jury of one

Dreamwidth and Wordpress and just making my life simpler

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

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
jury of one

Charlie's latest newsletter

I can’t believe we’re half way through January. Doesn’t tempus blooming half fugit?
It’ll be Easter before we know it – and the shops are certainly starting to stock small chocolate eggs, which is really depressing.


The programme for Portsmouth Book Fest is live, as are ticket sales. I’m doing the romance panel on March 5th – trying to prove the genre isn’t all fluff and kittens – then I pop up again with my crime hat on for the Mysteryfest on the 7th March. The wonderful Len Tyler is headlining that so it’s well worth coming along if you're in the area, although do book in advance.

I’ve been running a bit of a daft series of posts about where I’ve been and what I got up to during the year and they come with a competition. A book from my back catalogue for the best suggestion as to where I am, winner to be chosen from among the comments anywhere these posts pop up, either blog or social media. You can find all the posts tagged here.

This year is the Romantic Novelists Association’s 60th birthday. In the most recent bulletin, they say:

The RNA is an inclusive and diverse organisation and recently opened an online Rainbow Chapter for members of the LGBQTIA+ community. On the 9th February during Romance Reading month we would like to provide an opportunity for readers to share their favourite LGBQTIA+ novels to @RNAtweets using the following hashtags. #DiamondRainbowReads #RNA60

It would be really cool if we could encourage as many folk as possible to join in.

Today’s excerpt has its romance head well and truly on. Broke Deep is part of the Porthkennack universe of stories, the other contribution of mine being Count the Shells. Both of them are on the more serious end of my writing, dealing with tricky themes - in this case, metal frailty and dementia.

Morgan Capell’s life is falling apart by small degrees—his father’s dead, his boyfriend dumped him, and his mother’s in the grip of dementia. His state of mind isn’t helped by his all-too-real recurring nightmare of the wreck of the Troilus, a two-hundred-year-old ship he’s been dreaming about since his teenage years.
The story of the Troilus is interwoven with the Capell family history. When amateur historian Dominic Watson inveigles himself into seeing the ship’s timbers which make up part of Morgan’s home, they form a tentative but prickly friendship that keeps threatening to spark into something more romantic.
Unexpectedly, Dominic discovers that one of the Troilus’s midshipman was rescued but subsequently might have been murdered, and persuades Morgan to help him establish the truth. But the more they dig, the more vivid Morgan’s nightmares become, until he’s convinced he’s showing the first signs of dementia. It takes as much patience as Dominic possesses—and a fortuitous discovery in a loft—to bring light out of the darkness.

The sudden, insistent bleating of the telephone started Morgan out of his remembrances of times past, pleasant and obnoxious. It would be a client, probably, wanting a quote over the phone for a particularly intricate design contract. That would be a good distraction. Not that he was short of work—there was plenty to tide him over—but some kind of project to really stretch his brains would keep his mind off painful things.
“Cadoc Design. Hello?” Morgan’s practiced tones managed to sound both welcoming and businesslike, or so he’d been informed when it had been a friend rather than a client at the other end of the line.
“Oh, sorry. Think I’ve got the wrong number.”
“Not to worry, it’s—” Morgan didn’t have the chance to finish, the abrupt tones of the dialling code signalling that the phone at the other end had been put down. Wrong number? He couldn’t remember the last one of those he’d had, not since the time he’d been plagued with calls to his mobile by someone who’d been convinced he was a pizza delivery service. Not worth ringing 1471 if it was a genuine mistake. He’d got as far as the kitchen, looking to wrest another mug of tea out of the pot, when the phone went again, and he turned on his heels to answer it again.
“Cadoc Design. Hello?” He felt less friendly this time.
“Sorry, it’s me again.” That was obvious from the same dithering voice. “I definitely haven’t misdialled, so either I’ve been given the wrong number in the first place or you’re Morgan Capell.”
“You haven’t and I am.” He’d ditched the polite edge completely. Who could be ringing him out of the blue and what did he want if he wasn’t a customer? If the idiot was trying to sell Morgan his wares, all he’d get was an earful of abuse; cold calls were the bane of everyone’s life, and on a day like today, he had no patience left.
“Right. Sorry to be so useless. I’m dreadful on the phone.”
He could say that again. At least whoever this was came across too awkwardly to be a salesman—no suggestion of smooth talking, and too long a pause in the conversation. Morgan took a deep breath. “I have no idea who you are, but I assume there’s something you want to talk about that isn’t to do with web design?”
“Yes. The wreck of the Troilus.”
“Oh.” Morgan felt his tongue tie itself in knots, as it always did when that particular ship got mentioned. What did this guy want to know about her? And how could he both have got Morgan’s number and known Morgan would have a tale to tell?
“I suppose you want to know how I got hold of you?” The voice on the phone sounded more apologetic than ever. Telepathic, with it.
“That might be a good place to start.”
“Your friend James gave me it.”
“Oh.” Double oh with fucking knobs on. So, not only had James the bastard left him high and dry, he was giving people Morgan’s number at random so they could ring about matters intensely personal? How many years would Morgan get for wringing his ex-boyfriend’s neck, and would they be worth it? “What did he tell you?”
“Only that the ship went down near where you live. I’m trying to research the history of her midshipmen, the ones who got transferred elsewhere before she sank and the unlucky ones who went on the rocks with her.” The voice was gaining in confidence, clearly on a pet subject. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself. Dominic. Dominic Watson.”
Morgan wasn’t sure what to say next, as the introduction the other way had already been done and without his consent. “What is it you want to know? I can’t tell you anything about the ship’s officers.” The prickles of unease that had appeared on Morgan’s neck wouldn’t go away. The Troilus. He hadn’t thought of her in weeks.

And finally – from last year's Portsmouth Book Fest. We look nearly intelligent, don't we?

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Where's Charlie - August

What's been great about this is reminding myself exactly what I was doing last year. August? Barely remember it, apart from watching the test matches on the telly. Then I look at the pictures and go, "Oh, yes!"

jury of one

Where's Charlie - part 2

I'm not going to give the answer from yesterday, because I thought I'd leave them all open and offer a prize (ebook or print) for the best response from all the twelve 'Where's Charlie?' posts I'll make (chosen from the comments at any of the places where these posts pop up.)

February 2019 - much easier to pin me down this time.