Tulip time

I took this picture outside the Church of St John the Baptist in Yeovil on a sunny early evening last week. I haven’t seen such a kaleidoscopic display since visiting Keukenhof in Holland. If you haven't been, put it on your bucket list, and order yourself some parrot tulips in September. (These outrageous pink ones were bought - like all my bulbs - from Peter Knyssen, here.)

The reason I was in Yeovil is that it was the last evening of our Three Faces of Crime Tour, a whistlestop whizz round the West Country with fellow crime-writers Diane Jeffrey and Tina Orr Munro. As well as meeting readers, we were keen to explain the difference between the three main crime sub-genres – namely psychological thrillers (Diane), police procedurals (Tina) and cosy (me). Along the way we met dozens of lovely readers, and sold lots of books. (If you’re here because you signed up via my magic clipboard, welcome!)

The tour involved a lot of travelling, specially for Diane, who is a North Devonian by upbringing but lives in Lyon, France; her journey to the first event in Barnstaple involved a car, aeroplane, coach, train and finally another car. Miraculously every stage happened on time.

After our Taunton gig, I arrived home to a calamity. (If you love dogs and hate cats, look away.) Maxim, our grey and white tabby, rolled over to reveal a bright orange – and I mean NEON – underbelly. We sponged and dabbed, and even considered putting him under the shower, but the stain wouldn’t budge. In one way I wish we’d taken a picture, but I don’t think animals should be held up to ridicule. 

The following morning I went out on our roof deck and the cause of the disaster was revealed. I recently installed a sheet of Corten steel under the barbecue, in case a hot coal should drop and set the place alight. It’s normal for this type of steel alloy to rust, and Maxim evidently decided it would be fun to roll on it while wet. 

Thanks to judicious licking, the stain has now vanished. (I don’t like to think of a cat ingesting iron oxide, but apparently it won’t hurt him unless he makes a habit of it.) And here to prove it, here he is curled up with the most delightful children’s book, Bosun Bob and the Cat With No Name, written by Erin Allgrove and illustrated by Emily Langstaff-Ellis. It’s the sequel to Bosun Bob The Salty Sea Dog, and wish I was aged six, so someone would read me to sleep with it.