What can you find here? Reviews of new and not quite so new Sherlock Holmes novels and collections. Interviews with authors, link to blogs worth following, links to where you can purchase my books and some reviews of my work garnered from Amazon sites. Plus a few scary pics of me and a link to various Lyme Regis videos on YouTube...see what we do here and how....and indeed why!!! Next to the Lyme Regis Video Bar is a Jeremy Brett as Holmes Video Bar and now a Ross K Video Bar. And stories and poems galore in the archives.

Tuesday, 26 February 2008



A new home, a new life.......something which had been on the cards for sometime but now fully realised at last. A chance visit to an old friend in a quiet seaside town had given me the impetus to make the changes I needed to make and a few short months later here I was. I had purchased a cottage in the old part of town with enough money left over to live fairly comfortably. It is a town much frequented by writers and artists and whilst I considered myself as neither one or the other, I had ambitions in those directions.

I found myself a part time job to while away some of my time, the job was neither demanding nor exciting, just a little driving position, if nothing else, it gave me the opportunity to see more of the area than perhaps I would have done otherwise. I managed to get the cottage straight and almost homely within days, my possessions were few and my needs simple, as long as I had a home for my CDs and books, I was happy.

I noticed quickly how the narrowness of the street combined with the height of the buildings conspired to trap noise and amplify it, conversations of a not particularly loud nature could be heard clearly at night when all else was still but still I was surprised one night to be woken by the sound of a violin being played. I was only disturbed momentarily however, long enough to register the beauty of the playing before I fell back into a deep sleep. In the morning, I could not be sure whether I had dreamt the episode, I had never heard it being played before, but then maybe last night was especially quiet, but then again it must have been around one in the morning and would I really expect to hear someone practising on their instrument at that time ? . It was hardly important anyway and I resolved to put it out of my head.

A few nights later I found my sleep disturbed again by the sound of the violin, I knew this time it definitely wasn't a dream......I sat upright in bed listening and as before it was truly beautiful, I couldn't tell you what was being played, my knowledge of classical music was skimpy to the point of it being non-existent but even I could appreciate the wonder of the piece, it was both hypnoptic and comforting. I glanced at my watch, one-thirty in the morning. I listened for a couple of minutes before and then the playing abruptly stopped and although my night had been disturbed I was strangely disappointed at the cessation of this night music.

The next day was taken up with more mundane matters such as work in the morning and in the afternoon I had arranged for a local electrician to have a look in the wiring in the cottage, it looked as though it had had no attention for a long time. He comfirmed my fears after inspecting fully the intricacies of the electrics and announced it would need re-wiring completely and the sooner the better. It was an expense I had not budgeted for yet I could hardly not have the work done, safety was paramount.

That night, I was again awoken by the sound of the violin, this time my violinist, whoever he or she may be, was playing a more urgent piece, it filled my mind, my soul even......I was entranced. Strangely, it seemed much louder.....was this due to the different nature of the piece being played ?.......but, no it seemed not only louder but closer too. I got out of bed and crossed to the window and looked out into the empty street, all was peaceful out there and as far as I could tell, no one else was disturbed by the quite, quite beautiful music.

The next day, I had the notion of asking around to see if I could shed any light on the violinist who felt the need to practice at such unsociable hours. In the end I thought better of it and one of the reasons was that I did not want it to stop, I had become enraptured by the music as though it was only for me and I did not want to take the chance that by asking questions I may inadvertently have put he or she off from playing.

That night again followed the same pattern as before, the music would wake me around one-thirty and shut off abruptly a few minutes later, The difference this time was that the music was undeniably louder and closer to me, if I hadn't known better I would have sworn that the music was coming from within the bedroom itself. I put my ear to the wall which connected me to the next cottage, it wasn't coming from there but it was so very near, again I looked out of the window into the empty street, I don't know what I thought I was going to see....a man or woman playing the violin feverishly under the street lamp maybe ?

The day passed in a dream, all I could think about was this strange, beautiful music which visited me night after night and that night I was in a positive hurry to go to bed. I slept well surprisingly but was drawn out of my sleep once again by the sound of the violin. I can't really describe to you how this music made me feel it was possibly the most beautiful melody I had ever heard or maybe, will ever hear. I looked towards the bedroom door for it seemed to be that's where this spellbinding music was coming from. There was a dim light by the door which became a glow and gradually this nebulous shape became the figure of a man, his right hand gliding the bow across his violin, he backed away from the door towards the stairs, his eyes imploring me to follow. I was by now wholly trapped within this glorious, bewitching music and I followed willingly.....all the way down the stairs he went, playing all the time. Before I knew it, I was out in the street, he was out there, still playing although I had not seen him open the front door, in fact I knew he hadn't as I had to draw the bolt back. He looked at me one last time and this fabulous melody, this beautiful melody came to an end abruptly. He was gone. I had not time to ponder on this for there came a sharp crack from within the cottage and all at once the bedroom was engulfed in flames. There was a phone box on the corner and I sprinted those few yards in record time and dialled 999.

The first fire engine was there in minutes and I watched them go about their work, the flames were everywhere now, licking out from every window, the smoke billowing down the street taking with it my dreams.
After a few hours, the fire was out and everything had been dampened down, the fire chief was sifting through the wreckage, no doubt looking for the cause of the fire. I was in a neighbours' house, she had very kindly taken me in and had given me a breakfast and kept me supplied with an endless stream of coffee. All I think about was how I would still have been in the bedroom had I not followed my violinist into the street, was it a precognitive dream then ? apparition formed only in my mind by God knows what processes ?.....I did not know, only that I had been saved.

There was a knock at the door and the fire chief came in, his eyes were full of pity for me " Sorry Sir, we weren't able to save much I'm afraid".
I mumbled something in return. " It looks as though the wiring may have been at fault Sir, started in the bedroom and spread very quickly through the rest of the house....some of your books may have survived Sir but little else, save for this, which we found in the bedroom and somehow it wasn't touched by the fire. "

He handed me a violin, unmarked, untouched.

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