"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.

"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.

"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.

"Tomorrow will be gloomy with a chance of morning frogs"

Your Friday morning Cramps.

Panel assignments for Crimefest have been issued. I'm moderating a panel called Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know, with Helen Fitzgerald, Douglas Lindsay, Michael Malone and Damien Seaman. I'll leave you to decide which of them are mad. I am currently thinking about the fiendish homework I am planning to set...

A review of Ian Rankin's THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD, reviewingtheevidence on Aly Monroe's ICELIGHT and Lin Anderson's PICTURE HER DEAD, The Game's Afoot reviews Val McDermid's A PLACE OF EXECUTION and a review of Stuart MacBride's SHATTER THE BONES.

Several Denise Mina events at the New Zealand International Arts Festival.

Alexander McCall Smith in St Louis, Missouri on April 16th.

Douglas Lindsay on naming THE UNBURIED DEAD.

North East Life talks to Val McDermid.

Tony Black's GUTTED becomes GELYNCHT in German (which, if my German is up to it, translated as LYNCHED). Gratuliere, Tony! There's also a wee video auf deutsch to go with it.

Norfolk is a big fan of crime fiction - some nice events in March and it's the most borrowed genre in local libraries.

Edinburgh Book Festival Director says that the book festival should be about books, not celebrities. Well done, that man.

Kate Atkinson on her MBE.

Finally, a rather sneery article about genre fiction.

Don't Mess With Me - I'm Savage and Brutal

First of all, I'm very excited to announce that my short story DEPRAVITY LANE appears in SHORT STACK - a new anthology of pulp fiction written by women (the US kindle version is here). The print version will follow. This is the result of a competition held by the wonderful people at For Books' Sake and Pulp Press last year.

I'm very, very glad I have the flu because I've spent the day in bed reading all the other stories and I'm so pleased to be included in such a wonderful line-up. The characters include punk rock journalists, zombies and xenobiologists, and there are stories of freaks and fairytales, sadness and madness, disease and destruction, revenge, weirdness and just good, old-fashioned nastiness. Apparently, we are "a savage and brutal bunch". Excellent. Dad, this one is not for you. Don't even mention it to Mum. My own story is a wee homage to one of my favourite books and films - Nightmare Alley (which gives me the opportunity to steal this brilliantly doctored poster courtesy of the marvellous Smudge MacRae at Blasted Heath).

The other stories are by Shelagh M. Rowan-Legg, Bernadette Russell, Jane Osis, Zoe Lambert, Icy Sedgwick, Evangeline Jennings, Gill Shutt, Claire Rowland and Mihaela Nicolescu. A tasty treat for fans of wicked women.

Ian Rankin calls the BBC a bunch of fannies and numpties (and Val McDermid isn't very happy either). And Ian also complains about his scantily clad Twitter followers.

Alexander McCall Smith talks about medical ethics and teapots (yes, it's the Daily Mail).

Austcrime reviews Gordon Ferris' TRUTH DARE KILL, a review of Val McDermid's THE RETRIBUTION and A DARKER DOMAIN and Eurocrime reviews Lin Anderson's PICTURE HER DEAD.

An interview with Christopher Brookmyre.

Douglas Lindsay is his usual hilarious self.

Ray Banks on the state of crime fiction. Some great points in the comments - especially Steve Mosby's.

Kill The Poor

I thought this track from The Dead Kennedys was apt, since I believe it is Her Maj's favourite punk song. I appear to have been invited to a Royal Garden Party. Thinking fast, I said I would only go if my Mum wanted to go. Since, apparently "Scotland's too far to come and visit you now I'm 80, our Donna", I thought I would be safe. How wrong I was. Apparently, Scotland is now a mere sparrow's fart away. Her only worry is that she now has to find a fascinator. And now I, too, am left with the terrible dilemma of finding a fascinator that matches my Docs.

My Mum now has the other residents of the retirement community curtseying to her when they meet in the hallways. And then there's my poor Dad...I said to Mum that she needed photographic ID to get into the Palace, and no, that her pension book wasn't enough. "What about your passport?" I said.

"I think my passport's out of date since my ankles are too big to fly, these days," (don't ask).

I heard my Dad in the background "My passport's in the kitchen drawer."

"We don't care about your passport, Patrick," came the scathing response. "Who is it that's going to the Royal Garden Party?" Silence. "Who, Patrick, who?"

"You, dear."

"That's right. So, what don't we care about?"

"My passport, dear."

"Exactly."

I have created a monster. A monster who is now on the hunt for a fascinator.

Irvine Welsh's ECSTASY is screened in London on February 9th.

A review of Val McDermid's THE RETRIBUTION.

Ian Rankin's THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD on ABC Radio National. And Mr Rankin himself on his best story ever.

Gordon Ferris' THE HANGING SHED has, apparently, sold 150,000 e-copies.

Alexander McCall Smith to appear at Scotland's most remote literary festival.

An interview with Michael Malone.

A set of first editions by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is discovered in a charity shop.

Denise Mina wonders if sentiment is the new taboo.

For my latest blog post over at Blasted Heath, the talented Smudge doctors a poster for Nightmare Alley to make me look almost attractive. Well, from the neck down, anyway.

Tomorrow, it's the last proper day of lectures on my course before I start on my placement, and then I'm off to Allan Guthrie's event at Strathclyde University before going out to dinner with lovely pals Tony Black, Michael Malone and Kieran G. I'm planning to get them drunk so they will tell me all their secrets. I will, of course, share those secrets with you, dear Reader.

Has it really been a week?

Hello, world, I'd forgotten what you look like. You're really rather lovely, aren't you?

Essays are done, but were swiftly followed by more whooshing deadlines. This week's involved me sitting on a bus listening to conversations. This almost led to me getting my wee head kicked in. But it was fun. I also spent two and a half hours going through a large bin of shredded paper trying to piece together something which should never have been shredded. Successfully, I may add. I felt like I was in a really long, very boring version of CSI Glasgow.

Anyway, just a wee Scottish crime fiction update.

Some Sherlock stuff first: a review of the film A GAME OF SHADOWS, and another one, and Steven Moffat on the TV Sherlock (which I'm really enjoying).

Alex Gray, Caro Ramsay, G J Moffat and Craig Robertson at the Pitlochry Festival from January 27th.

A review of Ian Rankin's THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD, one of Kate Atkinson's STARTED EARLY, TOOK MY DOG, Josephine Tey's THE MAN IN THE QUEUE and reviews of Alexander McCall Smith's THE FORGOTTEN AFFAIRS OF YOUTH and THE RIGHT ATTITUDE TO RAIN.

Peter May on the Quercus Couch.

Peter Rozovsky at Detectives Beyond Borders gets into Allan Guthrie's shorts.

A really interesting interview with Louise Welsh about Scotland.

Hopefully, I will get back to normal posting some time soon...maybe by July...

The Bats Have Left The Bell Tower

Alexander McCall Smith on the etiquette of regifting. Of course, there is another alternative. I volunteer for a UK telephone helpline charity and if you got any unwanted gifts, or you have any books - signed or otherwise - that are looking for a good home, I'm helping to organise the annual conference in February, and those would make smashing raffle prizes, so please feel free to re-gift them my way and I will love you forever :o)

And now, we need to talk about Kevin... I haven't read any fiction since I started my Masters Degree in September but, coming back from my Mum and Dad's in the wilds of Mordor after Christmas, I fired up my Kindle and got stuck into K J Wignall (aka Lord Kevin of Wignall)'s BLOOD. It's not crime fiction (although there are crimes in it). It's Young Adult vampire fiction. No - definitely not my usual fare, but Kevin Wignall is one of my favourite writers (who deserves to be far better known than he is) so, since it's been far too long since he had some crime fiction out in English (come on publishers, am I really going to have to learn Finnish to read DARK FLAG? Sinun täytyy olla pilaa (that might be Finnish for 'you've got to be kidding'. Since I got it from an internet translation thingy, it is equally likely to mean 'I've just eaten your grandma's bullfrog')).

Anyway, back to vampires. My last (and probably only) enjoyable encounter with a vampire was with the brilliant Bela Lugosi's Dead by the equally brilliant Bauhaus. My least enjoyable encounter was with that self same Bela Lugosi's 1931 Dracula. I was 13 and babysitting for the Bysouths, who lived down the road. It was nearing midnight and I foolishly turned the TV over, only to discover Bela Lugosi saying "I bid you welcome." I was petrified. I had to phone my mum to get her to come and finish babysitting with me. She was not happy. When she arrived, I didn't
know whether to be more scared of her, or the creak of Dracula's coffin opening.

So...BLOOD. It's bloody brilliant. I'll do a proper review in January, but just in case you're looking for something a bit different, I thought I'd mention it as I absolutely loved it. It was totally captivating. Not your stereotypical vampire story - far from it, in fact. Great characters (I felt very sad for Will - the main character, who's been 16 for the last 750 years. There are also some wonderful wee snippets about how he got to where he is today, and the plot was deliciously twisty and turny. And it was as creepy as hell.

And now, on to Scottish crime fiction.

Our Michael Malone picks his top crime reads of 2011, including Tony Black's excellent TRUTH LIES BLEEDING. And the lovely Julie Morrigan interviews Tony (and look at that lovely snippet of news about a Blasted Heath publication).

Oooooh, doesn't the cover for Russel McLean's next book, FATHER CONFESSOR, look good?

Sherlock Holmes under investigation.

McDroll at I Meant To Read That loved Ray Banks' DEAD MONEY.

The Spectator reviews the Alexander McCall Smith writing machine.

James McAvoy talks about Irvine Welsh's FILTH.

Here's my latest Blasted Blog column at Blasted Heath.

This will probably be my last blog post until 2nd or 3rd of January as I will be partying Hogmanay away in the Lake District, so thanks everyone for being so supportive, and I hope that next year will be a brilliant year for all of you. And here's hoping that I get to hug at least some of you in 2012.

Can't Find My Mind

Soon, I will run out of Cramps titles. But not yet.

Writers talk about their bookshelves.

Lots of reviews today. Maxine at Petrona reviews Aline Templeton's LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER, The World According To Who? reviews Stuart MacBride's BROKEN SKIN, Clover Hill Book Reviews talks about Craig Robertson's RANDOM, Emily Mah on THE DOUBLE COMFORT SAFARI CLUB by Alexander McCall Smith, whose THE FORGOTTEN AFFAIRS OF YOUTH is reviewed in The Boston Globe. Sarah's Book Reviews enjoyed M C Beaton's AS THE PIG TURNS and the lovely Declan Burke reviews the equally lovely Aly Monroe's ICELIGHT in The Irish Times, and the Book Nook on Denise Mina's THE END OF THE WASP SEASON. Finally, a couple of reviews for Anthony Horowitz' THE HOUSE OF SILK.

A review...nay, poetry (and very clever)...of Allan Guthrie's BYE, BYE BABY from Conniephoebe.

An article on Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. And a review. Or there's the TV version with Benedict Cumberbatch which returns in the new year.

Denise Mina in A Year In Reading. And more on the graphic novelisation of The Girl Blah Blah Blah books (possibly the only Denise Mina penned stuff I will never read, since I didn't care for the first of the Larsson books and didn't read any more of them).

Seven Questions with Ian Rankin in which he reveals he would be a maverick cop. And here he talks about how he kills people off. And he's requesting a Robert Louis Stevenson Day. And if you're in Chichester on 20th January you can hear Ian reading from his unpublished first novel.

Win a copy of Peter May's THE BLACKHOUSE. I'd be entering with Amphetamine Westerly if I didn't already have a copy.

And you can win a copy of Helen Fitzgerald's THE DONOR over at Stephen Moyer's page. Ooooooooh, nice!

TRICK OF THE DARK by Val McDermid is one of Oline Cogdill's top reads of 2011. And Kate Atkinson's STARTED EARLY, TOOK MY DOG is in the Washington Post's best of list.

Queen of Pain

The Cramps again, of course.

I am now down at my parents to be spoiled over Christmas and it reminded me of a trip a few years ago. It's not just buses, you see. Public Transport and I have one of those love/hate relationships. I hate it, and it loves making my life a misery. Whenever I step on a train, or a plane, or a bus, or into a taxi, I take a deep breath and pray to everyone I can think of that I'm going to be sane at the end of the journey.

A couple of years ago I spent Christmas, as usual, in the soft and comfortable bosom of my family near Peterborough. After a wonderful time, we set off home. Now, I should state here that on Christmas Day I got the flu and I was feeling pretty ill. So I wasn't really looking forward to travelling anyway, but it was made all the worse by the fact that British Rail, in their infinite wisdom, had ripped up the railway tracks between York and Darlington, at the busiest time of year, so part of our train journey was done by bus.

Our seats were booked for the first part of the journey in Coach F. When the train arrived at Peterborough, we walked along past all the carriages - A, B, C, D, E, G, H. No F. So we walked back, just in case a tipsy carriage assembler had put coach F somewhere else. Still no Effing F. I spied a guard, a way up the platform, so, battling through the thronging hordes, and slamming myself into a pillar in the process (I didn't get transported to Platform 9 3/4 so I guess I won't be off to Hogwarts this term), I ascertained that Coach F was now Coach C through the miracles of Alphabet Soup so we managed to get a seat just before the train left.

At York, we all trooped out of the train, through a muddy bog that the station staff euphemistically referred to as 'car park' and onto buses. By this point we were already running 15 minutes late. Not to worry, said the guard on the train, the train would be waiting for us at Darlington. Absolutely. It definitely wouldn't be going anywhere until we arrived, we had his assurances on that.

So we all piled onto the bus. The bus was one of those posh ones, where you go down a little flight of stairs to the loo. Good, since by this time I was desperate to go to the loo. I walked up the bus and descended the stairs, only to hear the booming voice of the driver over the bus's tannoy "Could someone tell that woman that the toilet isn't working". About 17 people called down the stairs "Oy, you, the woman with the red face, the toilet isn't working."

We arrived at Darlington 40 minutes late to catch our connecting train (you remember, the one that on no account, absolutely definitely posilutely would not have left without us?), only to find that it had left without us, and the next one wasn't for another hour or so. Since we'd missed the train we had seats booked for, we didn't have seats booked for this one but there would be a whole load of people who would have had seats reserved. You could tell who they were - amongst the hordes of people on the platform they were the ones with really smug looks, the 4 bus loads of people who'd all arrived too late for our train just looked increasingly desperate, and were eyeing up those less fit than themselves, to determine their best chances of elbowing people out of the way to get a seat. By this time, I felt really, really awful, and promised the train guard (a different one from the lying sadist at York station) that I would vomit all over his shoes if he couldn't promise me a seat. He leaned over and whispered "I'll give you a tip since you're not well - Coach C has all the unbooked seats on it."

"My saviour. Thank you, thank you." I kissed his hands, sobbed into his British Rail jacket and promised him my uneaten British Rail sandwich (uneaten for very good reason I might add).

The train arrived. We sped down the platform past coaches H, G, F, E, D, B, A... D, B, A???? Had anyone reported this wholesale theft of railway carriages? Was someone, somewhere, setting up home in two cozy GNER carriages called F and C on a disused stretch of line somewhere between York and Darlington?

So, we grabbed seats in Coach D. I'm afraid I may have made rather a fool of myself as I clung to it sobbing "You'll never get me off this seat, never. Just leave me to die here. I've never harmed anyone." Anyway, it seemed to do the trick, no-one asked me to move for the whole journey. Not even the nice man in the white coat carrying the large butterfly net who hovered by my seat for the rest of the journey.

Now, enough of the nonsense. Scottish crime fiction news coming up.

Luca Veste over at Guilty Conscience talks about his top 5 books of 2011. Not only does he include Ray Banks' DEAD MONEY and Helen Fitzgerald's THE DONOR, but his number 1 is also one of my own favourite books of the year - the amazing BLACK FLOWERS by Steve Mosby. Luca obviously has excellent taste, I shall have to read the other two in his top 5 - Nick Quantrill's BROKEN DREAMS, and Neil White's COLD KILL.

More Ray, as The All Purpose Monkey muses over DEAD MONEY. And Ed Kurtz - another man with exceedingly good taste - picks it as one of his top books of 2011.

Doug Johnstone's busy year.

Conan Doyle's Moriarty on the big screen. And a review of A GAME OF SHADOWS.

Metaliterature reviews Philip Kerr's THE ONE FROM THE OTHER, Savidge Reads reviews M C Beaton's AGATHA RAISIN AND THE LOVE FROM HELL, and Crime Fiction Lover reviews Alex Gray's SLEEP LIKE THE DEAD.

Ian Rankin talks about which literary character he'd like to sleep with and other topics.

More on the Denise Mina comic book adaptation of the Stieg Larsson books. And more on the Unbound 26 Treasures project which Alexander McCall Smith is part of.

Irvine Welsh to write Britpop musical.

The Scotsman talks about their books of the year and note that Denise Mina and Ian Rankin show the "range of what the crime genre can do".

Confessions of a Psycho Cat

I thought this Cramps song was apt.

Since I have told a few Glasgow bus stories recently, and I'm feeling lazy, I thought I would dig out an old bus story to accompany today's post, so here it is.

It was a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon, so I decided to go into the city centre to buy a new pair of sandals. Yes, I know - the World Shoe Mountain currently resides in my spare bedroom, but, well, you never can tell when that rumoured Slingback Shortage is going to occur, so, abiding by that old Girl Guide motto 'Be Prepared', off I trotted. (For the purposes of this tale, it's actually irrelevant that I was thrown out of the Girl Guides due to my reliance on my own personal motto 'Be a Pain in The Arse'.)

So there I was, sitting on the bus, gazing out of the window and listening to my ipod (The Clash if anyone cares). About half way into town, I noticed someone sitting down next to me. When I say 'I noticed' what I actually mean was 'I couldn't help noticing because he sat on my knee and breathed stale beer fumes all over me'. Oh good, that most annoying of Bus Pests, the Glasgow drunk. He apologised profusely. I mostly couldn't hear what he was saying due to the music so I I just smiled and turned away. Then he spoke to me again and I just nodded and smiled and looked out the window. So he tapped me on the shoulder and spoke again. I pointedly took out the earpiece from the ear on the Bus Pest side and said "Sorry?"

"Oh! Are ye listening tae music hen?"

"Yes."

"Whit are ye listening tae?"

"Just a mixture." (My patented method of getting rid of The Bus Pest is be brief, be polite, don't give them too much information, they'll only ask more questions).

"Is it some of that meatrocker music?" (OK, so my patented method needs a little work). "Ah'm an Elvis man maself. Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra... Ah'm no much o' a singer mind." I breathed a sigh of relief - thankful for small mercies - at least I wasn't going to be treated to a rendition of My Way. "Although, I dae a pretty guid Ma Way, if I dae say so maself." I cast about feverishly for a hole of swallow-me-up size, but luckily he decided not to sing.

In one way, I would have loved to have seen him sing. He had apparently recently been to the false Teeth Shop but was obviously in a hurry on teeth shopping day. I knew this because a) he had the most perfect set of top teeth (apart from the fact that they moved independently from his gums) and b) he had 2 yellow bottom teeth (and I don't mean he had two yellow bottom teeth in an otherwise perfect set. I mean he had only 2 bottom teeth, and they were bright yellow). Watching him speak was like watching a badly dubbed Hungarian film. When he finished speaking, his top teeth were still in motion - moving away from his gums, out over his bottom lip and, on a couple of really scary occasions they were sucked back into his mouth and disappeared towards his throat. I was mentally practising the Heimlich manoeuvre.

Instead he held out his hand "Ah'm Big Chick. Pleased tae meet ya hen. And you are?...."

"Donna", I said quietly.

"Did yez hear that?" he announced to the rest of the bus "The lassie's called Donna. Whit time is it Donna?"

"Ten past one."

"Ten past wan? Ten past wan in the MORNIN'?"

"Errrr.....no, afternoon" What, did he think Glasgow had sneakily moved locations while he was down the pub and was now situated in the land of the midnight sun? At that point, a woman got on the bus and he said to her "Dae ye want ma seat pal?" She shook her head and moved on, despite the pleading look I gave her. Big Chick leaned over to me and whispered (and, when I say 'whispered' what I actually mean is 'boomed loudly') "She's just jealous 'cos ah'm sittin' with you instead o' her." Yes, I should imagine the whole bus was positively emerald green with jealousy at my good fortune by now. At least, those who weren't sniggering with glee at my predicament and increasingly red face.

"Where are ye fae' Donna?"

"Here. I live here."

Again, the announcement of this titillating piece of information to the rest of the bus "Did yez all hear? Donna lives in Glesgae."

Someone up the back of the bus laughed. My Bus Pest turned round, taking his jacket off "Hey youse up the back - haud yer wheesht. Dae yis want tae fight me?" Luckily no one took him up on this. I say luckily because he then turned back to me and said "Ah'm a bouncer." Oh. Really. Since 'Big' Chick was less than 4 feet 6 inches tall and more than 104 years old, I found this a tad difficult to believe.

"Ah'm gettin' aff at the Sandyford." I breathed a sigh of relief. The Sandyford was a pub a couple of stops further up. "Are ye coming in? Ah'll see you right." I didn't know whether he meant for a drink, a fight or a lumber*, but frankly, I didn't want to ask.

"Errr, no, thanks all the same but I have to go into town."

"Okay hen, well you come in and see me on Monday. I'll be in the Sandyford fae' aboot 10 in the morning. It's a great wee boozer. It opens at 8am, so if ye get up and ye feel like a wee drink, ye can just stoat along."

Great. Hold me back.

Big Chick heaved himself out of the seat and walked to the front of the bus, turning round at the front to give me a last beery wave "Bye Donna hen. Ah'll have a wee pie and a pint waitin' fer ye on Monday mornin'."

Mmmmmm, can't wait.

* Lumber - Glasgow slang for a hot date.

And now, your Scottish crime fiction news.

The Picky Girl reviews Catriona McPherson's DANDY GILVER AND THE PROPER TREATMENT OF BLOODSTAINS, Marion Public Library on Alexander McCall Smith's THE FORGOTTEN AFFAIRS OF YOUTH, which is also covered by Cleveland.com. A reviw of Stuart MacBride's A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE. Actually, I'm not sure if it's a review or an academic dissertation...

Holmes and Watson to star in Some Like It Hot remake? And the Ottowa Citizen talks about the Sherlock Holmes film.

Kate Atkinson's STARTED EARLY, TOOK MY DOG is one of the top crime fiction books for 2011 for the Seattle Times. And the Irish Independent includes Ian Rankin and Val McDermid on its list of stocking thrillers. Doug Johnstone has a rather excellent top 10 list which includes Ray Banks and Helen Fitzgerald, as well as my lovely friend Christa Faust. Nice list, Doug.

Ian Rankin will be at the Oxford Literary Festival in March 2012.

Denise Mina to adapt the Stieg Larsson series into graphic novel format.

And now, back to an essay on social justice and empowerment. Ta-ta, dear Reader.

The Crusher

Today's Cramps title is courtesy of Scotland's weather. Do the hammer lock you turkey necks...

I am supposed to be going through to Edinburgh tomorrow for the CWA Christmas Lunch but, since we are in the midst of Hurricane Bawbag, (which even has its own Wikipedia entry), I may not make it. I'm waiting for Scotland's next hurricane - which will presumably be called Hurricane Fannybaws. It was my day for being at the wonderful Glasgow Women's Library today but, as we watched a streetlamp swaying outside the window, debating whether Glasgow was going to close down, a Swedish bloke came in. "Can I sit in here and read for a while?" he said.

"Well, normally, the answer would be yes, but we might be shutting in a minute," I said.

He looked very puzzled. "Yes, the main library is shutting, too. Is it because of the weather?"

"Yes. We're not very good at weather. You may have gathered that." He went away still puzzled. Poor bloke.

My bus trip home was quite eventful. A guy nearly blew away at the bus stop. Only by hanging on for grim death to the side of the bus shelter did he manage to keep his feet on the ground. Me and the other woman standing in the bus stop looked on with interest and, obviously, complete unconcern. When we were getting on the bus the woman made me sit next to her. Then she leaned over and said "Can I ask your advice?" Oh dear. I said yes, quite nervously. "Can you tell me what's the best way of cleaning my kitchen counter tops?"I assumed that she had mistaken me for some sort of domestic goddess. Then a few minutes later she reached into one of her plastic shopping bags and pulled out a can of Tennents Special Brew. "Ah'm alright when the storm comes. Ah've got maself an aw day breakfast for two quid - black puddin' white puddin' an' some square sausage, and a wee bevvy for later, hen."

Anyway...

Kate Atkinson's STARTED EARLY, TOOK MY DOG makes Time Magazine's Top 10 of Everything lists. And Books and Reviews recommends WHEN WILL THERE BE GOOD NEWS? as a gift idea.

Novelists China Miéville and Denise Mina, and illustrators Mark Stafford and Alice Duke talk about Poe and Lovecraft.

A review of a book about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's letters, There Is No Easter Bunny reviews Craig Russell's LENNOX, and the Las Vegas Review Journal reviews Alexander McCall Smith's THE FORGOTTEN AFFAIRS OF YOUTH.

Helen Fitzgerald guest blogs at Weegie Wednesday.

Shona MacLean does some push-ups at Tony Black's Pulp Pusher.

Ian Rankin talks to Crime Time.

I love these Hilariously Badass Magazine Covers (courtesy of the lovely Bill Crider who always finds such brilliant stuff).

More Psychogeographic Psychos

Another little outtake from my psychogeographic tour across Glasgow. This is all the stuff which, sadly, can't make it into my essay but which were the best bits for me.

I should say at the outset that Glasgow's East End has a bit of a reputation. It has the lowest life expectancy in Europe, some of the worst gang violence, and it has the horrific Bellgrove Hotel (I once read a brilliant review of the place that said "First class place, close to all local amenities - Barlinnie (jail), Haddows (off licence) and Glasgow Royal Infirmary (nearest A&E department). There is also a lot that is good about the East End. It has a lot of character, some great people, and some excellent community projects. However, the fact remains that it is not a place that someone would normally send a tourist. Hence my surprise when coming back into the city centre on my psychogeographic journey, I had the following encounter.

The bus was fairly empty - a few people at the front and myself and one other person towards the back. Just opposite the aforementioned Bellgrove Hotel a guy got on. He was wearing a San Francisco 49ers shirt and shorts. My interest was piqued. You don't see that very often in Glasgow.

My interest was further piqued when he said to the driver in an American accent "How much is it to get my black ass out of here?" Incidentally, he was not black. He then had a conversation with the driver about not having slept for 48 hours. I pulled out my notebook. I had a feeling this was going to be gold dust for a postmodernist flâneur such as myself. He came swaggering towards the back of the bus, saying "How you doin'?" to various people as he passed them. They all ignored him. He didn't seem bothered.

As he passed me he stopped and said "Girl, green is your colour. Damn." (I was wearing a turquoise coat, he wasn't referring to the colour of my face." I smiled politely. When accosted by the Bus Nutter I try not to speak. It only eggs them on.

He sat down behind me and engaged the guy opposite in conversation with a classic opening gambit. "Women are crazy, huh?" The guy gave the perfect comeback (albeit one possibly fraught with danger) "Ah dinnae ken, pal. Ah'm gay."

It did not stop the American bloke. "How long until we're into the city?"

"Two minutes, pal."

"Two minutes? I bet you £2 it won't be two minutes...it'll be four."

The gay guy catches my eye. He taps his head in the ubiquitous sign for 'we've got a right bugs case here'. I grin and turn back to making my notes.

"So, is it right that Glasgow is the murder capital of the world?" This, in a very loud voice.

"Naw, pal, just Europe," says the gay guy.

The American bloke is silent for a few seconds, apparently taking this in. Then, right behind my left ear I hear "Oh-oh, she's taking notes." I have apparently been rumbled, but continue taking notes, just to pretend I'm not. "I knew this guy once - good looking guy, not as good looking as me though, ya know? So, we're out and I tell him to watch my style, take notes. I hope you're not taking notes?"

I turn round. "No, no, I'm just writing myself a reminder," I say, trying not to sound guilty.

"Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, I love your accent." This is one of the reasons I do not like to speak to the Bus Nutter. "You wanna go for a drink?"

"Um, no thank you."

Of course, it is too late. Me and the gay guy are now in the loop. "You sure? I'm just in from the US and I'm jetlagged, can't sleep, totally wired."

"No, you're OK, but thanks."

"I mean, I know you're a little older than me...what are you? 34? 35?"

"I'm 49."

"49? Man. You're looking hot, babe."

"Errrrr...thanks. I think. But I think that's the jetlag."

He nods philosophically and turns to the gay guy. "I suppose you're waiting for me to ask you out now?"

I ask him why, if he's just landed, he's ended up in the East End of Glasgow. Apparently, someone has told him that the best fish and chips are in the East End and so he had to have some. The gay guy and I tell him he needs to be careful about who he listens to. Eventually, having tried to get me to go for a drink one more time he gets off the bus with a cheery high five for us and a cheery wave for everyone else on the bus.

The gay guy and I watch him swagger off. "Do you think he'll be OK?" I say, worriedly. "Aye. I think it's Glasgow you need to worry about, rather than him."

Anyway, Scottish crime fiction news:

Ooooooh! Paul Johnston has a new book out, and you can read the first chapter of THE SILVER STAIN here.

Val McDermid and a host of other luminaries part of The Library Book.

Alexander McCall Smith's Yuletide festivities.

Guitars and Life reviews Charles Cumming's THE TRINITY SIX.

Sometimes, the brilliant Douglas Lindsay is a miserable ****. And sometimes, he gives us treats.

How do you fancy a nasty story for the 12 days of Winter? Then check out this from Stuart MacBride, with a new story every day.

Ian Rankin at the University of Sussex in January.

A wonderful post from Aly Monroe about Spain's Robbed Children.

Those lovely paper sculptures again.

And, finally, what Glasgow swapped for the new pandas at Edinburgh Zoo.

Eyeball In My Martini

Hello, Dear Reader. I hope you had a lovely weekend.

No live version of today's Cramps blog title, I'm afraid.

Russel McLean is looking for some love and, in return, he'll give you some too.

Kate Atkinson's STARTED EARLY, TOOK MY DOG makes the Kansas City Star's top books of 2011. The book also gets a mention in the NYT's Sunday paperback reviews. And both Denise Mina and Philip Kerr get a mention in the New York Times' notable crime fiction books of 2011. Philip Kerr also features in the St Louis Post Dispatch's 2011 list. Audiobooks of the year in the Independent include Ian Rankin's THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD and Anthony Horowitz' THE HOUSE OF SILK.

On the other side of the equation Philip Kerr, Alexander McCall Smith and Val McDermid recommend their favourites in The Scotsman. Philip Kerr recommends Ian Rankin's THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD and Val recommends the truly brilliant BLACK FLOWERS by Steve Mosby.

UK Chica reviews THE FALLS by Ian Rankin, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reviews THE COMPLAINTS and Mystery File reviews DEAD SOULS.

A hunt for Alexander McCall Smith's Mma Ramotswe in Sleuthing Botswana.

Aberdeen MP Anne Begg is a big fan of crime fiction, and Scottish authors feature heavily on her list.

Over at the Blasted Heath Blog, I get to talk about sex (Dad, that link is not for you. Have some Antiques Roadshow instead.)

Last Monday, I went to the Christopher Brookmyre event put on by Doug Johnstone. Here, finally (blame two essays), is my brief summary of the event. Luckily, most of it is not printable, but if you do get a chance to see Chris Brookmyre, do ask him about the roast chicken story, about the mad woman from Dundee Book Events and the crucifix story.

Brookmyre also told a story about doing an event in Clydebank Library. He noted that a library open after hours, with the lights on, is a bampot magnet. "It's the flame, and all the moths are wearing Burbery". A bloke in a Burbery cap came in and hovered for a while before telling Brookmyre that his dad "loves the Glasgow crime books." He told Brookmyre that he had never actually heard of him, but that he would get his dad a book. "Now, what was it you done?" It became clear that the guy thought that Brookmyre was a criminal. Brookmyre was tempted to say "Ah murdered hunnerds of guys" but, in the end, settled for telling him it was fiction. "What, you're making it up?" said the guy.

Brookmyre said that he started writing at the age of 6, and most of his early stuff was a straight rip-off of what he was reading (he spent two months writing nothing but stories about sharks eating people after seeing Jaws). He had a great teacher at school and, when he wrote two versions of the same story in class (one cleaned up and one with swearing and necrophilia) she told him it was the best thing he had ever written. She supported him in writing it and gave it to the headmaster. Unfortunately, she did not choose her words carefully enough when she said to the headmaster "I think you really ought to see this."

Brookmyre wrote three books before his fourth was accepted. He said that for some reason publishers are not very tolerant of "books that are shite."

He worked for a newspaper in Edinburgh, doing football reports at a time when the results were brought to the paper by carrier pigeon (Hibs and Hearts both had pigeon coops on their roof. Oh, yes, there's another story I can't tell about one of the misprints...

He talked about crime writers he admired - including Val McDermid and Mark Billingham (and, incidentally, said that he thought Mark had done well to get out of the playground titles (Scaredy Cat and Sleepy Head) before he was reduced to Specky Four Eyes and Smelly Bum). This then led to him to worrying about Sue Grafton who must have thought that A Is For Alibi was a good idea until she got to K is For Kicking The Arse Out Of It. He wondered how she feels as she gets close to having to write a mystery where an important plot point has to revolve around a xylophone).

The follow up to WHERE THE BODIES ARE BURIED will be called WHEN THE DEVIL DRIVES and will be out next summer. Winning the Wodehouse prize was the least comfortable Brookmyre has ever felt professionally as he had to do a photo shoot with a very rare breed of pig that had its own escort. The pig wouldn't come out of its trailer (Hollywood style huff) and sent its piglets instead. Carrying a large jeroboam of champagne and surrounded by tiny pigs, Brookmyre said he looked like a hobbit. He's also writing a sci-fi/computer gaming novel called BEDLAM which allows him to make up a complete universe.

At the end, he read out a brilliant 'Irvine Welsh does Jane Austen story'. I wish you could have heard it, Dear Reader.

Psychotic Reaction

Your Cramps goodness for today.

This week, I have been busy at Uni doing an interesting task: a dérive otherwise known as a psychogeographic stroll. I would describe myself as a flâneuse. However, while the masculine version - flâneur - means one who loafs and strolls, the feminine version means a prostitute, so maybe I'd better not. Our brief was to visit an area of Glasgow, or a specific location (shopping centre, train station etc) and just wander for a couple of hours taking notice of who uses the space (and, more importantly, who doesn't), what it says (or doesn't) about identity, hegemony, post-modernism, transgression, ideologies,signs and semiology. I decided to do mine all along the number 40 bus route in Glasgow. Not only did this mean that I could sit down the whole way, but it also meant that I was travelling from West to East across Glasgow taking in loads of different areas. The comedian Kevin Bridges has things to say about this bus route.

It was a fascinating experiment. Funniest moment was when I got off the bus at the terminus in Easterhouse (I use the term 'terminus' very loosely - it's a patch of waste ground). I tried to upload a wee video but my technical skills failed me, so here are a couple of photos instead. I had been the last person on the bus for quite a few stops and, when I came down the stairs the driver looked really shocked.

"When do you go back?" I said.

He looked puzzled. "Where do you want to go, hen?"

"Back the same way I came."

"But where are you going?"

"Back to where I started."

"Are you wanting to go into town?"

"Yes."

He looked relieved. At last, something he could work with. "There's a number 41 leaving in a couple of minutes."

"Nope, it has to be a 40."

Silence for a moment. Then the cautious question: "What are you doing, hen?"

I thought about this.I didn't want to sound all intellectual and shit (sorry, Dad) so I decided not to go for the French. "It's for my university course. We have to do some psychogeography."

His face cleared. "Ah, well, there's plenty of psychos out this way, hen." I do believe he considered me to be one of them.

Anyway, on to Scottish crime fiction.

Two new books out from the wonderful Blasted Heath this week. Both of them I've read, both are wonderful. First of all, Douglas Lindsay's THE BARBER SURGEON'S HAIRSHIRT is a piece of genius madness. Here's my review of it. Next is Damien Seaman's THE KILLING OF EMMA GROSS. It's a dark and dirty police procedural set in Dusseldorf (sorry, can't find an umlaut) during 1929. The book takes as its background the crimes of notorious serial killer Peter Kurten (sorry, still can't find an umlaut) and the unsolved murder of a prostitute, and then spins out from there. It's full of heart and soul and a deep underlying sadness. Detective Thomas Klein is an excellent protagonist and Damien makes you really care about all the characters.

Talking of Douglas Lindsay, conniephoebe reviews THE END OF DAYS, Eurocrime reviews Karen Campbell's SHADOWPLAY, and a review of Philip Kerr's PRAGUE FATALE in The Independent.

The Star Telegram reviews Ian Rankin's THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD, and NPR reviews THE COMPLAINTS. You can hear Ian talking about THE IMPOSSIBLE DEAD on Australia's ABC radio's Book Show. And he answers questions posed by The Open University.

More on Alexander McCall Smith and broken society.

Have a lovely weekend, Dear Reader.