Category: Weekly Events

Tryfan, Snowdonia

Published on by Margaret9 Comments

Tryfan is the 14th highest peak in Wales at 3010 feet.

I took this photo from the car as we were travelling along the A5 in the Ogwen Valley, part of the Nant Ffrancon Pass. The A5 Holyhead to London trunk road was re-engineered by Thomas Telford between 1810 and 1826.

Here it was shrouded in clouds.

And here is a photo taken later that same day when the clouds had cleared a bit. The speck in the sky is a helicopter, possibly a mountain rescue helicopter from RAF Valley stationed on Anglesey.

An ABC Wednesday post T is for …

Crime Fiction Alphabet: T is for Once a Biker by Peter Turnbull

Published on by Margaret4 Comments

I’ve chosen Peter Turnbull’s Once a Biker, a Hennessey and Yellich mystery to illustrate the letter T in Kerrie’s Crime Fiction Alphabet. For a full list of his books see Fantastic Fiction.

Synopsis from the book jacket

When a death bed confession leads to the reopening of a murder case, it doesn’t bode well when both victims were members of the same bikers’ gang twenty years ago. As Detective Chief Inspector Hennessey and his team try to investigate, it seems the vow of silence is still as strong as it was all those years ago, and many ex-gang members refuse to discuss those days of dangerous initiation rites and violent dares. But, when an ex-member is suddenly found murdered, it seems that someone is determined to keep old secrets dead and buried…

My view

This is the 16th Hennessey and Yellich mystery, a police procedural set in the city of York. Once again I have jumped into a series that is well advanced in the sequence, but Once a Biker works well as a standalone. Chief Inspector George Hennessey is nearing retirement – ‘His pension was calling his name more and more loudly with each day that passed.’(page 15)  But he is still very much in charge and leads his team, Detective Sergeant Somerled Yellich, Detective Constables Thompson Ventnor and Reginald Webster (new to CID) in uncovering the murderer.

Tony Wells, dying of cancer in a hospice tells Gillian Stoneham, a counsellor, the whereabouts of Terry North’s body, buried in Foxfoot Wood outside York. Both Tony and Terry had been members of a bikers’ gang known as the Dungeon Kings. The post-mortem reveals that Terry had been killed by a blow to the head. There were fractures all over his body but no facial injuries. The pathologist Dr Louise D’Acre describes it as ‘a very dispassionate execution, but somebody wanted to hurt him before they killed him.’ (page 20)

One of the biker chicks had been murdered three weeks before Terry had been reported missing and Harry the ‘Horse’ Turner, a gang member had been convicted of her murder. Released from prison he now maintains that he was innocent and Hennessey believes him, but first he has to penetrate the bikers’ code:

“Don’t grass on your mates”. They are still bikers in their hearts, early middle-aged as they may be. Once a biker, always a biker. (page 62)

I know nothing about bikers and their gangs, but learnt a lot from this book, enough to make me glad that I didn’t – if the initiation ceremony is dangerous, the biker’s chicks’ leaving ‘ceremony’ is very brutal and shocking.

There is a very strong sense of place in this book, as George Hennessey walks to and from his office in Micklegate along the medieval city walls. I liked the chapter headings giving a short preview of the contents, in a similar vein to a Dickens’ novel, such as this for chapter 4 ‘Wednesday, 19 June, 10.10 hours – 13.40 hours in which life in the biker gang is recalled.’ (page 71) In places the dialogue also has an old fashioned feel and the use of words, such as ‘forenoon’ adds to the formality not found in most of today’s crime fiction books. I liked it.

There is an intriguing ending to this book involving George Hennessey which made me realise that I have missed something in not reading the earlier books in the series, something I hope to remedy.

  • Paperback: 201 pages
  • Publisher: Severn House Paperbacks Ltd (Jun 2008)
  • Language English
  • ISBN-10: 9781847510266
  • ISBN-13: 978-1847510266
  • Source: Borrowed from the library

Saturday Snapshot – Family

Published on by Margaret16 Comments

I don’t have many photos of my grandparents. Here are two.

The first is a photo of George Ellis Owens, my Taid (grandfather on my mother’s side) at his home in Penyffordd, North Wales. My mother has written on the back ‘My father 1930‘. He was born in 1880 and was a steel worker at John Summers at Hawarden Bridge Steelworks Shotton.

He is the grandparent I knew the most, because he and my grandmother came to live with us when I was 5. My granny died five years later and he lived to the ripe old age of 87, when I was 20. My other grandparents died when I was 6.

Below is a photo of  my granny, my father’s mother, taken in her garden at Bowdon Vale, Cheshire with my cousin Sylvia. I do remember her fairly well. She was always smiling in contrast to my granddad who was always grumpy, I thought. He had a big mustache and a loud gruff voice which made me nervous, plus he had his dog tied up to his armchair which scared me. She had her hair in a bun – just like grannies in picture books. She was born in 1878 and died when she was 74. I was named after her.

and this is me when I was 5½. I’ve cheated a bit here as this was a school photo.

To participate in Alyce’s Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. All Alyce asks is that you don’t post random photos that you find online.

ABC Wednesday – S is for …

Published on by Margaret6 Comments

… Alfred Sisley (1839 – 1899)

Sisley was an English Impressionist landscape artist, born in France where he lived for most of his life.

This is one of his paintings that particularly appeals to me – Small Meadows in Spring (c.1881)

This shows ‘le Chemin des Petits Prés‘, an oil painting of a riverside path which ran along the left bank of the Seine, connecting the villages of Veneux and By. The path has now been replaced by a paved walkway. The village visible on the opposite bank is Champagne.

First Lines

Published on by Margaret6 Comments

Currently I’m reading The Weather in the Streets by Rosamond Lehmann, but I’m getting increasingly tired of it. It maybe very well written, chronicling (in detail) the tension and despair in Olivia Curtis’s life as she has an affair with a married man in the 1930s, and no doubt it captures the spirit of the times of the interwar years but I just want to shake her. I’m probably in the wrong frame of mind to read it right now with its stream of consciousness style of writing and the small font that is blurring in front of my eyes as I read.

So this morning instead of struggling on with it I opened Once a Biker by Peter Turnbull, a Hennessey and Yellich mystery and began reading. It was a relief – the font size is much bigger, the writing is straightforward and the action is quick-moving.

I’ll write more about both books when I’ve finished them, but for now here are the opening lines of Once a Biker:

Monday, 17th June, 09.05 hours – 23.42 hours in which a realization comes to a dying man.

She had found the hospice had a wholly unexpected air of happiness about it. The peace of the institution she could understand, and indeed expected, as with the atmosphere of resignation, but the happiness of those awaiting death was something that came as a surprise. (page 1)

and of The Weather in the Streets:

Turning over in bed, she was aware of a summons: Rouse yourself. Float up, up from the submerging element … But it’s still night, surely … She opened one eye. Everything was in darkness; a dun glimmer mourned in the crack between the curtains. Fog stung faintly in nose, eyelids. So what was it: the fog had come down again: it might be morning. But I hadn’t been called yet. What was it woke me? Listen: yes the telephone, ringing downstairs in Etty’s sitting room; ringing goodness knows how long, nobody to answer it. (page 1)

Both books invite me to carry on reading. They are very different genres, but I’m keener to find out who killed Terry North, whose body has been found buried in a wood, twenty years after he disappeared, than I am to find out how Olivia’s affair progresses. I suspect it’s doomed.

A Book Beginnings post hosted by Katy at A Few More Pages.