• Th numbers game

    A special word for being innumerate exists.  I noticed it the other day, thought: how apt – then I didn’t write it down and have now (blame Lockdown/Christmas) forgotten what it was and feel too rushed at present to look for it.

    It’s like ‘dyslexic’ but for numbers rather than letters.

    The reason I’m thinking about it now is that although these days there are aids to doing simple sums there are many times when people like me hit a brick wall with that.  Take this morning for instance.  My daughter sent me a wonderful yoghurt maker and it turns out industrial amounts of yoghurt after minimal preparation.  Accent the word industrial.  Today I thought I’d make just enough for one.  But hey ho, numbers come into play.

    When I see  ‘milk – 1399’ it means nothing else to me but the year Richard II was deposed.  Or what about 1485 – wasn’t that the Wars of the Roses and Bosworth?  I hope we can go back to Imperial weights and measures.  That way the 2 metre rule will make so much more sense.  (2AD or 2BCE?)

    Stay safe and happy

    C

     

  • New Year – new blog post

    Hello.

    I must have known 2020 was best left blank as I haven’t posted a blog since 2019.  Well, it’s best left out of the picture, isn’t it?  What a year.  I do shudder a bit about what 2021 has to offer.  We’re all being so hopeful – but I clearly remember last year’s new years eve when I felt full of hope for the coming year then too.

    Personally it promised to be a good year because I had two new books coming out with the fabulous Severn House Publishers, the first being the tenth of Hildegard of Meaux and her medieval noir series and the next one being a  new series about a man Hildegard might have felt was a somewhat formidable though hauntingly attractive enemy if they had only  met.  Oh well, maybe Brother Rodric Chandler’s presence suggests I’m hankering for a little romance in my own life in this solitary lockdown situation, endless as it seems to be. Maybe you’re the same?

    I hope you’ve already enjoyed MURDER AT WHITBY ABBEY, out last summer.  I know somebody has read it because they sent me a wonderful Christmas card depicting the Abbey with the Whitby lifeboat in the foreground.  It was lovely to receive it, so thank you, Denise. wherever you are. I hope you’re safe and well.

    The second book published last year is THE HOUR OF THE FOX, a new take on events leading to the murder of King Richard II.  As a ruler he still suffers from the bad press of the Lancastrian usurper Henry Bolingbroke (imposter-syndrome sufferer Henry IV) and his special crony Thomas Arundel, the less than holy Archbishop of Canterbury, who was ‘compassionate ‘ enough to bring in a law that allowed the burning ‘in an high place’ of heretics, that is, men and women who happened to disagree with him on anything at all.

    This is the first of three books and today I’m working  on the second, The Day of the Serpent.  More about this later in the newsletter coming out soon so don’t forget to sign up for that if you’d like to know the latest.

    So, here we are, just beginning 2021.   You’ll have noticed that I haven’t dared to write anything about you-know-what.  It’s too much at present.

    I sincerely hope you find solace in a retreat  into the medieval world with Hildegard and Rodric, and that you stay safe, take no risks, and that the new year brings you comfort, joy and new horizons.

    Drop me a line through the contacts page if you have time.  It will be good to hear from you.   This year I’m going to organise a few give-aways as well as keep you more updated with events at Meaux Towers.

    (But you know what I’m like with techy /internet stuff.  Can it really be all that difficult?  Promise:  I will do better! I will!  I will!)

    Oh, and I nearly forgot, the eleventh Hildegard is coming out on 31st March 2021.  It’s called MURDER AT BEAULIEU ABBEY and is available for pre-order from the happily not dauntless Waterstones bookshops. Support them and support  all bookshops.

    love and best wishes

    Cassandra