I'm Sure You're A Miner
Concerning brief encounters, changes of hats, where I get my ideas from, and useless dogs.
Ships that pass in the night
For some reason, I really love stories about unlikely pairs of people meeting very briefly. The late lamented Barry Cryer (a British comedian and writer, if you’re unaware of him) once told me a story (and I do not flatter myself that I’m the only one he told, not by a long shot) about his brief telephone conversation with Marilyn Monroe (an American actress, if you’re, slightly less plausibly, unaware of her) while she waited for the person she really wanted to talk to. There’s not even a punchline to this story (though there would have been when Barry told it), I just love the fact that for, say, a minute and a half of their existences, Marilyn Monroe and Barry Cryer were focussed on one another.
Here’s another good one, from Anthony Trollope’s autobiography. On a tour of America, he passes through Utah, and decides that, as a famous writer, he can probably just drop in on Brigham Young.
"I did not achieve great intimacy with the great polygamist of Salt Lake City. [...] He received me in his doorway, not asking me to enter, and inquired whether I was not a miner. When I told him that I was not a miner, he asked me whether I earned my bread. I told him I did. "I guess you're a miner," said he. I again assured him I was not. "Then how do you earn your bread?" I told him I did so by writing books. "I'm sure you're a miner," said he. Then he turned upon his heel, went back into the house, and closed the door."
News and Ads
I’m happy to say that, starved of culture as they are, the townsfolk of the obscure town of Oxford have bought up all the tickets for JF Among Other in January; and indeed have pleaded piteously with us to stay another night, to stave off the otherwise unremitting boredom. We have graciously agreed, so you can now buy tickets for the second night here. If you fancy coming twice, it will be (mostly) a different show, with a different Double Act, Since You Ask Me, and Favourite Cast Member.
Commentary Box, on
Re my imaginary relative of yours who like puzzles, postcards and murders, Kathleen Towers says:
Oh, no. I’m Auntie Kathy, aren’t I? I guess there are worse stock characters to fulfill than slightly murdery maiden-ish aunt.
“Maiden-ish”? Auntie Kathy? My dear, she’s buried five husbands. And four of them were dead.
Re my praise for Henry Tilney, Anna MC says:
While Darcy is the Sexy One, Henry Tilney is the One Who'd Be Fun to Hang Out With. He's a bit of a mansplainer, yes, and just a trifle too full of himself, but he's hilarious, charming, fun, loves dogs, and (despite being a cleric in an Austen novel) seems a decent fellow.
The Worst Excuse for an Austen Hero is Edmund Bertram. I will accept no arguments.
Of course, she will get no arguments about that last point, because it is a simple statement of fact. At least we can console themselves that he ends up with The Worst Excuse for an Austen Heroine. Let us hope they spent a long married life trembling with anguish at each other for smiling whilst within sight of a hassock.
And thank you very much to all those who expressed their enjoyment of last edition’s Allywn Advent Windows. (Still available via the link above, although behind the paywall. Incidentally, is it clear that if you upgrade to paid, you’re also able to read all the paywalled stuff in the newsletters before you upgraded? If not, let me make that clear now.) Nicki ends by saying
But if I ask you for a Christmas story.... can we hope?
…Well!
Since You Ask Me For A Christmas Story…
…It just so happens that I’ve written one. It was written for Radio 4, and read by the marvellous Adrian Scarborough. It was broadcast twice over Christmas, including once, pleasingly, on Christmas Day.
Here it is, if you would like to read it; and here it is if you would like Adrian Scarborough to read it to you, which is what I would recommend.
This story came about because my old friend, Cabin Pressure producer, and Researcher’s First Murder first reader and dedicatee David Tyler got in touch to say he was producing a series of short stories for Radio 4, and would I like to write one? Since the first rule of things David Tyler asks if you’d be interested in doing is ‘say yes if humanly possible’; and it was humanly possible, I said yes
And now, on the far side of the wall, for writers and anyone else who might be interested, here is what to my surprise turned into quite a long essay about exactly how I came up with this story; the big mistake I made while writing it; how I eventually realised what the mistake was; and how (I hope) I fixed it. Plus an extract from the version I finally realised I had to ditch.
Love, and a Happy New Year,
The Airport