Showing posts with label London. Show all posts
Showing posts with label London. Show all posts

Sunday, November 20, 2022

London here we come...by Sheila Claydon


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I always try to tie-in my monthly blog content with one of my books. Admittedly sometimes the link is a bit tenuous but I usually manage it. So what is it this time. Well to discover the detail you will have to read the third book of my When Paths Meet trilogy, Saving Katy Gray. And although all three books stand alone, to truly understand that means reading Mending Jodie's Heart and Finding Bella Blue as well!! Just kidding of course, but there is a link, right at the end of the book when Katy changes her job to something she really wants to do.


How does this tie-in with London? It's because I'll be there soon with my 8 year old granddaughter who, you might remember from a previous post, is staying with me for 3 months while her parents move jobs, home and school from Hong Kong to Singapore. Actually her Dad is here too but working online from my study, so much of of the time it's like having her here on her own.


She has settled in so well it seems as if she was always here even if, sometimes, my energy levels are tested! Online lessons are going well, she has made friends with local children, and the dog is her new best friend. They are inseparable, which is lovely to see but it will be sad for both of them when she eventually leaves for Singapore. Before then, however, we have our visit to London.


First we will be visiting extended family who live close to London, most of whom have never met her. Then it's on the train to central London where we are lucky enough to have access to an apartment for the 5 days we will be there. Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, the River Thames, The Tower of London are all factored in. Then there are the museums. For some unaccountable reason my granddaughter wants to visit the War Museum. Then her big cousin, who will spend a day with us wants to take her to the Natural History Museum, and her Mum says we should take her to The British Museum. We want to see a show as well....but what one? What would an 8 year old enjoy best? Mathilda? The Lion King? Aladdin? 


I used to work in London so know it well but I must admit to looking forward to seeing it through the eyes of an eight year old. What will fascinate her, what will she see that the adults in the party will ignore until she starts asking questions? I can feel another book coming on...but not until she is back with her parents in Singapore and I have had a long, long rest:)


London seems to be a theme. Here are two more of my books that are partly set in the city.



                                            



                                               

Thursday, June 4, 2020

Pillars of Avalon by Katherine Pym


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 Now in Audio

Since it’s June, and the traditional wedding month, if we ever get through this pandemic, I thought I’d share an excerpt from Pillars of Avalon, the wedding vows between David & Sara. Humourous to say the least.  This is a story of love, struggle and passion. A good read for YA & Adults.

David and Sara Kirke were married in London 1630. It was not long after they settled in Newfoundland, now Newfoundland/Labrador. Their story is filled with adventure, very well researched. We found as much data on them from the limited resources as possible. 

~*~*~*~

Spangler took a deep breath and said, “Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together here in the sight of God...”  

David’s chest deflated and his gut heaved. The very raising of her chin emasculated him, casting him into the hoary pit of impotence. She did that often and he wondered if women were born this way or if they learned it from their mothers. 

Lord above, but he pitied Sara’s father. Being married to a bloody harpy like Mother Andrews would be his undoing. 

“...an honourable estate instituted by God in paradise, in the time of man’s innocence...” Spangler said in a singsong manner. 

David wanted to scoff. Man’s innocence, my arse. Women’s cunning and their wicked ways unmanned men. In his weakness David would soon lustily bed Eve as Adam had taken the apple and eaten thereof. 

“…of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men, and therefore is not to be enterprised, nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts…” 

Of course, he was a brute and a beast. He hungered for Twig, her softness, how her eyes brightened when he walked into a room. Their bundling showed she had the capacity to love him. She was open to do all things imaginable behind the bed curtains. He intended to try the sports expressed in chapbooks. All of them. 

“…but reverently, discretely, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.”

David did not like those words. A woman must have whispered in the ear of whoever wrote that part of the Book of Common Prayer. Why should a man fear God when he created the physical body to enjoy the act of procreation? 

He scoffed in derision and Sara gave him a look. The minister paused in his reading. They turned to him with question, their regard on the verge of horror. Embarrassed, David’s neck heated. His ears buzzed and his knees wobbled. 

All he could do was shrug.  

Spangler cleared his throat. “Duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. One cause was the procreation of children, to be brought up in fear and nurture of the Lord, and praise of God…”

Why should he raise his sons to fear God? When a man struck out on his road, to do what his heart most desired, if it was honourable, then there should be no fear. He sliced a glance at Sara. So far, she hadn’t been overly reverent or spouted homilies. She did not judge with the Good Book in her hand. He nodded. They would do well together. 

“Secondly,” the minister continued, his voice falling into the monotone of words often said.
David frowned. Would this never end?

“It is ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication that such persons as be married, might live chastely in matrimony and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.” 

Those words should be stricken from the ceremony, David reflected sagely. The only reason a man would fornicate outside the marriage bed was a cold and stiff wife, which he would not have. He’d sell Sara in a public auction if she was thusly, and he snorted. 

Spangler tripped over his words and Sara faced him, her lips curled in a frown. David reared back, as if he would soon be pummelled by the two of them. Nervous coughs came from the congregation. He tried to look innocent of any wrongdoing. 

After several tense moments where he burst into a mighty sweat, Spangler flipped through the pages of his book, then said, “I require and charge you, as you will anywhere at the dread full day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed,” he put his hand to his mouth and coughed, “that if either of you do know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, that ye confess it.” He gazed at David. 

Sara turned to him. 

He wanted to shout, “What have I done?” 

Still looking at David, Spangler said, “For be ye well assured that so many as be coupled together; otherwise then God would doeth allow you are not joined of God. Neither is your matrimony lawful.”  

Annoyance turned to anger. The man was a damned rogue who pointed an improper finger at him. 

“David Kirke, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her…”

Surely he would if she weren’t a crone and enjoyed tussling upon the counterpane. 

Spangler cleared his throat and Sara gave him a murderous regard. 

David could not fathom their discontent. “I will.” 

“Sara Andrews, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will thou obey him and serve him…”

She would certainly obey him. If not, David knew he had the full right to beat her into proper submission. He gazed at her. She was so pretty with bright eyes and kissable lips. He could never lay a hand upon her, no matter how much she vexed him. 

“I will,” Sara said. 

~*~*~
The vows were taken from the Book of Common Prayer, 1549 edition


Saturday, January 4, 2020

The Executioner by Katherine Pym

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A story of 17th c London, medicine & the theatre

~*~*~*~

Executioners are interesting although it is not easy to find a lot of data on these guys.  I know of two who were completely different. One was thoughtful, the other a menace to the public... 


The Guillotine during the Fr.Revolution, a humane way to die.
Charles-Henri Sanson was the executioner during the French Revolution. He executed Danton, Robespierre, Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Before Camille Desmoulins was guillotined, he handed Sanson a locket of his wife’s hair. “Please return this to my wife’s mother.” 

Sanson did. While he was at the Duplessis’ household, Camille’s mother-in-law learned her daughter would be executed. Afraid Sanson would be recognized as the one who guillotined Camille, and would execute Lucile, Madame Duplessis’ daughter, he dashed away from their house, mournful of his vocation. 


Charles-Henri Sanson
Due to the caste system of the time, the offspring of executioners in France were never allowed any other vocation but that of an executioner, and he must marry an executioner’s daughter, thus keeping their grisly profession within a lower social stratum, and within the family. (Everyone must have been related. How many executioners could there have been in France in a given year?)  

They were not allowed to live in town but at its outskirts. One of Sanson’s descendants was a known herbalist. People came to him for cures. Another Sanson, who could not bear a life of executing people, committed suicide. 

Another well-known executioner was Jack Ketch. English executioners were taught several ways to execute an individual; i.e., with fire, the ax, and the rope. I’m not sure if Ketch was very proficient in his vocation or a complete fool. He botched most of his executions.  

Jack Ketch, an ugly dude inside & out

The hanging knot is supposed to be placed on the side of the neck so that when the poor wretch is thrust off the back of a cart, his neck should break, but Jack liked to put the knot at the back of the neck. This meant long strangulation. Family members were forced to run under the Tyburn hanging tree, grab the wretch’s legs and yank down, hoping somehow for a quick end.

When Jack used the ax, he knocked the blade against the person’s neck several times before the head came off.  One fellow he tortured was Lord Russell. It took four strokes of the ax before the man was finally dispatched. Because of his cruelty, a hue and cry reached the king. Jack Ketch was forced to write a note of apology to the Russell family, which was published in 1683. 

The Duke of Monmouth expressly requested Jack Ketch make good use of the ax: “Here,” said the duke, “are six guineas for you. Do not hack me as you did my Lord Russell. I have heard that you struck him three or four times. My servant will give you some gold if you do the work well.” 


The Tyburn Tree where Jack did his job so well
There is no evidence if Ketch took the money, but he disregarded the duke’s request. In a brutal attempt to torture the victim, it took several strokes to finally behead the lad.

~*~*~*~

Many thanks to Wikicommons, Public Domain &
Old and New London: A Narrative Its History, Its People, and Its Places, The Western and Northern Suburbs, Vol. V.,  1892, by Edward Walford



Sunday, January 14, 2018

Coming Back...by Sheila Claydon



For many reasons, but mainly because I've been looking after my 3 year old granddaughter, I haven't had much time to write this year. In fact make that 18 months what with journeys to Australia and Hong Kong to visit family and friends, and longterm guests at home. It's just been one of those times when writing has had to take a back seat because people, when all is said and done, are more important. On top of all that I've had trouble with my website and, with no time to fix it, have wiped that as well.

I have had one thing going for me, however - Books We Love. Always there for all its writers, it has continued to give me an online presence as well as republishing 3 of the books I wrote in the eighties when the copyright unexpectedly reverted to me, so 2017 has not been entirely book free. Vintage romance! How did I get to be so old?

The republication of those books has been a boost to my writing morale too, especially the fantastic new covers courtesy of the wonderful Michelle ( http://www.michelleleedesigns.net), and now it's time for a comeback.  January 2018 is definitely a time of new resolutions, although right at this moment the workload looks overwhelming.  A book to edit before it can be republished, a half-written book, Part 2 of a series, to revisit and finish, and a website which is still only a work in progress.  I'm enjoying rereading the story of Golden Girl though, the Vintage romance soon to be republished, and it has reminded me of how difficult writing used to be.

Golden Girl was my very first book. I wrote it by hand in notebooks and on sheets of paper at the kitchen counter while my children were at school, and then typed it (a top copy and 2 carbons) on a portable typewriter. I also had a part-time job.  When a publisher accepted it I blew the money on a holiday for the family, our first ever abroad and my first ever flight. I've done a lot more travelling since then but nothing has quite replaced the thrill of that trip to Munich although strangely enough, given that nowadays I hang my writing identity on a have pen/will travel persona, I've never written about it. In 2018, with a study, a computer and the Internet for reference, writing a book is much less onerous. Another big plus is that publishers now accept books online. No more printing, collating and packing up copies and making sure return postage is included. In 2018 the whole process is much more manageable.

Anyway, back to Golden Girl. The story is based on an experience I had when I was a young secretary and was asked to front the launch of a range of  new cosmetics. It only entailed a couple of days in London, nothing so exotic as Paris, which is featured in the book, nor did I meet such charismatic characters as Alain Matthieu and Paul Genet, the hero and anti-hero. The experience gave me the idea though and now that I am re-reading it prior to publication, it is reviving many memories.  Faces and names from the past have come back to me as I wonder what happened to all those people I used to work with. I have also remembered that part of the launch included sitting on a carnival float dressed as a French courtesan, something I had completely forgotten until now!  It was all very tame stuff compared with what the heroine has to put up with in Golden Girl though. And I remember it was fun. 2 days away from the office, free cosmetics, a new dress...what was not to like.

My Golden Girl heroine, Lisa Morgan, has it a lot harder and copes in ways I would never have managed myself. She also has to deal with the sexual politics of the 1960s which were very different from those of today. I got a lot wrong too. I wouldn't write a book now with so much sight-seeing detail, even though it has its uses. For anyone visiting London or Paris for the first time, following in Lisa's footsteps as she explores them offers a blueprint of where to go and what to see.  Maybe I'll go back one day and revisit those places myself but if I don't make it at least I have the memories.

My other Vintage Romances were republished last year. Set in Moscow, Hollywood and, more prosaically, an English town, they set me on the path of writing about faraway places when they were first published. In those far off days I was prepared to write about places I'd never visited, using reference books and travel magazines for authenticity. Now I wouldn't dream of doing that. If I haven't been there then I don't write about it. Since those early days as a writer I've learned a lot, but re-reading and editing them has been fun and the stories still stand up, so if you decide to read them to learn about a different time that is not exactly history but is still very different from the Twenty-first Century, then enjoy.








You can see all of Sheila's books Vintage, Contemporary and Series at:

http://bookswelove.net/authors/claydon-sheila/

They are available at:

And if you have time, then stop in and visit her at:

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Early Pulp Press & Superstition by Katherine Pym


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 As a historical fiction author, I have accumulated a lot of data, and stored it for ‘just in case’. One such book I came across deals with pulp press during the 17th century.

Strange and Wonderful Woodcut from 17th century Press

Thanks to King Henry VIII, most news of the 16th and 17th centuries was surrounded by religion. The constant upheaval during these nearly 200 years must have been mind-boggling. Wars on the Continent, changes in regime in England, regicide, conspiracy theories and civil wars were nonstop. Even if England wasn’t at war with the Holy Roman Empire, battles bled into their waters. The English navy was always on the alert. 

Something to attract the eye
Due to these unsettled times, a big interest was divining the future, reading about ancient prophecies. Strange woodcuts were attached to these pamphlets and journals, used again and again. Most of the woodcuts did not match the story or article.

Even Samuel Pepys wrote in his diary of an incident where he met a gypsy in the street. She said, ‘The world will end Tuesday next,’ then she wandered off, leaving the poor man in a conundrum. Should he put his things in order or leave them be? After all, if the world ends, no one will want his things, his chest of money buried in the back garden. There won’t be anywhere to spend it. So, he turned away from the encounter and went about his everyday business. I don’t recall if he mentioned having lived through "Tuesday next" or not. 

Kings and queens of those centuries tried to suppress unauthorized stories coming from the press rooms but it was a flow of nature no one could stop. “A list of prohibited books first appeared in England in 1529.” A licensing system followed where printers had to gain permission from the Crown before publishing pamphlets, which overwhelmed the Star Chamber whose other responsibilities were soon dwarfed. Queen Mary finally gave that responsibility to the English Stationers Company. 

Example of a 17th century News-sheet
Nothing could stop the flow. Within a few years, London was near buried under satirical and blasphemous pamphlets that soon found their way into the countryside. As a result, strange apparitions and beasts returned from the countryside in the form of divining the future, blaspheming God and Country. 

The government tried to suppress these incoming and outgoing tides of strange and ungodly news. Men would haunt the lanes looking for unauthorized presses. 

Printers found ways to secretly print their pamphlets. They made the presses smaller, easier to handle, to dismantle and hide them when the government came looking. Authors had pseudonyms so they weren’t caught and fined, thrown in to gaol. 

As an example: one fellow collected 22 pamphlets in 1640, almost 1000 in 1641, almost 2000 a year later. By 1660 he’d collected “a total of over 22,000 pamphlets, newspapers, and news books.”

The really good thing about this is, the literacy rate increased throughout England. 

~*~*~*~*~

Many thanks to:
Wikicommons Public Domain & 
The Battle of the Frogs and Fairford’s Flies, Miracles and the Pulp Press during the English Revolution by Jerome Friedman, St. Martin’s Press, NY, 1993


Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Let’s Go Fishing by Katherine Pym




Release date July 1, 20017

I wrote “The End” on my first draft of Pillars of Avalon, a story of 17th century Newfoundland, Canada. When I first started this project, I thought this would be difficult since settlers in the New World struggled to stay alive. They hunted, fished and peeked over big boulders to see if wild savages lurked in the distance, waiting to scalp them. 

How could I write a full novel of almost 95,000 words on episodes of crude survival that would numb the reader over time? It would make them think: Boy, I’m glad I didn’t live then. What a pain!

Then I came upon Sir David & Lady Sara Kirke. They were wine merchants living in London. King Charles I gave David and his brothers carte blanche (in the form of a letter of marque) to pillage and destroy French settlements along the Canadian coast. 

I thought, Oh good. A pirate story. I’ve always liked heroes with a slightly wicked bent. If one is too good, he/she is boring. 

But David Kirke was more than a king sanctioned pirate. While he pillaged and set ships afire along the St. Lawrence River, he was also a businessman. He saw opportunity wherever he went. One of those places was Ferryland, Newfoundland, where the fishing was supreme-o.

Fishing on the grand banks NL with icebergs
Men returned to England after a season along the grand banks and enthused how the waters teemed with fish. The cold waters were so crowded that to breathe, the fish jumped into fishing boats just to get away from the overwhelmingly packed seas. 

London and Dartmouth merchants leased ships of sail and traded goods like wine, clothing, and farm implements from England in exchange for dry salt fish and cod-oil. No money was to exchange hands. To transport money was illegal. Everything was traded, or supposed to be. When you see or read pirate stories, their chests filled with silver and gold coins, (if they are law abiding fellows) the money would have come from Spain or Portugal, France or any port of call in the Mediterranean. 

But I digress: 

Crude fishing equipment
Crude Fishing Equipment
Closer Look at one end
Boats with 5 men fished daily in the late spring to early autumn months. They were expected to haul in over 300 cod a day using the most primitive of tools. (In high summer, 1000 fishing boats could be in the water at the same time.) Cod could be as heavy as 120 lbs (54.43108 kg). Nets were apparently not used. Seins were used for the smaller schools of fish, like herring. 

Depending on the day and who did what, a fisherman would use this primitive device to haul upward to 100 fish per day. One would think the hemp line would slice through a leather glove and cut your hand. 

Every day, fish would be brought ashore to be processed. The fish would be gutted and beheaded by men called ‘Headers’. Cod livers would be thrown into barrels for cod-oil. The Header pushed the gutted fish to the ‘Splitter’ who opened the fish and removed the spine.
Notes have come down through the ages how quickly this could be done, up to “24 score in half an hour”.  If a team of gutters and splitters processed fish for 10 hours, that’s 9,600 fish per day—that’s one team. 

After the fish were gutted and salted, they were washed off in sea water, then laid flat on a rocky shore or flake. A flake is a low table covered with pine boughs or such which allow air to pass around the fish and dry uniformly. Boys would stand by, waving a large enough object to keep the flies away since maggots would destroy a dry salt crop.  

Fish Flakes covered with Cod

The calculations are like this: 

In the summer months, a period of 8-10 weeks, a crew of 5 would be expected to catch and cure 200 quintals (quintal=112 lbs or 50.80234kg of salt fish). That is an amount of 22,400 lbs/10,160.47kg of fish in a season. At 11 shillings per quintal (17th century prices), the merchants would garner several thousand pounds sterling per fishing boat per season. If a merchant owned several fishing boats, the numbers are staggering. 

Sir David & Lady Sara Kirke saw the potential and eventually went into the "sack" trade, where goods were traded for fish. They exploited this when they moved to Ferryland in 1638, and by the time of Sara's death in 1684 or 1685, she was a wealthy plantation owner. 

So, that’s one story line, but how many fishing tales are good for a long novel? Well, I found a whole bunch of other stories that filled the breach, which I will relate in another blogspot post. Very exciting.

 PILLARS OF AVALON will be released July 1, 2017. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Many thanks to WikiCommons, public domain and
Pictures of fishing lines, page 26, Fish Into Wine, The Newfoundland Plantation in the Seventeenth Century by Peter E. Pope (University of North Caroline Press, 2004

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