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charliecochrane [userpic]

Dreamwidth and Wordpress and just making my life simpler

[sticky post] January 5th, 2017 (12:36 pm)

2017 will see me - hopefully - completing what I started in 2016, which is simplifying my online presence. My website address now relocates to my Wordpress site, where I also have an active blog, so the next step is to co-ordinate this blog and my dreamwidth one. Like many folk, I'll be heading to dreamwidth for my main blog, although I'll keep my mylodon presence for all things fandom.

Come and link up at Dreamwidth/Wordpress!

charliecochrane [userpic]

The definitive (at present!) chronological list of Jonty and Orlando stories

May 4th, 2020 (11:58 am)

Early twentieth century:

Lessons in Love November 1905 Re-issue coming soon!

Lessons in Desire August 1906 Re-issue coming soon!

Lessons in Discovery  November 1906 Re-issue coming soon!

Lessons in Power Spring 1907 Re-issue coming soon!

Lessons in Temptation July 1907 Re-issue coming soon!

Lessons in Temptation missing scene July 1907

What the Mathematician said to the Statue Summer 1907

Lessons in Seduction September 1907 Re-issue coming soon!

What the Mathematician said to the Engineer November 1907

My true love sent to me December 1907

My True Love sent to me postscript

Lessons in Trust Summer 1908 Re-issue coming soon!

Resolution January 1909

Lessons for Suspicious Minds Summer 1909.

On the occasion of their anniversary November 1909

Wetting the baby's head missing scene, November 1909

Bloody Mathematicians Spring 1910

Lessons for Idle Tongues Summer 1910

May our days be merry and bright Winter 1910

A fit employment for a gentleman Summer 1912 (crossover 'fanfic')

Once we won matches Aug 1912

Ring in the New December 1913

Game of Chance 1916

All Lessons Learned Spring 1919 Re-issue coming soon!

Lessons for Survivors, Autumn 1919

Lessons for Sleeping Dogs 1921

The Boy from Kings 1932

A random collection of silly things:

The Inadvertent Adventures of Johnny Stewart, Jonty's great-nephew.

Orlando's opinion on Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake.

Pride, Prejudice and all the rest.

Drabbles 1 Edwardian

Drabbles 2 Edwardian

Splitting Infinitives Edwardian, crossover 'fanfic'

Ten plus five plus eight = twenty three Edwardian crossover 'fanfic'

Love Letters, 1911 to 2011

Lessons in Disco 2010

charliecochrane [userpic]

Strange sightings

July 15th, 2018 (08:53 pm)

Although not here (a misty and atmospheric Loch Ness):


We were having tea at Nairn, looking out at the Moray Firth,


and I saw, three times in quick succession, a distinctive fin. Waiter reckoned it was an orca, as he'd seen them there recently. Cor!

charliecochrane [userpic]

Bonny Scotland!

July 14th, 2018 (05:46 pm)

So, via the wonders of the Caledonia sleeper:


we woke up to this:


Breakfast not in America but in Inverness


And tonight, rather than the upper berth, ya mo be sleeping here.


charliecochrane [userpic]

Bisons and bagpipes

July 13th, 2018 (12:22 pm)

Bisons: I'm indebted to Stevie Carroll for the link to this great article about the Bristol LGBT Bisons rugby club.

Bagpipes: we're off tae bonny Scotland later today. Should have some internet on and off, but anything important might have to wait until I get home, except if it's doable on my phone.

charliecochrane [userpic]

Lessons in Trust on offer now!

July 12th, 2018 (07:41 pm)

Why not drop by Amazon and pick one up cheaper than chips!

charliecochrane [userpic]

World War 1 commemoration - dramatic depictions of life in the air

July 11th, 2018 (03:52 pm)

Given the centenary of the RAF, it's appropriate to keep with the airborne theme. I'm grateful to Graeme Cheater for reminding me of the wonderful late 70's series Wings, which portrayed the early days of aerial combat in a wonderfully understated and un-Hollywood way. That made me think of Aces High, which was a touch cheesy but well shot, and more than a little slashy (but then any film which shows young men in close proximity risks being slashy).

Back to reading Biggles...

charliecochrane [userpic]

Well, they got that right, didn't they?

July 8th, 2018 (07:09 pm)

Been looking back at some pre-world cup predictions.

How far will England get? "Respectable/brave 2-0 quarter-final loss after narrow squeak to that stage based on discipline and a couple of flukey clean sheets." "Quarter final exit regarded as moral victory."

Winner of Golden Boot? "Neymar."

Who'll win the tournament? "Brazil to beat Germany." "Spain." "Germany, Brazil and Spain are most likely to win."

Great how the 'experts' have proved so accurate.

Sources: The Guardian, Fourfourtwo, New York Times.

charliecochrane [userpic]

Rainbow snippet - Pack Up Your Troubles

July 7th, 2018 (08:11 pm)

Here’s an excerpt from the third story, Music in the Midst of Desolation, in the Pack Up your Troubles anthology. The perils of being a guardian angel...

Billy Byrne had gone straight onto the fast track. Cherry picked in the afterlife just as he’d been when on earth. He’d barely had time to find his feet in HQ, whisked back again almost the minute he’d walked through the pearly gates, then put into Neville’s team and told to sit tight and await orders. He was good at that, always had been, and so he’d waited, enjoying the comfortable facilities at the sort of London house he’d only ever seen in BBC dramas. They’d given him little jobs to do, processing data and helping out the quartermaster, but he knew they were just place holders for whatever the real thing was going to turn out to be.

Out in Iraq or Bosnia he’d always had a good grasp of the big picture. Strategy, that was his particular skill. Now he wasn’t even sure there was a canvas, let alone a picture. Nothing made a lot of sense beyond the obvious, that he’d died, been sent back and was part of some military style operation again, operating behind the scenes rather than in the front line.

When the orders did come, he wasn’t too surprised. He was to take up the position of guardian angel, probationer status, working with another officer. That was logical, it would make reasonable use of his skills, although the identity of the person being guarded was the problem. Never in his wildest nightmares had it occurred to him it would be Robbie Woodward he had to mind. When Neville briefed him, for the first time in his life Billy found himself questioning a direct order. “Robbie Woodward? Are you sure you’ve got the name right?”

“No mistake as far as I can see.” Neville consulted what looked like a register, tracing the words with his finger. “Yes. Robert Woodward. Born May the third, nineteen eighty…”

“I know when he was born! Sorry.” Billy held up his hand in a gesture of apology. “I’m struggling with the idea of having anything to do with him. Assign me to someone else—I really don’t mind how difficult it would be. Just not Robbie.”

“I’m not sure I have any discretion in the matter. I’m not sure any of us do.” Neville leaned forward, looking avuncular and reassuring. “What’s the problem?”

“Problem? How much time have we got? I suppose you want me to spend all my time making sure he keeps his dick inside his trousers?” Billy immediately regretted the outburst. Neville’s expression had turned from avuncular to that of a headmaster addressing the worst behaved pupil in the school.
More excerpts linked at Rainbow snippets.

charliecochrane [userpic]

Charlie's newsletter

July 6th, 2018 (07:31 pm)

At the risk of sounding like something out of a Janet and John book…are you melting? I am. The whole of the UK is descending into a sort of sweaty puddle, a mad sweaty puddle to boot, because random people keep shouting “It’s coming home!” at me. (It’s a football thing.)


First off I have a ‘missing persons’ alert. I drew the winner at my cover art competition post and left a message for then but they’ve not yet responded. If you are Lloyd Dodd can you get in touch with me, please? . If I don’t hear I shall have to redraw.

It’s great when you turn up an unforgotten gem, and this one’s a must for those who love the British Isles. This is a blog a number of authors (from all over the globe) contributed to in the run up to the 2012 Olympics. So many interesting posts featuring areas all over the British Isles, often with an LGBT connection.

Present time again! Really I should be bringing a stick of seaside rock, but instead I've got a summer-set (as opposed to Somerset) shifter story, the follow up to Shell Shocked. I sent it out as a freebie to the mailing list some months back, but if you missed it I’ve just uploaded it to my free stories page. Click on the link to Gob Smacked.

“There’s a fox out there getting distinctly fractious,” I said, as I finished the washing up. “He’s not happy about you.”
“May not be me,” Jonny replied, carefully drying a plate. “I’m not the only shifter in the world. Or in the UK. Or in Wales, I bet.”
I should have realised that for myself, but it hadn’t occurred to me. “All of them glypotodonts?” I asked.
“Doubt it, or else people would know about them. Bit hard to hide. Not like a wolf that might get away with being a large Alsatian.” He wiped another plate, as nonchalantly as if we were discussing the cricket scores. “Did you know there’s a secret Facebook group for shifters?”
I flicked some bubbles at him. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“God’s honest truth. I can show you on my laptop.”
“Shifterholics anonymous?”
“Don’t be a pillock. It’s not like we can give up changing. It’s more of a support group.” I nodded. If you changed into a strange creature once a month I guess you’d appreciate a sympathetic ear. “What sort of animals are they?”
“What sort of animals do you want? Wolves, bears, even sloths and one that reckons he’s a jackalope, whatever that is.” Jonny put the last bit of cutlery away. “If you can get yourself to the Isle of Wight tonight you might find out.”
I put the back of my hand to my head, dramatically. “Alas, my private jet’s in having its MOT.”
Jonny sniggered. “Well, you won’t have to go far tonight for entertainment. It isn’t just the fox who can smell something in the air. I can detect it, too. Don’t ask me how, but I know there’s another shifter around. Perhaps it’s a werepuffin that’ll come dive bombing you when you put the bins out.”
“Now who’s being a pillock?” Although I made sure I’d put the bins out before it got dark. Jonny had got me worried about what could come rummaging in them later. We were just getting into preparation mode—luckily, it being June, we had extra time to get ready for the moon’s rays to strike—when a cry of “Shit!” came from the loo. I dashed to the door, worried that the shifting had started early.
“Are you okay? What’s up?”
“I’m bleeding soaking. Tap’s leaking again.” The bungalow we’d bought was brilliantly adapted, but whoever had put in the toilet must have been having an off day, because the posh taps had started to spray at odd angles whenever the fancy took them. The local plumber, Dai the ballcock, was less than impressed with the original work. He was going to put new ones in but until they arrived from the supplier we had to make do with a holding job, one which he was sure wouldn’t hold too well.

And finally, a stunning sunset from the Isle of Wight.


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