Missed the anniversary by a few days, (august 20 or so), but Linux is 25!
We’ve used it since 1995. It forms the backbone of the internet – even Microsoft’s cloud computing and web services run on Linux.
Month: August 2016
Amelia’s latest
Another installment of our work. Exploring writing horror. It’s harder than regency romance. If we put together all the stuff we’ve deleted on the way, it would be 70,000 words. As it is, 36000 right now.
The Art of Deception 29
The Art of Deception
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week Lucy received an invitation to go for a ride. In a 1920’s gangster book that would seem a tad sinister, but this is just on horses, properly chaperoned, and to a civil war monument. They’ve decided this is an excellent opportunity for Miss Aldershot to investigate the men’s rooms at the Pelican. Unfortunately, Mr Stanton is ill, the sausage having disagreed with him.
Alice’s frustration with her horse showed, “I see these are gentle beasts, suitable for young ladies and other invalids.”
Edward smiled, “It will leave us with the time for conversation, and I should never forgive myself if Miss Haytor’s mount should bolt.”
“Thank you for considering my comfort.”
“These slugs, bolt? Not likely.” Alice was still not amused with the horses; her mare spotted a stray cur and sidled with a loud snort of displeasure; she pulled its reins and the horse quieted, “At least this one shows a little spirit.” She glanced at the groom, “but no manners.”
He ignored her.
After they had ridden off, a plainly dressed, middle-aged woman left the Christopher, bound for the Pelican; on the way she passed a rather good looking, similarly disguised, man heading the opposite direction; neither one of them noticed the other.
Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.
My apologies for creative punctuation.
Having women ride astride is a very common error in historical films. Women generally rode sidesaddle. There were practical reasons for this as what the English call “pants” weren’t worn by the gentle gender. They did have leggings and stockings, but wore something closer to a suspender belt than modern undergarments. (for what it’s worth men wore something much like a cross between modern swimming trunks and “boxers”, with a drawstring and without the mesh inside.) Personally, the few times I’ve been on horseback I’ve been very glad to have both feet in stirrups and being able to grab the horses’ back between my knees. I can’t imagine what it was like to sit sideways. The young lady in the cartoon is “fast” and the Tar knows it. The featured image shows what could be done, if you had the guts. (If you look carefully, she’s raised from the seat and having significant “air time!”)
Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.
I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere 
This is a fun read.
Frankenkitty is available.
What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstien’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.
The Art of Deception 28
The Art of Deception
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week the two men discussed Lucy and Alice as they trudged back to the Pelican for a supper of dubious sausages washed down with excellent beer. Their discussion has borne fruit this week when Lucy receives an invitation for an excursion.
A message awaited Miss Haytor when she awoke Tuesday, “Mr Spode invites her and a companion, to ride with him and Mr Stanton; perhaps to see the Grenville monument, but certainly to take some exercise in the fresh air, away from the smells and smoke of Bath.”
“Could we?”
Miss Aldershot studied Lucinda, “What else does it say?”
“Merely that if riding were out of the question, he could hire a chariot; failing that, he’d meet us at the Bath; I should so like to ride.”
She stalled for time to think, “What do you think Alice?”
“It would get the two of them away from the Pelican; I’d be happy to, um, investigate their rooms while they are … detained by other activities.”
Martha smiled, “That is an idea, but no; I think it best, Alice, that I investigate your friends; you’ll enjoy the ride far more than I ever could and that dashing Mr Stanton won’t be tempted to cry off if you’re there.”
“If you insist.”
“I do, besides people are far less likely to remember a frumpy old maid poking around the Pelican than a pretty young thing like you.”
Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.
My apologies for creative punctuation.
Sir Bevill Grenville fought for the royalists at the battle of Landsdown during the English civil war. The parliamentarian army camped on the hill overlooking Bath. Sir Bevill died, leading his regiment of Cornish pikemen, in fierce hand to hand combat. Unfortunately, for the royalists that is, they lost. This battle was one of several turning points in the civil war. Had the royalists won, they would have held onto the southwest. His good friend, the poet William Cartwright – who would also die fighting for the royal side, wrote the elegy that is inscribed on the column.
This was not Nature’s courage nor that thing,
We valour call which Time and Reason bring,
But a diviner fury fierce and high,
Valour transported into Ecstasy.
Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.
I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere This is a fun read.
Frankenkitty is available.
What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstien’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.
A household tip (from the UK).
Nothing profound in this one, not even a pretty picture.
One difference between the UK and the land of the free is the use of body wash instead of soap. It’s actually a European trend that has gradually spread west. Darn EU. Body wash is sort of like shampoo, but uses coarser detergents (typically Sodium Lauryl Sulfate or Sodium Dodecyl Sulfate) and has fewer conditioners and scents.
In the UK I’m partial to the cheapest Tesco value product (blue coloured and 50p a bottle). A bottle lasts my boys and me almost two weeks, which is pretty good value (my wife still prefers soap). This time, after returning to the USA, I tried to find a similar product. Ivory makes one that’s 97 cents at Walmart.
You may ask “So what?”
It turns out the detergents are excellent at lifting soap scum. Soaps are sodium and potassium salts of organic acids – for example Sodium Laurate. As such they form coordination complexes with ions in the water, especially calcium, which precipitate into a hard, insoluble and scummy substance. It’s a real nuisance. The sulfate-based detergents don’t do this, and even better solubilize the scum.
Gear review, trail runners and the Talon 44.
You may have noticed some of the pictures I’ve posted. At least I hope you have. Most are not from places you can easily drive to.
The road on this Welsh mountain isn’t for cars. Not even those little tiny ones they drive too fast and on the other side of the road in the UK.
This view, on the AT in North Carolina, isn’t on the road either.
So I tend to walk. Which means I wear shoes. I used to wear hiking boots.
These are Merrell bare access 4 trail runners. Ones that happen to be used and peat-stained. It doesn’t look quite as pretty as the catalog image. I’ll typically wear only a thin pair of liner socks. There are two approaches to keeping dry feet. Do and don’t. In reasonable 3-season hiking the best approach is to let your feet get wet and then wear gear that dries quickly. These are laced with a “heel lock” which holds them on tightly without requiring extraordinarily tight lacing. It also means that the backs of the shoes don’t wear out and break down. Most trail runners wear out quickly, so I only wear these for walking. They have a thin vibram sole. Mine don’t slip when they’re wet, which is good. Not just good but necessary. The thin sole is a blessing and a curse. You can feel your way, it’s almost barefoot. It also means you can feel sharp rocks and gravel.
After a good few kilometres, I strongly recommend them.
I also need a pack. My trusty REI flash 50 finally bit the dust after several years of hard service. I thought very hard about replacing it with a Gossamer gear or similar ultralight pack. (I have and love a Mariposa plus.) 
Several things made me choose the Osprey Talon 44. It’s made of tougher fabric, it has a top pocket with a key holder, it easily meets airline carry on restrictions, there’s a semi-hidden pocket for passports and spare cash, and finally it carries a reasonable amount of weight without too much effort. This last point is important. I tried an earlier version of Osprey’s breathable frame and it hurt. (This is a personal observation, my son used it for Philmont without any trouble.) Finding where to put water bottles and platypus’s (platypi?) is a little problematic but solvable. There’s even a top strap under the lid so I can drape my raingear over the top and strap it in. It’s definitely big enough for a light-weight backpacker during the three easy seasons.
I always add a couple of extras to my packs. A real carabiner – from the climbing section at REI and not a cheap knock off, is essential. I clip my walking sticks and map case to it. It can also double as a pulley when I hoist my pack in bear country. This carabiner is a locking one which is better for my use than a clip one because it won’t accidentally clip on to things. The other thing is a bandana. Cotton might kill, but a bandana is a life-saver. A pot holder, an emergency hat, when soaked in water it can keep you cool, and um, is useful for washing those delicate areas when they start to chafe. I also tie it to the pack I’m using as sort of a badge of honour.
Happy trails.
The Art of Deception 27
The Art of Deception
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week, Roderick and Edward met, somewhat to Roderick’s surprise, Alice and Lucy in Bath. They had an interesting and accidental meeting with an old acquaintance of Roderick’s. This week, the niceties over, the two men head back to the Pelican for as Roderick described it, “Sausages. Presumably made from pigs, but possibly with other, less savoury, ingredients.”
“Sausages for dinner, again?” Edward joked as he and Roderick trudged back to the Pelican.
“I hear they have a new cook; at least I hope so; in any case, the beer has a fine reputation and anything is edible – with enough of it; Did you catch their names and addresses?”
“Wondered how long it would take for you to ask me that, Lucinda,” He looked heavenward, “Lucinda is from Derbyshire, Thornsett, Miss Mapleton from the village of Easterly; I suppose that means we can write two villages off the list.”
“Not necessarily, Edward; the best cover stories are as true as is possible; fewer things to forget; Miss Mapleton did say her cousin was Miss Green … I think that is the name of the family thereabouts.”
Edward stopped, “You don’t think they’re involved?”
“Who?”
“Lady Green.”
“I’m impressed … know your minor nobility?”
“Lord no – they were friends of my parents; at least until Lord Green outran his legs; wonder what happened to them; last I heard they’d retired to the country; had a daughter, much younger.”
Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.
My apologies for creative punctuation.
Thornsett is a real village, more of a crossroads now, on the canal between New Mills and Hayfield in the peak district. New Mills (in the picture) is, as the name suggests, a factory town. It’s situated on ample water power and was being built about the time of this story. In 1804 Thornsett was the bigger of the three towns.
Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.
I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere This is a fun read.
Frankenkitty is available.
What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstien’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.
About my recent book #LifeBooksWriting
About My last book
This ought to be an easy post. Every author loves to talk about the last one. My most recent book, at least most recent that’s been released, is Frankenkitty. I’ve got a couple in the can, out at publishers and an agents on spec. Don’t know if that will work, but it’s worth a try.
Frankenkitty is a Young Adult science fiction work. Sort of Young Frankenstein meets Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Except a book rather than a movie and set in a more modern environment.
What happens when teenagers are given the good doctor’s secret formula? Enquiring minds want to know. (Hint it’s humour and chaos.)
This was a blast to write, and a complete change from my usual regency/historical fare. Available at fine online retailers (Well Amazon).
Oldbury-on-Severn.
The recent kerfuffle about a nuclear power station brought this trip, from 2013, to mind. It’s just south of it. The area marked as “Settlement” in the ordnance survey map is an ancient town. (Likely pre-Saxon and pre-Roman) This small village, not far from Bristol, has a long history, even by English standards.
It’s a nice walk, there’s a pub in the village (which we didn’t sample, unfortunately). 2013 was hot, much hotter and drier than 2016, so there weren’t as many nice pictures to take. Brown grass on a earthwork, even an ancient earthwork, is brown grass. Simply not photogenic.
The shade by Saint Arilda’s Church was a welcome relief from the hot sun. The church, itself, is on a hill just to the south of the village. It’s something of a conundrum why there isn’t a castle ruin, because it’s an obvious place to put a defensive structure. The church community, in typical English fashion, was having a sale of used books, CD’s and nicknacks. It sat on the side of the road, and was on the honour system. I picked up a CD of bagpipe music to play in the car when the bairns misbehave.
The view from the church toward the nuclear power plant.
The Severn bridge is in the distance.
The Art of Deception 26
The Art of Deception
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week, Roderick and his companion awaited Lucy and Alice in Bath. The story, this week, starts after they’ve connected with Alice and Lucy. After exchanging greetings, Alice reminds ‘her charge’ that they need to enter their names in Mr Kings’ book.
“Our names must be entered in Mr Kings’ book, or else we won’t be admitted to the assembly; it may be too late for tonight’s ball, but it would be a shame to miss the concert or Thursday’s ball; we must remember to add your Aunt Heather as well.”
Edward gave Roderick a quick glance, “Shall we accompany them?”
Roderick nodded, Names, names and addresses, unless Mr King has changed the rules, “Absolutely,” He offered his arm to Alice, “Miss Mapleton, may I escort you?”
Alice breathlessly, despite her misgivings, nodded her agreement.
The two couples dodged their way through the crowds as they walked towards the pump room; eventually they made it onto the open Abbey square; however, by then Edward and Lucinda were far ahead.
An older man, dressed in the slightly faded colours of an old blue uniform, accosted them, “Sir Roderick, Mon vielle truand! What are you doing in Bath; I was told you were in America, and yet I find you ici with such a prime article on your arm; was she expensive, she looks it.”
Oh God, not now, “Do I know you?”
“Mais of course, General Charles Dumouriez, or have you forgotten our great times in Hamburg already?”
Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.
My apologies for creative punctuation.
General Dumouriez is an interesting real character from the French revolution and the Napoleonic wars. He helped to overthrow King Louis, and was an effective general during the war against the British and continental powers that immediately followed. The song ‘The Jolly Duke of York’ refers to one of the battles where Dumouriez handed the British a short sharp shock in the lowlands of Holland. He survived Robespierre’s reign of terror (rain of blood?) and the corrupt directory. However, the brutality and corruption of the revolution eventually was too much for him and he joined the British. (He may also have simply fallen afoul of Napoleon and had to depart in a hurry.) He then advised the British intelligence for the duration of the war.
This weekend:
Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.
I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere This is a fun read.
Frankenkitty is available.
What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstien’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.
R. Harrison, Creative Enterprises 