"A thief or thieves ate a piece of chocolate cake"

Some writers get all the fun: Allan Guthrie and Denise Mina in Trinidad and Tobago. It's a hard life. Although, if you prefer, you could just relax at home with a tribute to Ian Rankin - the Rebus Rob Roy cocktail. Although...whisky, cherry liqueur, martini and lager? When I was five and my parents had a New Year's Eve party, I apparently got up early on New Year's Day, quietly went downstairs to a scene of apocalyptic devastation, ate a few soggy crisps and dried out cheese, pineapple and pickled onion on sticks and poured a few dregs into a glass and downed them. I think I invented the Rebus Rob Roy over 45 years ago. I felt awfully sick. But that might have been the cheese, pineapple and pickled onions. /anyway, I wonder if Ian drank a Rebus Rob Roy in honour of Bonham's auction of THE FLOOD. And I wonder how much it ended up going for.

And, talking about crime fiction authors in exciting places, Alexander McCall Smith goes to the opening of a meerkat enclosure.  And a night out with Irvine Welsh and the Jesus and Mary Chain.

Charles Cumming on the cost of train tickets to Scotland for Edinburgh Spy Week.And on spying and writing.

Louise Welsh talks about all sorts of things, including the first in her dystopian crime thriller trilogy A LOVELY WAY TO BURN. And more from Louise here.And a review in the Independent.

More reviews - this time for Val McDermid's re-working of NORTHANGER ABBEY.And another one from girlwitherheadinabook.

Caro Ramsay on inventing an island.

Finally, man hijacks plane with a Toblerone. About as much use as a chocolate sword. And, in other sweet-toothed crime, methinks drugs were involved somewhere along the line.

Enjoy your Easter eggs, dear Reader.

"We want to tax kittens"

No post last week, since I spent the week on a training course called Creative Reading? Why Not! in Lublin, Poland, where I met a lovely group of people from all over Europe, learned to juggle, went out and about in the streets of Lublin asking complete strangers to swap something they owned for a banana and ate far too many dumplings. Lovely.

First of all, the lovely people at Saraband - a smashing independent publisher based in Scotland - sent me debut novel FALLING FAST by Neil Broadfoot, which is due out in May. FALLING FAST is a deliciously twisty thriller that never lets up the pace.Edinburgh journalist, Doug McGregor, is on the trail of a particularly nasty ex-con - a convicted rapist who has been exposed for who he is and forced to go on the run. Meanwhile Doug's pal - and fount of much useful information - DS Susie Drummond is dealing with the case of a politician's daughter who has, apparently, killed herself by jumping from the Scott Monument. Thrills, spills, chills and kills. Good stuff.

Now, on to the Scottish crime fiction round-up. I'm guessing we're going to get quite a few Independence or not posts in the run up to the Referendum in September, so here are a couple to be going on with. Firstly, Lin Anderson on why English readers don't need independence from Scottish writers.And, then there's the always funny Douglas Lindsay whose Dr Ian Shackleton - senior lecturer at the Glasgow School of Politics and Football - is blogging for the Herald. Do read his first column. It's totally brilliant, but be aware that it is Mr Lindsay and not me who is responsible for images left in your brain of a bare chested Putin-esque Nick Clegg or Alex Salmond "swinging butt-naked on a wrecking ball." Cheers for that, Douglas.

Several pieces of Sherlock Holmes news today. More about the Conan Doyle home being turned into a school, and the newly discovered (on April 1st) Sherlock Holmes story. Then there's the strange connection between germs and Sherlock Holmes, a new exhibition in Sidmouth, and a slew of amateur sleuths caused by Sherlock.

You know you've arrived when your portrait is in a gallery. Ian Rankin looks happier to be outside the portrait than he does in it. And, if that's supposed to be Val, I doubt she's going to be best chuffed.

If you're in New Zealand, you can win an evening with Alexander McCall Smith.

An interview with my son Chris Ewan (grandma is proud, young Christopher)  about his new thriller Dead Line.

Finally - man breaks into a business using a flower pot, cooks macaroni cheese and passes out.

Limp Allegations?

Ian Rankin, Alexander McCall Smith and Stuart MacBride reveal their favourite books as children.

And a review of Stuart MacBride's A SONG FOR THE DYING, which, apparently, is not for those of delicate sensibilities. Heavens to Betsy.

Alexander McCall Smith is in Australia and talking about all sorts of things ,

Welcome home, Val McDermid.

While it pains me to link to the Daily Fail, I couldn't resist this tale of an Irvine Welsh fan with Trainspotting tattoos. Talking of Irvine Welsh, he unleashes some working class anger on the BAFTAs and is announced as Patron of Screen Education Edinburgh.

For those who are technically minded, a Sherlock Holmes interactive adventure.

Here's a lovely photography project called 100 Weeks of Scotland which, this week, features Ian Rankin, Val McDermid and Sara Sheridan.

A great review for Michael Malone's BLOOD TEARS from EuroCrime. Nice one, our Michael.

A number of Scotland's literati, crime writers amongst them, oppose a new concrete confection in Edinburgh.

Just in time to let you know that Alex Gray will be launching her new book - THE BIRD THAT DID NOT SING - in Newton Mearns this evening. And here's a review of it from Crime Fiction Lover. For those who wonder where the title comes from, here's an explanation of Glasgow's Coat of Arms. At least, I assume that's where the title comes from. Perhaps Alex once had a budgie with a broken wing.

Two linked (in a bizarre way) news items, man enhances own artwork. I do love the 'limp allegations" comment from the lawyer. Clearly not the "rigid feminine pleasure device" of this article.

Finally, if you suffer from coulrophobia, do not click on this link. I have to say that the guy standing by the police van looks decidedly miserable, despite his painted on smile.

"He was not dead, long story short"

Jose Ignacio Escribano over at The Game's Afoot reviews STRANGE LOYALTIES by William McIlvanney, The Spectator reviews Stuart MacBride's A SONG FOR THE DYING, the New York Times enjoys Denise Mina's THE RED ROAD and The Skinny reviews Christopher Brookmyre's BEDLAM.

Lots of Scotland's criminal luminaries (fictional, mostly) will be appearing at the Cromarty Crime and Thrillers Weekend between 25th and 27th April, including Ian Rankin, Lin Anderson, Alex Gray and Stuart MacBride, along with Ann Cleeves.

More appearances: first of all Val McDermid at the International Women's Festival in Dundee, and Denise Mina in Milwaukee on March 8th.

Here are Irvine Welsh's favourite albums. And what Ian Rankin has learned about writing.

The Deanston Scottish Crime Book of the Year award is now open for submissions.

The Sherlockians assess Benedict Cumberbatch. Or, as my man Ewan's mother misnamed him...Bernadette Cumberbitch.

Omnimystery News has a conversation with Alan Jones, author of Glasgow-set novel The Cabinetmaker. And I think Alan has set the standard for book launches: cabinet making and dancing. I hope you're taking notes, Michael Malone. I'm expecting a fancy set of drawers (of the wooden kind) and an Argentinian Tango at this.

This is my worst nightmare.

Finally, when I was a girl, Pippa Dee parties were never like this...

Is that a cucumber in your pocket or are you etc etc?

We've been finalising the programme for Crimefest in the last couple of weeks. So my job - trying to sort out panels for around 140 authors - is done. Panel assignments have mostly been sent to moderators and panellists, and now I just have to fine tune following the inevitable "Sorry, I can't make that date" e-mails. It's a great division of labour amongst the three co-hosts. Adrian does all the hard work, Myles is the technical genius, and I get the fun. The programme will soon be up online here. Looking forward to seeing some of you there!

Talking of programmes, the schedule for Glasgow's Aye Write is now available. Lots of good crime fiction related stuff, including a tribute to Iain Banks, Watching The Detectives: Serial Crime with Denise Mina, Sophie Hannah and Alex Gray, (Sophie Hannah also has an event called The Poetry of Sex which looks really good - her poetry is great fun and what's not to love about sex? Errrr...not sure that came out right...). Allan Massie and David Ashton talk about historical crime and Christopher Brookmyre pairs up with Barry Phillips in an event to talk about - amongst other things I'm sure - his science fiction thriller BEDLAM (if you go, do ask him about the roast chicken/Borders bookshop story). William McIlvanney, the Godfather of Tartan Noir will be speaking, and Stuart MacBride and Gordon Ferris have an event called Dark, Dark Noir. Louise Welsh talks about her new book A LOVELY WAY TO BURN, a thriller set in a dystopian future, and the first in a trilogy and Val McDermid is in conversation with comedian Susan Calman in what is sure to be a fun event. And I'm not sure if this is a crime novel or not, but Natalie Haynes will be talking about her new novel THE AMBER FURY, which sounds brilliant.

And, finally, an event about the fabulous 21 Revolutions book from Glasgow Women's Library.  I'm really excited to have a story in this gorgeous book, alongside such luminaries as Karen Campbell, Helen Fitzgerald, Zoe Strachan, Louise Welsh, Denise Mina, Laura Marney, A L Kennedy, Anne Donovan...The list of gloriousness is endless. Plus me. Unusually for me, mine is not a crime story, but a story about a suffragette on hunger strike in Glasgow's Duke Street prison. You can hear it here if remotely interested.

And now the non-festival news. Firstly, the ideal gift for the Sherlock Holmes fan in your life.And an article on Conan Doyle in fact and fiction. Mystery File reviews John Buchan's THE THREE HOSTAGES, and a review of Alexander McCall Smith's THE MINOR ADJUSTMENT BEAUTY SALON, who is also introducing Precious Ramotswe to younger readers.

A couple of nominations for Irvine Welsh's FILTH at the Empire film awards.

And, finally, I love the bloke's reaction to being arrested. 

So THAT'S where my snake went...

 A short, sharp summary this week...

Fancy a trip to a Sherlock Holmes Theme Park? And more Sherlock Holmes - this time in court. Talking of Holmes, I have no idea why, but David Cameron thinks Conan Doyle's going to help him in the fight against Scottish independence. Really, Dave? 

Iain Banks' final book is to come out in 2015. Here's an interview with Irvine Welsh about Filth.

Alexander McCall Smith talks about beginnings. And the jet-setting Smith will be in Australia in March.

A Q&A with Aline Templeton.


An article on how difficult it is for authors to get rid of fictional heroes, including Ian Rankin's Rebus and Philip Kerr's Bernie Gunther. And here's Ian Rankin being interviewed by Craig Ferguson.

Craig Russell on his characters' cars. And Val McDermid with her finger on the pulse.

Yes, I should say it is...

And, finally, Winnie The Pooh apparently lives up to his name. You might want to save this until after dinner.

Have a lovely weekend, dear Reader.

Roses Are Red...

As if you hadn't already realised,  we in Scotland love our crime fiction. I'm not one of the top 20, but thank you to those who borrowed OLD DOGS I got a nice wee PLR payment and treated myself to lunch out. Well, it was a sandwich from Greggs, but, still...

On to the round-up...

First off, a book I missed out from last week's post on Scottish crime fiction to look out for: Michael Malone's THE GUILLOTINE CHOICE, due out in March - set on the Devil's Island penal Colony. Looks great, our Michael!

Watch out for Quintin Jardine in a Scottish library near you over the next few weeks.

This week, it was Murder on the London-Edinburgh Express for Ian Rankin.

A new book about John Buchan and his appointment as Governor General of Canada. And, talking of John Buchan, Col's Criminal Library reviews THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS.

Here's a review of Peter May's ENTRY ISLAND, set in Quebec;

A review of the film version of Irvine Welsh's FILTH, and here's a deleted scene featuring the author himself. And Welsh talks about FILTH here, as well as how annoyed he would be if he was English. And how about a SKAGBOYS TV series?

If you're in Newcastle on February 20th, you might want to drop in on Val McDermid in conversation with Denise Mina and Louise Welsh.And Christopher Brookmyre brings BEDLAM to Newton Mearns.

A very British tiff over the re-naming of a lake to honour Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, with supporters enjoying a little bit of Morris dancing.


Finally, Happy Valentine's Day from Edinburgh city police.

My Life Of Crime

This week, I have been spending my time in court. But fear not, I have not been up to anything untoward (at least, not any more untoward that usual). Au contraire, dear reader. I was being a pillar of the community, doing jury service. I don't think I have ever been so bored in my puff. I turned up five days running (it was the days that were running, not your humble, chubby correspondent with the dodgy knee, I hasten to add) and did very little other than sit around and teach myself Polish. Were I to write a legal thriller (in this case, a veritable oxymoron) about my experience, it would read thusly:

Chapter 1: Day 1: Sat around for five hours waiting for someone to find the defendant. Learned some Polish. Defendant remained unfound. Sixty potential jurors who had bothered to turn up went home a tad miffed.

Chapter 2: Day 2: Sat around for four hours. An actual case started. 15 jurors' names were pulled out of a hat. Me and 44 other jurors were not pulled out of the hat but still had to sit around for a while just in case (just in case of what, I am not quite sure). Learned some more Polish. 45 potential jurors went away a tad miffed.

Chapter 3: Day 3: Presence not required. Went to work unmiffed. Did not learn any Polish.

Chapter 4: Day 4: Sat around for 5 and a half hours, with various periods of huge excitement, interspersed with learning some Polish. Huge excitement number 1: a case was announced. 60 potential jurors waited with bated breath for their names to be pulled out of the hat. Defendant took one look at the faces of 60 people with bated breath and promptly pleaded guilty. Huge excitement number 2: news of another case was rumbling through the court. A defendant came and sat next to me. I moved away. Not because he was a defendant, but because he had bathed that morning in a vat of hideous 1980s aftershave and I felt quite nauseous. Huge excitement number 3: all jurors were taken to a room in the basement (presumably so they could fumigate the court room of Old Spice). The coffee machine was not working. Huge excitement number 4: The coffee machine was fixed, approximately 20 seconds before someone remembered us and 60 jurors were sent away a tad miffed and with caffeine withdrawal.

Chapter 5: Day 5: Sat around for 2 and a half hours, tantalised by tales of 3 potential cases. Learned some Polish (irregular verbs). The 3 potential cases melted away into nothingness and 60 potential jurors were sent away rejoicing that the dullest, most frustrating week of their lives was over.

Epilogue: Polish is very, very difficult. Might need several more periods of jury service to get my tongue around even the most basic phrases. Very aptly, for example, 'stop, thief!' Or, as we say in Polish 'zatrzymać złodzieja!'
 
Some forthcoming Scottish crime fiction books to look forward to:
James Oswald's THE HANGMAN'S SONG in February
Danielle Ramsay's BLIND ALLEY in February 
M C Beaton's DEATH OF A POLICEMAN in February
Louise Welsh's A LOVELY WAY TO BURN in March
Val McDermid's NORTHANGER ABBEY in March
Lin Anderson's THE CASE OF THE BLACK PEARL in March
Alex Gray's THE BIRD THAT DID NOT SING in March
Philip Kerr's WINTER HORSES in March
Tony Black's THE INGLORIOUS DEAD in March
Russel McLean's MOTHERS OF THE DISAPPEARED in April
Gillian Galbraith's THE GOOD PRIEST in April
Sara Sheridan's ENGLAND EXPECTS in April
Gordon Ferris' GALLOWGLASS in April
Craig Robertson's THE LAST REFUGE in May 
Doug Johnstone's THE DEAD BEAT in May
Caro Ramsay's THE NIGHT HUNTER in July
Catriona McPherson's THE REEK OF RED HERRINGS in July
Malcolm Mackay's THE NIGHT THE RICH MEN BURNED in August

Nomm nomm. And, in the meantime, why not treat your kindle to some free Allan Guthrie

And now, for a wee Scottish crime fiction round-up.

A review of Ian Rankin's SAINTS OF THE SHADOW BIBLE which has put The Saints Are Coming by The Skids firmly in my head. Which, by the way, is a Very Good Thing. And I Prefer Reading revisits Josephine Tey's MISS PYM DISPOSES.

A Dylan Thomas treatment of a Robert Louis Stevenson short story to be broadcast. 

William McIlvanney talks to Scotland Tonight, Aline Templeton talks to Female First, and Irvine Welsh talks about FILTH and Scottish Independence.  

Utterly brilliant Douglas Lindsay and Barney Thomson news. 

Finally, Sherlock Holmes' Curly Fu and Peanut? Or how about some animated versions - including Sherlock Doo and Sherlock Hound. 

Miłego weekendu, moje Nadobnisie (I have no idea if that last word is right, by the way. I might have called you all a bunch of sky-blue-pink jellyfish).

Big Beat From Badsville Back From The Dead

Bless me blog, for I have sinned. It has been donkey's yonks since my last post, and I am now typing this blogpost to tumbleweed. However...

It is time to revive the old blog and post about all our wonderful Scottish crime writers. So, to start off, I have updated the author links on the right, adding a couple of new authors (such as Janet O'Kane, James Oswald, Jay Stringer, Marianne Wheelaghan and one Robert Galbraith (which just shows how long it has been since I updated). If you are a Scottish crime fiction author (born in, lived in, or not originally Scottish but live here now) and I don't have you listed, please let me know and I will add you to the list. If there is anything vaguely related to Scotland that might interest people (your latest book is set here, your protagonist is Scottish, your maternal grandmother once choked on a bite of haggis (you know, anything that would qualify you to play football for Scotland)) then let me know so I can post about it.

I will be re-commencing posting news and reviews of Scottish crime fiction authors and events. No doubt I will also be posting stuff and nonsense as it occurs to me (so I will apologise in advance for that - some things never change).

If there is anything you would like to see on this blog (including requests to disappear back into the ether), then please let me know.

I am looking forward to re-connecting with some lovely people and will hopefully see some of you at Crimefest this year.


Donna xxx

Gratuitous Holiday Post

Here are a few snaps from our Berlin trip this past week. One thing - I do not like new blogger. I cannot get the hang of how to format photos and words where I want them, so apologies if this is disjointed.

We arrived just in time for the May Day celebrations in Kreuzberg, where our apartment was this trip. 

 

               
I love Kreuzberg, but I think that my favourite part of Berlin from this trip was edgy, gritty, colourful, buzzing Neukölln.

 









You can buy really, really weird things in Neukölln. 

Like this. 

                          


And this.

     And, yes, there is a market for those dolls.

One of the best things about Berlin is all the green space, and several of the parks are absolutely nuts. Two of my favourites - Görlitzer Park in Kreuzberg and and Volkspark Hasenheide at the edge of Kreuzberg and Neukölln.

Volkspark Hasenheide had a funfair and this sign was up. It basically translates as "Rules for having Fun at the Carnival".


Just before we got to this sign, however, there was a very well organised and blatant drug dealing business going on. Apparently, Ewan and I do not look remotely like police as this was all conducted right in front of us.

Just around the corner from this sign was some sunbathing. Naked male sunbathing. I did not know whether to use my hands  to applaud the sunbather who was liberally slathering sun tan lotion on bits that should definitely never get sunburned (although I do think that he was having altogether too much fun doing it) or  gouge my eyes out

We also went to see Killing Joke while we were there. If you ever get a chance to see a band at the Fritz Club at the Postbahnhof, do. It's rather excellent. Killing Joke were great, and I think I caught Jaz Coleman in all his mad-eyed glory.

This car was just around the corner from our apartment. I think it had been there since before the wall came down. I don't know whether you can see, but it even has moss growing under the windscreen wipers.



What else did we do? Well, let's see. We enjoyed graffitti and street art...

Went sightseeing...

Had fun with some specimens at the natural history museum. You can't see this one in all its magnificence, but it was a huge room full of jars and jars of dead things...

...and one of these is the missing link. The other is some sort of neanderthal.

We went to see Hertha Berlin play a very exciting match at the enormous and atmospheric Olympic Stadium...

...we went on a tour of an underground bunker (no photos allowed) and we sampled life in a former East German apartment c.1970, which was fascinating. We were allowed to open all the cupboards, so I did. I found the most disgusting smelling bottle of kiwi liqueur and decided that I am not cut out for the life of Stasi era housewife, mainly due to the nylon aprons.

I am, however, absolutely cut out for this. I believe the translation of this particular menu item was "huge chunks of meat on a dangly stick". It also came with Bratkartoffel. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Finally, we are still puzzled by this sign for a shop called Real Time Honeymoon: "for the bride who dares".  Here, you can buy:

Bridalwear

Flower girl costumes

Girdles

and...errrrr...Lady Business





Tschuss! Bis bald.

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! Well, sort of

Hello, dear reader, if you are still with me. It has been yonks since I last posted. I think I've responded to all the individual e-mails asking where I was  (thank you so much for those), but just in case, I thought I'd do a wee post here. My brother was hit by a car nearly a month ago and things were not looking good for a while, so I have been spending a lot of time down in England. Things are much improved now and he is out of hospital and recuperating, but it was very scary at first.

I now know the answer to what I would do if contacted by the police. I was on my way to a meeting in Glasgow when my phone rang. "This is PC Thing from Cambridgeshire Traffic Police" (obviusly, Thing was not his actual name).

Now, there can be no good reason for Cambridgeshire Traffic Police to be calling me, so what was my reaction?  I have no idea why but I said, very brightly "Oh, hello!" as though I had entered a competition to win a million pounds and this was the organisers calling to tell me I had won. Anyway, I flew straight down (luckily I was in time to get a flight that evening (and huge thanks go to the very kind man in the boarding queue who overheard my half a very tearful phone conversation and offered to drive me from Stanstead Airport to Cambridge)) and got in to Cambridge just before midnight. It was a horrible night. However...things are so much better now.

In other news:
1. I am off to Berlin tomorrow for a few days rest and relaxation.
2. I applied for a part time job (2 hours a week) as a creative writing tutor to blind and partially sighted people and I got it! I'm so excited and can't wait to get started.
3. I am way behind with my dissertation.

Anyway, this is just a quick hello. I may post from Berlin, otherwise I will be back in a couple of weeks with your regularly scheduled Scottish crime fiction news.

Love,
Donna

Rumours of...

Since I've received a couple of e-mails asking if I'm OK, I thought I'd better post. This has been a really busy week (but wonderfully so) and this will continue into next week, so I haven't had a chance to blog.

So here's a wee story, in the absence of a proper blog post:

What Do I Get?

"Chocolate finger marks on the books? I don’t think so, young man." The wee boy gazes at Agnes in horror before scampering off, turning his head once to stick his tongue out. He catches up with his mum in the Romance section. She absent-mindedly ruffles his hair as she runs a finger along the shelf of books, only half-listening to his story of a wicked witch. Agnes hears the words with a pang, and touches the two dark hairs sprouting from the mole on her chin. The woman and her child pass her as they leave the library. She’s invisible as far as the mother is concerned, but the child sticks his nasty little tongue out at her again as he passes.

Agnes sighs, carefully wipes the offending chocolate from the shiny cover of the book and puts it back on the shelf. She plucks a miniscule piece of lint from the skirt of her good green-wool suit before making her way back behind the desk marked ‘Chief Librarian’. Her fortress. Twenty steps from Children’s Literature. Twenty long, torturous steps when the little devils are constantly smearing their dirty little fingers and snotty little noses over the precious books and Agnes has to rescue them.

Agnes lets out another sigh. She prefers the library when it’s shut. She always makes an excuse to stay late, wandering through the warren of dimly lit corridors and cavernous rooms, some of them filled with books that no-one has opened for a century. Except Agnes. On her rounds she makes a point of picking a dusty tome off a shelf, carefully cracking open the yellowed pages, and reading a sentence here, a paragraph there. These books need love, they need to know that someone still cares about the words inside. Besides, she’s got little to go home to these days. Jimmy speaks to her less and less and, when he does, it’s to berate or demand or argue. Agnes runs a finger across her tidy desk, feeling the grain of the old wood like a familiar comfort blanket under her touch.

As she sits herself down, smoothing her skirt carefully underneath her, she glances over at her assistant. Meadow’s desk is a pig sty – papers and books shoved to one side, the rest of the desk home to enough make-up to stock a counter at Boots. Meadow is adding an extra layer of midnight blue to eyelashes that are already ludicrously long, and caked in so much mascara that it looks as though sad black centipedes are drooping down onto her cheeks. The girl looks up, under Agnes’ accusing gaze.

“Off out with Diesel tonight. Friday...you know?” Meadow looks at Agnes, with that simpering, vacant smile she always has when talking about her latest beau. Meadow. Diesel. Whatever happened to normal names? There’s never a child in the library called Mary. Or Fred. Or even Jane or John. Agnes had got excited last week because a mother was registering her sweet-looking daughter – all long blonde curls and big blue eyes - for a library card. “No,” said the mother. “It’s not Jane, it’s J-H-A-I-N-N...and he’s a boy.”

Meadow pouts her shiny lips and adds another layer of lip-gloss. “Me and Diesel are off to that new club.” Agnes shudders at the bad grammar, but says nothing, even though she’s itching to. “You know the one I mean? Cocktails for a fiver before 10pm?” Agnes shakes her head. She’s never had a cocktail. She pictures herself perched on a stool in a crowded, noisy cocktail bar - a tad warm and sticky in her good, green-wool suit – enjoying a long drink in hues of orange and red, topped with a cherry and an umbrella. Jimmy’s never taken anywhere like that.

Meadow takes a final look at herself in the sparkly mirror she’s holding, before zipping up her designer handbag with a flourish. “Right, that’s me. I’m away. Don’t suppose you’re doing anything exciting this weekend, Aggie?”

Agnes bristles – she was christened Agnes, and there’s absolutely no reason to shorten it – but just shakes her head.

“No,” says Meadow, “I didn’t think so.” She plucks a turquoise raincoat off the back of her chair. “Right, I’m away. See ya Monday.” And, with that, she’s gone, leaving Agnes alone with a cloud of heavy perfume as the only reminder of another human presence.

Agnes potters around for a few minutes more, trying to put off the moment when she has to leave. Eventually, however, she takes a large set of keys from her drawer, fastens the buttons on her suit jacket, picks up her handbag – no designer one for her, just the same black bag she’s had for the last twenty years. Its old-fashioned clasp gives a comforting clunk as she snaps it shut. She locks the library door behind her and sets off for the bus stop. A six and a half minute walk to the bus stop, twenty minutes or so to get home.

As she reaches the stop, the number 62 draws up. Two young men in shell suits shove her out of the way as they pile onto the bus, laughing and swearing at each other. Agnes steps onto the bus and puts her money in the receptacle. As she does, she looks at the elderly driver and smiles. “Young people today,” she says, just wanting a connection, wanting a few words from a co-conspirator. But he simply shrugs and presses the buttons on the ticket machine. She takes the ticket from the slot and moves down the bus as the driver pulls roughly away from the stop.

There are no free seats, and no-one wants to catch Agnes’ eye to offer her theirs. She’ll have to stand as usual. Her feet are aching, but it’s not that far. She’s been on them all day, so another twenty minutes is neither here nor there. Two days before she can get back to the library again. Two whole days with just Jimmy. If she’s lucky. If she’s not lucky, it will be two whole days with Jimmy and one of his pals – Mr Grant, Mr Bell or Mr Johnnie Walker.

As the bus pulls up at her stop she steps off. “Thanks driver.” The driver doesn’t even turn his head, just pulls away from the kerb. Agnes walks the rest of the way to the house. As she reaches the gate, her mobile phone beeps. She stops and takes it out of her bag. A text from Jimmy. ‘Get me cigs.’ Agnes looks at the phone in her hand and sighs. She’d better do it. She turns away from the gate and trudges back up the road in the direction she came from, towards the Tesco Express on the corner.

She picks up a loaf of bread before standing in the queue for cigarettes. A woman pushes in front of her, hitting Agnes in the arm with her basket, snagging the good, green-wool suit. The woman tuts and glares at Agnes, as though it’s Agnes’ fault. “Excuse me, I was here first,” says Agnes, mildly. The woman sneers at her, then turns away, pointedly.

Agnes lets herself in the front door. “Jimmy? I’m home.”

“About bloody time, too. You get my cigarettes?” Jimmy is in the living room – unshaven, in the same stinking clothes he’s been wearing for the past four days, a full ash tray and an almost empty bottle of whisky in front of him. She was wrong. It’s Famous Grouse today.

“Aye. Here you go.” She hands him the cigarettes, which he snatches from her, without looking at her. He’s watching an episode of Jeremy Kyle on TV, gleefully immersing himself in other people’s misery, but unable to see hers.

“How was your day?” She doesn’t really want to know, but it’s automatic, after all these years.

“Shite.” His response is automatic, too. “When’s dinner?”

“About half an hour, that OK?” It will have to be. He could have got it himself but, of course, he hasn’t. He grunts, without taking his eyes off the TV.

Agnes goes into the kitchen, gets mince out of the fridge, potatoes and onions out of the cupboard. She takes the chopping board from behind the taps, and opens the drawer for a sharp knife. She starts to chop the onion. It would be nice to go out and eat – a curry, maybe. She’s never had one - Jimmy doesn’t like ‘that foreign shite’ as he calls it. It’s always mince and potatoes on a Friday.

“Bring me another bottle of whisky.”

“Just a sec,” she calls out.

“Hurry up.” He’s quite talkative tonight.

Agnes puts the knife down on the chopping board, opens the door of the cupboard under the sink and takes out a bottle of Johnnie Walker. As she stands up, Jimmy shuffles into the kitchen. “Might as well do it myself.” He snatches the bottle out of her hand and concentrates on unscrewing the lid.

Agnes turns back to chopping the onion. She places the knife carefully on the purple skin and cuts.

“And bloody hurry up with the dinner. My belly thinks my throat’s cut.”

“Really, Jimmy?” Agnes turns, the knife in her hand and slashes it across his throat. She watches as he drops to the floor, clutching at his throat. The bottle of whisky crashes to the ground and the liquid inside mixes with his blood. She steps back, as it winds its way towards her shoes. The smell of whisky is overpowering.

Agnes looks down at the knife in her hand. The cuffs of her good, green-wool suit are dark with blood and there are splotches of it on her skirt. She puts the knife back down – carefully - on the chopping board, steps over Jimmy’s body and out of the kitchen. As she walks up the stairs she takes off her jacket and starts to undo her skirt. She walks into the bathroom and puts the soiled items in the bath, before washing her hands in the sink, using her elbow to press the plunger of the soap dispenser, so as not to get blood everywhere. She’ll need to take the suit to the dry cleaner’s before she goes back to work on Monday.

She walks into the bedroom she used to share with Jimmy and opens the door of the wardrobe. She takes her good, blue-wool suit off the hanger and puts it on. She’s hungry. Perhaps she’ll go out for dinner. A curry. And then a cocktail, maybe. Yes, that would be nice.

"Wig hat jack knife, Out on bail for life"

Happy International Women's Day with The Cramps' DAMES, BOOZE, CHAINS AND BOOTS.

Nice prizes for the Bloody Scotland short story competition, and Scottish crime fiction authors provide some short story advice.

Crime Fiction Lover reviews Doug Johnstone's HIT AND RUN, Tricky Nag reviews several Alexander McCall Smiths, while Cozy Library reviews just the one. And a review of Josephine Tey's THE FRANCHISE AFFAIR.

Is the Edinburgh Guide calling Ian Rankin a twit? See Ian in Lochgelly on May 30th. And Mysteries in Paradise reviews the audio version of WITCH HUNT.

Val McDermid on the intellectual property issue, and the value of publishers. And a review of Val's stage play.

And, talking of stage plays, Ian Pattison has written a play about my least favourite politician (and there are plenty of candidates to choose from).

See youse after the weekend. Busy weekend (did I mention I'm in a play, gawd help us?) and then it's off to see the brilliant Killing Joke on Monday.

"Got the shim sham shimmy rushin' up my spine"

I cannot find Super Goo on youtube, but that's where today's Cramps lyrics come from.

I had a lovely,but very busy, weekend. I was on a training course for facilitators of workshops for creative writing for health and wellbeing. It was such good fun, I met some lovely people and it's really going to be helpful for my university placement. As a result, however, I'm even more behind than normal. Oh dear.

Some of the UK's literary festivals are featured here. But it's not a full round-up, by any means.

The World According To Who? reviews Val McDermid's FEVER OF THE BONE, Martin Stanley thoroughly recommends Ray Banks' GUN, Grecian Urn looks at Kate Atkinson's CASE HISTORIES, The Star Online enjoys Ian Rankin's THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD and Eva Hudson reviews Denise Mina's THE END OF THE WASP SEASON.

Are women writers taken seriously?

The Daily Record talks to William McIlvanney.

Quintin Jardine on Scottish independence. He's...errrrrrr...not particularly keen on politicians.

Alexander McCall Smith will be at the Wivenhoe Bookshop this Thursday. And he's interviewed by the New Zealand Herald.

"Well I don't know about art, but I know what I like"

My all time favourite Cramps song. I taught my Mum to do the Chicken Strut to this one. Ah, my lost youth as part of the psychobilly wrecking crew... Talking of my mother, I am a tad worried she has discovered the internet (which she calls That Microwave). I received an e-mail today which said, in part: "Dear Ms Moore, I have just finished Old Dogs. It really made me laugh, apart from the bad language." Whoops, sorry 'C'.

Look at this smashing line-up for Bloody Scotland. Sign up for the newsletter for all the latest news.

Some Blasted Heath news, with signing of new author Anonymous 9 (aka Elaine Ash), a guest post from the recently signed H J Hampson. Oh, and Len Wanner's most excellent THE CRIME INTERVIEWS: VOLUME 1 is available for £1.99 in the UK and $3.16 in the US.

An audio review of Denise Mina's THE END OF THE WASP SEASON, a review of Catriona McPherson's AFTER THE ARMISTICE BALL. Publisher's Weekly reviews Philip Kerr's PRAGUE FATALE. And a few reviews for Doug Johnstone's new one, HIT AND RUN. I'm looking forward to it myself. As soon as I stop writing essays.

Ian Rankin chooses his New Elizabethan on BBC Radio 4's Front Row.

A wee rant about Ryanair from Quintin Jardine.

Helen Fitzgerald is looking for your thoughts on adaptations (and do check out the wee video promo for The Donor below the adaptations post - very funny).

Alexander McCall Smith on bringing people back to reading.

The Week talks about the various incarnations of Sherlock Holmes.

Irvine Welsh's ECSTASY premieres at the Glasgow Film Festival.

Savidge Reads blog gives Val McDermid a grilling.

"You gotta beat it with a stick"

Your weekly Cramps with Garbageman.

Rob Kitchin reviews Philip Kerr's PRAGUE FATALE over at The View From The Blue House, Karen at Eurocrime says that Alexander McCall Smith's PRECIOUS AND THE MONKEYS is a delightful book and Maxine at Petrona calls Peter May's THE LEWIS MAN "a readable mystery with a tragic core".

Val McDermid celebrates her 25th book. Congratulations Val.

Lucy Liu to play Sherlock Holmes' sidekick John...errrrrr...Joan Watson.

Iain Banks at the Hexham Book Festival.

Lots of upcoming events for Alex Gray as she launches her new book A POUND OF FLESH. And both Alex and Caro Ramsay will be at the Lit Up Festival in Renfrewshire at the end of March.

Ian Rankin and Doug Johnstone's Twitter chat is quoted in the Independent.

Why I Really Like This Book features Josephine Tey's MISS PYM DISPOSES.

An excellent and funny article by Anthony Horowitz on whether authors still need publishers.

And, finally, 9 foreign words the English language really needs (hat tip to the lovely Steve Mosby). I must admit, I rather like Pilkkunnussja. I would add a 10th word - one that I was told when I was in Alaska - Slaqtaaq.

"Baby baby baby, you've got good taste"

Pre-weekend Cramps.

Books4Spain talks to Quintin Jardine.

BCF reviews Stuart MacBride's BIRTHDAYS FOR THE DEAD, Random Writings reviews Philip Kerr's FIELD GRAY, Fresh Meat looks at M C Beaton's DEATH OF A KINGFISHER, Crime Pieces reviews Peter May's THE BLACK HOUSE, and Page Turners reviews Alexander McCall Smith's THE SUNDAY PHILOSOPHY CLUB.

Talking of Alexander McCall Smith, his 44 SCOTLAND STREET will be on BBC4 Radio 4 from Monday 30th April.

More on the Margins Book and Music Festival.

Len Wanner at The Crime of It All interviews Paul Johnston. And an interview with Bill Kirton.

Win a copy of Val McDermid's THE RETRIBUTION courtesy of the lovely people at Crimespree Magazine.

Finally, the museum on which I based the one in OLD DOGS had a bronze head stolen. How do you sneak out of a museum with a bronze head that's approximately a foot square and weighing 13kilos? I know the price of scrap metal is on the increase, but I work that out to be roughly £40.

"I'm the maddest road rattler that you ever done met"

Title courtesy of The Cramps, as usual.

This weekend's cinematic viewing was Martha Marcy May Marlene which was a very creepy and unsettling film about a girl who escapes from a cult. Her experience is shown in an understated way through flashbacks. John Hawkes is fantastic as the charismatic and chilling Manson-like cult-leader Patrick (he also played the scary Uncle Teardrop in Winter's Bone) who renames all his female acolytes in a very simple but effective way of showing who's in control.

Paul Johnston is interviewed over at The Crime of It All.

Russel McLean teams up with ShortbreadStories to help the Million For a Morgue campaign.

Crime Pieces reviews Peter May's THE BLACK HOUSE, The World According To Who reviews Ian Rankin's DOORS OPEN, Eurocrime reviews Val McDermid's THE RETRIBUTION and Music And More reviews Ray Banks' WOLF TICKETS.

Ian Rankin says that authors need publishers.

A Val McDermid short story takes to the stage. And Val herself will be appearing at the Scarborough Literature Festival in April.

Another Festival - this one in July in King's Lynn and featuring Philip Kerr. And Stuart MacBride will be talking about BIRTHDAYS FOR THE DEAD in Perth on March 13th.

Declan Burke talks to Allan Guthrie, amongst others, on ebook pricing.

"Wiggle your ears to get into the groove"

Have a wee Zombie Dance with The Cramps.

Panels for Crimefest are now up.

Alexander McCall Smith at the Oundle Literary Festival at the beginning of March, and in Buffalo, NY in April. Closer to home, Iain Banks is appearing in Edinburgh at the beginning of April. And Helen Fitzgerald is all over the place, the lucky minx. Sadly, I shall miss her Glasgow event by two days, and her Berlin event by two months. Luckily, I get to quiz her at Crimefest, along with Douglas Lindsay, Michael Malone and Damien Seaman. And Christopher Brookmyre, Stuart MacBride and Craig Robertson will be revealing their secrets in Aberdeen at the end of May. And Irvine Welsh will be appearing at Apple's Glasgow Buchanan Street store on Sunday to talk about ECSTACY. And here's the man himself as an extra in FILTH, which is currently filming in Edinburgh.

Lots of reviews today. Eurocrime reviews Craig Russell's THE DEEP DARK SLEEP, The Big Issue reviews Peter May's THE LEWIS MAN, Bestsellersworld on DEATH OF A KINGFISHER by M C Beaton, Norm at Crimescraps on Charles Cumming's THE TRINITY SIX, WildmooBooks reviews Val McDermid's REPORT FOR MURDER, Rikki's Teleidoscope reviews Alexander McCall Smith's THE COMFORTS OF A MUDDY SATURDAY.

The Indie Pedant looks forward to Irvine Welsh's SKAGBOYS.

Lovely Scottish publisher Blasted Heath buys a black comedy called THE VANITY GAME by H J Hampson. Excellent! I love black comedy and I love football. Result.

Popmatters reports that US crime overtakes British romance in British libraries. Luckily, Ian Rankin is holding up the side for the Brits.

Edinburgh's New Town to celebrate its literary history. And The Scotsman reports that Scottish arts would benefit from Scottish independence.

Jonny Lee Miller is to play Sherlock Holmes in a US TV version set in contemporary New York.

Denise Mina talks to Forbidden Planet about comics.

Finally, the Herald are looking for your help to come up with the rest of the list of the Top 100 Scottish novels. They already have 30 and there are plenty of familiar names in there.

Her Love Rubbed Off

An apt Cramps title for the blog post today. And, to celebrate Valentine's Day, those lovely people at Pulp Press and For Books' Sake have reduced the price of the Short Stack anthology in the UK, or US for the day. What could be more romantic for Valentine's Day than giving your lover ten tales of brutal, ferocious crime fiction written by ten brutal, ferocious women? And if that's not cheap enough for you, you can win a copy here.

This weekend's cinematic viewing was the directorial debut of Paddy Considine, starring the brilliant Peter Mullan as Joseph - a man who is violent and brutal and shown as totally unlikeable right from the start (really, you have been warned), and the equally brilliant Olivia Colman as Christian charity shop volunteer Hannah - a woman with a secret. Harrowing, bleak and really, really sad. I was crying from the opening scene and was never far from a hanky for the rest of the film.

A review of Val McDermid's THE RETRIBUTION, two for M C Beaton with DEATH OF A PERFECT WIFE and AGATHA RAISIN AND THE QUICHE OF DEATH, and Groovy Daz with a groovy review of Ray Banks' DEAD MONEY.

Aly Monroe with one of her usual thoughtful and interesting posts - this one on character behaviour and reader reactions.

Huge congratulations to Helen Fitzgerald whose excellent THE DEVIL'S STAIRCASE goes into film production later this year.

Alex Gray on why crime fiction is the most borrowed genre in Britain's libraries. And The Scotsman considers the same topic and the legacy of William McIlvanney's Laidlaw.

Tony Black's THE STORM WITHOUT is to be published by a new independent publisher from Newcastle - McNidder and Grace.

And just in case you're looking for the perfect gift this Valentine's Day...