So the Labour pains are over, my next book is born except the choice is now down to two. The first is vaguely about Barbara Villiers from whom I am proudly descended , you will all know she was Charles 2nd most infamous mistress, she once pleasured a dead Bishop, now I understand that is a contradiction in terms etc but do not chooses to go into the painful details. The second also vaguely concerns the magnificent Rachel Pringle yes without an e.. who ran a fabulous brothel in Bridgetown in which the future King William 4th pleasured himself. The two women were of course magnificent whores, poles apart you might say, but think about it … not really, and they probably both had the pox which no doubt affected the Royal dynasty’s .
Historical fiction is a tricky one but it is essential to get the period accurately focused to real events at the time and those must be recorded without fault. I had a communication from a reader yesterday in which she “kindly” said how much she adored my book Summer’s Grace “But there is just one thing she announced … “Pizarro” was actually a Portuguese Conquistador in the fifteenth century. Sure he was, but no amount of patience could convince her that the great Spanish Admiral Don Hose Pizarro, who features in my book set in the eighteenth century actually existed … no she protested you have your dates wrong… I rather like the he couldn’t have been there. I sent her the Biography of Don Hose ….. do you think she will read it .. no folks not a chance . It rather pissed me off actually but there was a reason I was generous enough to give this whole annoyance airtime. The trick is when people get to the “but “ thing just cut them off. I am happy to say this is the first “but” I have had with this one .
The other night I was with a lot of people who were partially deaf, one of them shamelessly borrowed my pashmina, I shivered for a bit while she nuzzled into it in a rather “owning” way stroking it affectionately . Then I got the window shut which needed a a very long hook and two liveried men to do it. I politely asked if I could have my pashmina back now. She looked resentful and said “ why did you ask me if I was a Catholic.” My immediate neighbour intervened and she reluctantly returned it and asked if I had ever thought of writing a book ? I did not have a chance to reply, and anyway I didn’t see the point.. she replied to her own enquiries .. I noticed that old deaf people do that. They just burble on with things stuck all over them …. other people’s pashminas, bits of food and stolen phones. “Plus ca change”