OF SHOES AND SHIPS AND SEALING-WAX...

OF SHOES AND SHIPS AND SEALING-WAX...

The time has come,' the Walrus said,

      To talk of many things:

Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —

      Of cabbages — and kings —

And why the sea is boiling hot —

      And whether pigs have wings.'

This verse from the wonderful nonsensical Lewis Carroll poem, ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’ has long been a favourite of mine. I started sailing in dinghies when I was 11 years old. My brother had just finished the construction of the first boat he built, a Mirror dinghy. (He has subsequently built several larger craft, including one in which he circumnavigated the world - but that's another story.) He'd met me from Sunday School - I was still wearing my Sunday best - and we'd made our way to Mitchell's boatyard in Poole Harbour, where the dinghy was kept. The boat was launched and I was made to sit on the thwart (seat) amidships and told not to move, only to duck when the boom came across. Thus began my love of boats, the sea and everything connected with them. So, it comes as no surprise that these things feature largely in my crime novels.

The stories are set near the sea and often involve fishermen and boats. In the first two books, BLOOD ON THE TIDE and BLOOD ON THE SHRINE the 'baddies have a boat called MOONSHINE. I'd chosen the name for no other reason than it has connotations of illicit activities. Imagine my surprise when later, after the stories were written, I was mooching around the iconic net sheds at the fishermen's beach in Hastings and saw this, an old photo, framed and displayed on one of the sheds. I had no idea there had actually been a Hastings boat called MOONSHINE. Serendipity or what?!

It was too late to change the name so I hope no one is offended. Here is an extract from BLOOD ON THE SHRINE when the 'baddies' are making their escape.

Salt was doing his best to delay Moonshine’s departure but was struggling to slow it down. ‘Why in such a hurry? The tide’s only just making and there’ll be plenty of water when you get there.’

Dickens continued loosening the ropes. ‘Aye. Just feel it’s best to get under way. Want to take it easy, just to make sure.’

Salt tried one more tack. ‘Might it not be wise to leave it, until you’ve had enough time to check the engine is running all right?’

Dickens paused and listened. ‘Sounds all right to me. I think I’d know if anything was up, don’t you?’ Anxious to start the journey he was beginning to suspect that Salt might be deliberately delaying him. He finished untying the warps, threw the stern line untidily down on to the afterdeck and looped the bowline round the bollard. He jumped down on to the deck, pulled the line in behind him and, with a wave to Salt, began turning the boat. The tide was coming in swiftly and the boat slewed sideways, travelling back up the river, before Dickens got the bow pointing seaward. Even at half throttle Moonshine barely made headway against the current so he gave the engine more revs and she began moving slowly down the estuary, a large bow wave breaking either side of the vessel.

She hadn’t gone more than a couple of hundred yards when Salt heard a car approaching at speed. The Wolseley rocketed over the level crossing - the front bouncing high on its springs - and into the yard, screeching to halt surrounded by a plume of dust. Russell and Beaumont tumbled out and ran to where Salt was standing. ‘Where is she?’

Salt pointed down the channel. ‘There! They’re getting away!’

‘Not if I have anything to do with it! Quick, get Stan. We need to get after them!’ Salt ran to the boatshed while the two policemen climbed down the ladder and into the launch. By the time Stan had joined them, the engine was running and the warps were untied. Moonshine was some distance away and Dickens had obviously opened the throttle fully as she was now creating an even larger bow wave. ‘Can you catch her?’ Russell asked.

‘I’ll give it my best shot,’ Stan said.

‘If Wolfgang’s aboard, I don’t want to lose him again!’

BUDDHA and the art of meditation

BUDDHA

and the art of meditation

For 20 years I practiced as a Buddhist. I meditated regularly at home, took part in weekend retreats and attended meditation groups in a Buddhist retreat centre. Here, I led meditation, going through the process of relaxation and emptying the mind; getting rid of 'the chattering monkeys' or at least learning not to concentrate on them. I wouldn't say I became an experienced meditator but the practice and ethos of Buddhism remains with me.

In my second DI Sonny Russell crime novel much of the action takes place at a Buddhist retreat he is attending. In this extract from BLOOD ON THE SHRINE, a very experienced meditator is found dead. 

If you would like to know more, paperback copies of this book as well as kindle are available on Amazon. (All three books in the series are readily available). 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Chris-ODonoghue/e/B0763S7GKL?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2&qid=1563202932&sr=1-2

‘Do you think he died of natural causes?’ Russell was in the monks’ compact office in their private quarters. He was speaking to John Crooks, the pathologist back in Collinghurst.

          ‘Difficult to say, without being there. Tell me again how you found the poor unfortunate.’

          ‘He was sitting very still, and had been for some hours apparently. He was cross-legged, in the Lotus position, with his hand folded together in his lap. One of the other monks, seeing that the temperature had dropped, had wrapped a blanket round his shoulders. I think there was a sliver of glass caught in the material and when Karunavadra put the blanket round it went into his jugular. What I don’t understand is why he didn’t feel it and react. Instead he just seems to have bled to death.’

‘Did you say he is, or was, a very experienced meditator?’

‘Yes, as far as I can make out he’d been meditating for many years and had perfected the ability to go into a deep, trance-like state.’

Crooks was quiet for a moment and there was just the sound of crackling on the line. Russell was about to speak again when the pathologist answered. ‘Ah … that could be the reason. It is my understanding that through meditation, some yogis are able to reduce heartrate and pulse to such a low level that the body goes into a sort of hibernation. I would imagine that when they are in this state, they can remain unaffected by external conditions or stimuli.’

FLOATING TO WISSANT - a ride in a Citroën DS

FLOATING TO WISSANT

a ride in a Citroën DS

Wimereux

In my 1950s crime novel, BLOOD ON THE TIDE, I describe a journey my detective, DI Sonny Russell, makes with his friend, Inspecteur Guillaume Bruissement in a Citroën DS he has been given on trial. They travel north from Boulogne to Wissant, passing through several villages. I know that part of the coast very well and can confirm that it is a most interesting drive and the villages are well worth exploring. 

"The car all but floated over the rough roads through the town and they were soon out in the countryside. They passed through Wimereux, which showed signs of rebuilding after operation Wellhit in WW2. Then the villages of Ambleteuse, Audresselles and Audinghen before arriving twenty minutes later in the village square of Wissant. To one side was the squat bulk of the 15^th-century church of Saint Nicholas, next to it the WW1 memorial. Nearby was the half-timbered Hotel Normandy and on the other side of the road, a low stone building, with a tractor and substantial wooden fishing boat on a trailer standing outside. ‘That is a flobart, a fishing boat particular to this region,’ Bruissement  explained, as he got out of the car. ‘The tractor takes the boat down to the beach and launches it into the sea. They catch some wonderful fish that are served fresh here in Le Vivier!’ Russell, getting out of the car to stand beside him, smiled."

Ambleteuse - Fort Mahon

Audresselle

We even made up this little rhyme, to the tune of, 'Do you know the muffin man! 

Savez-vous l'homme du moule, l'homme du moule, l'homme du moule.

Savez-vous l'homme du moule, l'homme du moule, l'homme du moule

Qui habite a Audresselles.

Audinghen - church of St Pierre

I'm told the fish is indeed wonderful and fresh (although, like Sonny, I don't eat fish) and the coast has lots of other attractions - sandy beaches, lots of rock pools as well as museums dedicated to WW2. Batterie Todt at Audinghen, housed in a huge German-built blockhouse, has a fascinating collection of artifacts from the period.

Wissant - Le Vivier

The photo above shows one of the traditional Flobart fishing boats outside Le Vivier. Sadly this has gone but I believe the restaurant is as good as ever.

               "‘Ah, I am sorry my friend, you don’t eat fish. I ’ope you don’t mind if I do?’

          ‘Of course not,’ Russell replied. ‘Just as long as I don’t have to.’ His eyes twinkled.

          ‘No, no. I said there would be something special for you.’ The Frenchman was as good as his word. Once seated at a table in the cosy restaurant Russell was presented with a plate of slim asparagus spears, topped with a perfectly poached egg. He was a little baffled by the scattering of dark crumbs on the dish. ‘A-ha!’ said the Frenchman. ‘That is the surprise. Do you know what it is?’ Russell shook his head. ‘Truffles!’ Bruissement announced triumphantly. ‘The patron was out early in the woods and brought them back, just for you. Taste,’ he said, gesturing with his knife.

          Russell lifted a forkful of the egg and truffle to his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. ‘Mmm. Slightly earthy, a little like mushrooms,’ he said reflectively."