapters done then. Then we will be about half way through the book.

As it’s Sunday today I can’t tell you how the dance show went because that is happening tonight, but I reckon we’ll all be fine. We did some home rehearsal last night to keep the steps in mind and now Neil has a problem with his back. But the show must go on. And it will and I expect there will be photos all over Facebook and some on the blog, if people will let me borrow them, as I won’t be able to take photos of myself in action. That will be the next thing: Selfie-sticks for dancers.

So, on with Sunday: emails to do, shopping to buy, costume to iron, 2,500 words to write, sleep to catch up on, two tap dances to do, perhaps (yet) another dinner at a taverna afterwards, and then to sleep, perchance to be allowed to dream by the cat.

I just wanted to leave you, for no apparent reason, with the old French word equivalent to the current Greek word for various European politicians and money lenders (as used above by the Editor). The word is, ‘Dándiprat’ and Samuel Johnson defines it thus: “[dandin, French] A little fellow; an urchin: a word used sometimes in fondness, sometimes in contempt.” I guess that’s where we get Dandini from (panto, Cinderella).

Have a good day (May the fourth be with you) and here’s wishing you a good week ahead.

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No, you haven’t missed anything, I missed Saturday, ‘no post’, as they sometimes say at the breakfast table. Reason? Well, probably due to a late night on Friday, which was due to live music at ‘the Secret Garden’, and we went there following a tap run-through with the full cast, and that followed on the heels (well, the heel-toes) of a lunch in Yialos, so it was all a rather long day on Friday which led to a long lie in on Saturday.

It’s actually Sunday now, though this isn’t going up until Monday. And the point of today’s post, if there is one, is that I want to copyright a couple of quotes. I’m not sure it’s actually possible to do that but I have been working on a new book and come up with some quotes and I wanted to get them out and ‘published’ before anyone else came up with them, so we’ll know they came from my characters. (Assuming they’ve not been used already.)

Nothing very grand or thought provoking, just a bit of fun. The new novel is a comedy one so when I sit down to write a chapter I have to ‘let myself go.’ Basically just let it pour off the top of my head – though I would have been thinking the chapter through the day before, overnight, or even in my sleep. That’s why, if you see me staring off into space and apparently not listening to you, it’s usually because I am. Not listening I mean. I am trying to, but the scenes and characters in the next chapter are jostling for attention and the brain is trying to figure out a story. I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s how it is when I am in full flow writing mode. And that, after three months of not being able to get down to it, is a very nice thing indeed.

So, yes, I have to sit down, with the chapter point, the ‘POC’ as I call it (the point of the chapter – as every chapter needs to have a point to move the story forward) clear in my head, and then I just let it all hang out, or rather, pour out. I can go back and tidy up the mess later and knock things about, and see where my characters led me while I was doing that stream of consciousness thing. I often find myself heading off in directions that the previous day’s chapter-planning think didn’t take me. That’s always fun.

Anyway, while doing all this, I have also set myself the task in the new book of starting each chapter with a quote. Only one is a real quote, but the others are made up. To use real, real quotes you have to pay people, but I think I am okay with the one from the vicar of Snargate who died in 1845 or something, I think that one is out of copyright. The rest are mine and here are two of my favourites. Actually, the first is Neil’s favourite (he being my first draft test driver has read the work so far) and the second one is my favourite. A brief explanation of each is given:

The story is all about a new reality television show that is all about reviving remote British seaside towns with live variety shows where the local community get together and perform. The show is call ‘So you think we’re remotely interested?’ (Or just ‘Remotely’) and is a big hit. It’s coming to ‘Middlestone on Sea’ (“The beach at Middlestone was once celebrated, but sadly now even the tide has turned against it.” ‘Fading gems of the Kent coast’ – May Godbehere (1900 – 1962)) where the two young (main) characters both hang their hopes and dreams on being ‘discovered’ in the show. One, Gary Scott, is a theatre queen and comes out with: “What is theatre if not life, and what is life if not theatre?” That’s the one Neil liked.

The two main characters dislike each other, and one notes about the hated family next door: “The Hunter family are so in-bred, they don’t have ancestors, they have incestors.” And that’s the one I liked.

Remember you read it here first folks. Have a good day and I’ll be back with more rambles (possibly even about Symi, Greece or something interesting) tomorrow.

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