Christmas 2024 - Too Hot to Handel: The Gospel Messiah at the Royal Albert Hall - Open Memoir...

 

2024

2010

Hallelujah!

What a Wonderful Way to Celebrate the Birth of Jesus! The Reason for the Season! 

I was fortunate to have taped the relatively new version of the Messiah which was being performed at the Royal Albert Hall this year. Classical Music has been an ongoing part of my world since early years when I was spending time with my mother's sister and her husband, as my mother worked, seemingly, so many jobs I couldn't keep count... For a child that meant 24-7. I was fortunate to listen to the Classical greats from that time and have continued to love them...

But I was thrilled to hear a new version played this year! Too Hot to Handel: The Gospel Messiah! Now don't get excited if you've been listening to this Handel composition since your early years and are quite happy with it. No problem, Handel's Messiah is still available! I have found that, though, as the music world has expanded and moved into different genres, I've so enjoyed with those new presentations by living participants... I've included an original promo from 2010 which shares how the conductor came to continue the basic composition, while being reinvented for today's world--that is, the music of recent centuries!

For me, it brought a new glory for our Lord--one that recognizes, in my mind, what God expects from us. That we would continue to grow, to learn and to share the Love of God in all ways and for all people!

Unfortunately, the full 2024 is not yet available on YouTube, but I found many videos which presented what is happening in the Gospel genre! Some all vocal, others with parts that have been given a new beat, such as jazz! And you may be able to find it on your local public television television station.

I especially enjoyed the trumpet, drums and sax as they provided a new experience for us to sway or tap our foot, knowing that from ages past, we have always "danced to the Lord..."

In the Bible, Psalms 149:3 says, “Let them praise his name with dancing…Praise him with tambourine and dance…” In 2 Samuel 6:14–22, David dances before the Lord with all his might, providing us with a wonderful example of what it truly means to surrender to God in worship.

 I've always loved to sing in a choir and cannot remember when I was not singing songs telling of God's Truth and His Love for all. I've only had one opportunity, however, to be involved in a major event such as The Messiah. That time was the presentation of  Mendelssohn's Elijah.

It was sponsored as a Community Choir by West Virginia University. I was thrilled to, having been required to audition, be accepted for the choir...  I still have my nearly 200-page book which was marked up for  lines I would be singing, along with guidelines from the conductor. It was one of the great joys of my life. As you can see it takes over 2 hours to present... It was quite a different experience for me. I tend to sing solos as I feel the song comes to me. And normal hymns are pretty standard tempo and is sung along with the pianist as she plays it. This concert with full orchestra as well as a choir, as well as a conductor required much more attention to the words and conductor. Wow!

My one and only greater experience was singing at the Billy Graham crusades, of hundreds of participants, under the direction of George Beverly Shea, whose voice gave me chills... I can still hear in my mind his solo of How Great Thou Art, with the choir coming in on the chorus. This video was dated 1957 and this seems to be around the time that I participated...  I remember I was one of the sopranos that could close out the song on a high note that many could not reach... Wonderful times!

I'm closing out with a few of my favorites and wishing you a wonderful time to remember His Birthday is here once again!

Selections are by my favorites such as Andre Bocelli, here with His Son.  Jesus is Indeed the Reason for the Season...

Closing with several favorite Christmas songs... by The Piano Guys and Andre Bocelli and more(my favorite singers and piano presenters).

God Bless Us All

for

Jesus IS the Reason for the Season!

Emma Jameson Presents Blue Christmas: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Lord and Lady Hetheridge Mystery Series Book 6) Not Your Usual Christmas Story!

 The foot protruded from under the duvet, his toenails hoary and jagged, his toes greenish-white. Wasn’t that the universal fear? That if one’s foot slips from beneath the covers, something terrible is waiting to take hold of it?

“About our victim,” Tony began. “I’ve searched my memory, but the name Barnaby Galen doesn’t ring any bells.” “Let’s return to our old friend, Officer Google.” Swiping at his mobile, Paul read off the screen, “‘Barnaby Galen, a diversified multimillionaire, made the bulk of his fortune in the payday loan industry. Mr. Galen, 72, has never married. He has no children. He resides in Knightsbridge, London, in a house once owned by Victorian train designer and steam engineer, John Covetly Cooper. In the early 2000s, Mr. Galen’s payday loan company, Ye Olde Money Man, was targeted by the pressure group Humanity First. This group alleged that the company had flagrantly predatory lending practices, such as £35 interest per month for every £100 borrowed….’” Kate made a disgusted sound. “Lord. That ought to be illegal. Isn’t it?” “These days, yes,” Tony agreed. “When I was a young man, that sort of naked usury wasn’t permitted, either. You know how the cycle goes. The lending industry is regulated, over-regulated, set free to do absolutely anything for a period, and reined in again.” “He picked the right time to profit, I guess. Is there anything else?” Kate asked Paul. “Not really. His name has appeared on the Forbes list at least once, and if you search for the company name, Ye Olde Money Man, it links back to some investigatory journalism and op-eds about income inequality. That’s as much as a quick look with Officer Google can reveal. Gulls will dig up plenty more in the next few days, I promise.” “Multimillionaire,” Tony repeated. “He must’ve lived like a hermit. Not on the board of any charities, never seen at gallery openings or political fetes.” “Should I know who John Covetly Cooper is?” Kate asked. She always felt a bit thick when the conversation turned to historical personages she’d never heard of. Tony shrugged. Paul said, “I don’t think he was famous, apart from railway enthusiasts, maybe. But doesn’t he sound like a character in a steampunk TV show? Lieutenant Major J.C. Cooper at your service, milady,” he said, slipping into his Colonel Blimp voice. “‘I can steer this airship and fight duels with my rapier. But alas, my heart is only a cold clockwork mechanism, powered by aether.’” 

“Should I call a doctor? Have you taken leave of your senses?” Giana asked, placing Paul’s lager before him. “No, no, just fine,” he said, tasting his drink. He didn’t even try to catch Giana’s eye as she set down Kate and Tony’s pints, then retreated. It was true; the earlier flirtation had been an act. “I got to see the kitchen lot,” Kate volunteered, after they’d all had a moment to savor the round. “There was no time for me to talk to any of them, and honestly, they might not have been in a fit state. They were giving poor Kincaid a right royal time. Gulls said the neighbors are quite friendly with one another along Holywell Street. But they weren’t fond of Mr. Galen.” “Certainly not,” Paul said. “Remember when one of you asked if the old man was a sort of neighborhood project? The sad, lost little pensioner who everyone looks in on? Well, it was just the opposite. They watched out for Galen, the way you watch out for a rabid dog. None of them even pretended to be surprised that someone would murder him.” “What did he do to them?” Kate asked. “I didn’t get the comprehensive list. I imagine Kincaid did, though. But mostly it came down to rudeness,” Paul said. “Shouting when a dog was walked past his front garden. Calling the police on harmless parties. Dumping slop-pots in other people’s yards.” “Oi,” Kate muttered. “Quite the charmer.” “But were they surprised by the method?” Tony asked. “Did any of the neighbors say anything interesting on that score?” Paul considered the question. “They did… only because they didn’t, if you know what I mean. It’s hard to be certain. But when I arrived on the scene and saw Granny, I shrieked. And so did you,” he told Kate. “Only a little.” “Even Tony got pale. He said something like, ‘It’s not real,’” Paul said, imitating Tony as if he, too, were Colonel Blimp. “And poor Trevor, the M.E. who looks like Ronan Farrow⁠—” “Oh, you’re right, he does look like Ronan Farrow,” Kate cried. “I don’t sound like Colonel Blimp,” Tony said. “Nor do I know who Ronan Farrow is. But do you mean to say, the neighbors were sort of, well, blasé about a human skeleton that rode up from under the bed on miniature train tracks?” Kate burst out laughing. “It was Lieutenant Major J.C. Cooper’s ghost. He did it! Death by a steampunk skeleton.” “Well, that’s it. You’ve cracked it. Time for me to pack it in,” Paul said with mock despair. “And I thought Tony was onto something with the kitchen lot. They all thoroughly despised Galen. They didn’t need psychiatric triage after taking in a completely bizarre death scene. Maybe because they were all in on it? Meaning we’d finally achieved….” He paused, taking a breath. “A Murder on the Orient Express crime,” Kate, Tony, and Paul said in unison. They laughed again, and finished their pints. “Quattro Formaggi,” Giana announced, placing a large pie in the center of the table. The moment Kate laid eyes on it, she realized how very hungry she actually was. She and Tony had grabbed a quick lunch before boarding the train to London, but that had been hours ago. Worries over the scale or her personal numerical value, as determined by the size of her knickers, went up in smoke. She ate with gusto. “This is amazing. There’s no decent pizza in Shawbridge, just the frozen stuff Henry and Ritchie like,” Kate said. “I didn’t know how much I missed the real thing until I took a bite.” “I didn’t realize how much I missed the real thing until I set foot inside it,” Tony said. “To London,” Paul said, lifting his glass. “To London,” Kate said. “To London,” Tony said, with feeling. Kate smiled at him, and he patted her thigh under the table. “So, what did you discover when you made that last circuit around the house?” Kate asked, getting back to her pizza. “No security system with motion detectors, I assume?” “From what the kitchen lot said, Galen was far too frugal for anything like that,” Paul replied. “Even the CCTV cameras mounted beside the front and back doors were fakes,” Tony said. “Bad enough when they film night and day, but aren’t properly monitored. These are obvious dummies. The flimsy, bargain-bin kind.” “Were any of the doors forced?” Kate asked. “No,” Tony said. “The windows were in good shape, too. I think it’s likely someone gained easy access to the house, either with Galen’s permission or with a duplicate key.” On that thought, they suspended the conversation until they’d reduced the pizza to a smattering of crumbs on a scarred pie plate. Then came another round of pints and a deeper discussion of what Kate really wanted to focus on: Granny. “I want you to have a look at my pictures,” Kate said, bringing up the images on her iPhone. “I crawled around on that disgusting carpet to get them, so you could study Mr. FX’s handiwork.” “Mr. what?” Tony looked blank. “F.” Kate drew the letter in the air. “X. As in the abbreviation for special effects. You know. The cinema.” “Mr. FX. A fitting name,” Paul said, leaning back in his chair the way Tony often did when contemplating a case. Paul, however, kept one hand on the table, lest he get wrapped up in his thoughts and overbalance. “You know, I watched a documentary about haunted attractions not long ago. The American kind, with actors in costumes, where they really try to terrify the patrons. Did you know haunted houses were invented in England?” Tony looked up from his pint to find Paul awaiting an answer. “Why are you staring at me?” “Oh, I thought you might have attended the opening. The Orton and Spooner Ghost House was wildly popular in 1915.” Tony said nothing. He also forgot nothing, as Paul very well knew. Kate giggled at the face-off. “I suppose it was here in London?” “No,” Paul said. “It was in Liphook. Still is, I reckon. As coincidence would have it—assuming there is such a thing as coincidences in this world—the Orton and Spooner Ghost House was a marvel of steam power. Possibly right up the real John Covetly Cooper’s alley, unless he was the dull sort who hates flights of fancy,” Paul added. “The floors rocked. The patrons felt ghosts brushing by them. Blasts of steam, actually. The whole place vibrated. And since they walked through it in total darkness, it was just scary enough to be a hit with the general public.” “Sounds like you absolutely devoured this documentary,” Kate said. “It was fun. Really all I remember are two things—the Orton and Spooner Ghost House, and the term, ‘startle scare.’ That’s what Granny looks like to me,” Paul said. “When you go through haunted houses, there are usually dark corridors where something brushes against you, like the steam blasts in the Orton House. Then there are tableaus, where you see a terrible scene, vampires feasting or so forth. But what makes a haunted house great are startle scares coming along at deliberate intervals. They usually drop down or spring up.” “I think Granny—the skeleton component, I mean—folded flat while under the bed,” Kate said, passing her mobile to Tony and Paul so they could study her image of the under-bed tracks. “Then once she was out, the platform slid backwards, tipping her body upright.” “Diabolical,” Tony murmured. “Anyone who could get that sort of access to the man’s bedroom could have hidden in one of that house’s disused rooms, then come out and strangled him in his sleep. Not to mention the fact Galen kept his essential medications out in plain sight. The killer could’ve switched the pills and had him dead in a matter of days. Plus, that sort of demise would very likely be written off as natural in a man Galen’s age.” For what felt like a long time, no one spoke. Then Kate said, “I suppose we’re dealing with a true psychopath. Another true psychopath.” “I would’ve preferred the Orient Express scenario, if I’m being honest,” Tony said. Paul began to hum under his breath. The tune was “Jingle Bells.” “That’s your answer? ‘Jingle Bells?’” Kate kicked him under the table. “Ow! Violence in the workplace! You’ll end up in an MPS reeducation camp, and you’ll deserve it,” Paul said. “I’m caroling because this case is Scrooge all over again.” Tony set down his near-empty pint with a bump. “You’re right.” Kate didn’t see it. “You mean, with Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit and whatnot?” “Yes. Think about it,” Paul said eagerly. “Galen’s a rich old man. He has no family. He has no friends. He got wealthy lending money but he doesn’t enjoy his riches. He lives alone in a wreck of a mansion. One night a terrible specter visits him in his bed. Except in this case, he doesn’t learn a valuable lesson. He drops dead.” “We don’t know that Galen had no friends. Gulls said his P.A. was gutted over the murder. We also don’t know that Galen didn’t enjoy his money,” Kate said reasonably. “He might have hired a cleaner,” Tony said. “If I’ve learned one thing from my service on the Toff Squad,” Paul said, blazing on as if neither of them had spoken, “it’s this. Rich people never go it alone. Not even if they’re full-on paranoids and misanthropes. Galen might have been too much of a skinflint to pay for things like cleaners. And plumbers. And authentic CCTV cameras. But I promise you, he had one dogsbody. One miserable, downtrodden, afraid-of-his-own-shadow employee. Enter the P.A.” “His Bob Cratchit,” Tony said. “You’re probably right.” “I am,” Paul said breezily, signaling Giana for the check. “Now we just need to find out who in Galen’s life fancied playing the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come, and we’ll have the case wrapped in time for Christmas lunch.”

~~~

I'm not convinced that this book should be related to Christmas even if the time is near, lol--rather, Halloween... Sure Scrooge was a miser and quite unpleasant, but even he didn't get murdered or live in a cesspool of a home that defied a quick description! Think no working plumbing, no attempts to make a home out of a house, and certainly not worth his neighbors involvement.

On the other hand, there are wonderful romantic scenes by two of the main characters--Lord and Lady Hetheridge. Lady Hetheridge is a cop and the Lord is a consultant as times. Key is that Kate has been on leave due to what happened to her during an investigation... So her husband had done everything to help her get her mojo back to normal. One of the reasons was that he missed being in London, working...

And Paul, Kate's partner on the job, had been keeping a secret even from his mother, who, admittedly was very overbearing. But now Kate was being hounded by his mother, trying to get his new address! Loved this sub-plot with a little touch of Grinch... or Scrooge! I mean seriously, when you learn about how he lived, you'll start thinking why he might have been murdered... And realize during the investigation that there could be hundreds who wanted...him...gone!

But just like the Christmas Carol, there was one man who had worked for this multimillionaire and he also had a son who was often in his house... But all three of the officers on the case decided that they couldn't be involved in the murder, even if there were many clues and reasons that they "could" have wanted to do it... they went deeper and deeper into the lives of neighbors and those with whom Barnaby Galen had been involved, including some criminal acts through the years.

Now here's the things that put a delay in tracking the killer... it involved a part of a real skeleton, a fake plastic skeleton hand, bones from multiple people, a female head with a plastic cap glued to it and an extremely hard job of trying to find clues in a sewage-based floor, sheets that were so dirty they were gray, curtains that fell apart when touched... you get the idea...

Reminds me of another Christmas song who probably became a creature developed in this man's house with black mold as its base...

So why was he murdered? You know, I just had to change the "flavor"
of the play list to match what was happening...

Now before we get too far ahead of the book, you should know that a man who was worse than the Grinch, or Scrooge was indeed murdered and discovered in his bed. Seems he was scared to death... Let's face it, this guy was neither naughty nor nice. He was dead. And there was nobody grieving, nor were there any significant clues...

This is my first book by Emma Jameson. Her creativity in the murder scene is worth your reading... Plus, watching Kate get back into her role as a police officer was both informative and tragic, recognizing that it was a similar tragic incident that led her to, at one point in this book, losing track of everything around her. I've had this happen to me just one time and it was a devastating event, even though it wasn't caused by the activity in which I was involved. Let me just say, that I applaud the author for creating a storyline that is both amazing, as well as, quite effectively done! Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

Angie Fox Created an Entire Series with a Skunk as a Main Character! Check Out The Ghost of Christmas Past! Great last-minute Christmas Gift...

 

The hardest part about stringing Christmas lights on the marble mantel over my fireplace was getting them to stay where I wanted them. “Halt!” I ordered as the twinkling red and white candy cane lights slid off the far side of the mantel. Perhaps I’d overdone it earlier with the marble polish. I took a deep breath—not too deep, since I didn’t want to test the seams of my party dress—bent down, grabbed the strand, and straightened back up, all without a single wobble. Well, praise be and hallelujah. I was getting the hang of balancing in these heels, at least. I’d set aside a small budget for holiday decorations this year. It wasn’t much—I was still very cautious about spending any of my hard-earned savings after nearly losing the house. But when I’d happened upon a little pop-up holiday store downtown called A Light To Remember, I couldn’t resist. Not only had I found the mantel lights, but also the perfect multicolored net lights for the hydrangea bushes out front. They spot-on matched the plastic balls embedded in the pretty little wreath my mother had sent when she visited Santa Claus, Indiana. The icicle lights went up on the shed, where my ghost friend Frankie had insisted he needed “mood lighting” for his upcoming date with his ghostly girlfriend, Molly. I resisted any and all jokes about his icy touch, his cold gangster heart, or the fact that as the dominant ghost of the shed, he could have conjured up a set of ghostly lights himself. After all, it was Christmas. And I could certainly spare some holiday cheer. This string of lights brought that spirit of the holidays to my mantel. Or they would, as soon as I could get them to drape a little without pulling the whole shebang over the edge. I pushed and bunched and arranged the twinkling candy canes a few more times before I remembered the roll of double-sided tape in my kitchen junk drawer. 

I turned to go get it, and my ankle snagged against something warm and fluffy. “Whoops!” I managed three staggered steps and some ungraceful pinwheeling of my arms before I found my balance. “Lucille Desiree Long,” I chided as my pet skunk snuffled around my ankles, happily oblivious to the disaster she’d almost caused. “You should know better than to sneak up on me like that.” Especially when I was wearing heels two inches taller than any woman should and a dress not designed for gymnastics. My sister, Melody, had lent me the whole kit and caboodle and assured me it was the latest thing. The sleek, sequined dress hugged my curves all the way down to my knees and sparkled like sunrise over a lake. I’d flat-ironed the ever-present wave out of my hair and pinned it back in a high, elegant bun. My makeup was nice but subtle—eyeliner and mascara, a touch of blush and a bright pink shade of lip gloss that I saved for special occasions. “Christmas with the Wydells,” Melody had said with a whistle when I told her why I needed the dress. “I don’t envy you.” “It’s going to go fine,” I’d assured her, and I think we both hoped I wasn’t lying through my teeth. I sighed and swept an errant hair off my face. I was a Southern girl. Practical. Just because the town matriarch, Virginia Wydell, had tried to ruin me and take my ancestral home didn’t mean I couldn’t spend Christmas with her. 

I fought the urge to chew at my freshly glossed lips. That sounded bad, even in my head. Still, I had to find a way to get along with Virginia. I was currently dating one of her sons. “We’ll work it out. We’ve been making progress,” I reminded my little skunk—and myself—as I reached down to stroke Lucy’s stubby ears, one of which had turned inside out. After all, I had been invited to this year’s Christmas. That hadn’t happened in a while. I straightened up and headed into the kitchen to look for the tape. Being invited to the Wydell family Christmas party was a big step forward in my relationship with the family. Virginia and I had both been in denial lately about how serious I was becoming about Ellis Wydell. He was the middle of Virginia’s three sons, a deputy sheriff for the town of Sugarland, Tennessee, and the most wonderful man I’d ever met. The problem was, he wasn’t the first Wydell boy I’d dated. Years ago I’d been engaged to Ellis’s younger brother, Beau. I’d been all set to say, “I do,” until Beau hit on my sister the night before the wedding. Needless to say, I’d called it off—but Virginia still stuck me with the bill and ruined my reputation in town. 

“But it didn’t ruin you and me, did it?” I cooed at Lucy while I opened the junk drawer. “No, baby girl, it did not.” I’d reassembled the scattered pieces of my life, found work again—very challenging work, but ghost hunting was finally paying the bills—and now I was going to celebrate Christmas with Ellis at his cousin Montgomery’s house. Montgomery was his dad’s cousin, and one of the stalwart leaders of the family. The last time I’d been to his Christmas party, I was Beau’s fiancée. Don’t think about that. Montgomery Wydell knew how to throw one heck of a celebration. There would be eggnog and roasted chestnuts and— 

~~~

Angie Fox is one of my favorite cozy mystery writers. Having a pet skunk helped that decision, hopefully Lucille no longer has the ability to send out fumes--even in love! If you haven't read her books, put her name in the search column in my right column and you'll have 10 others to enjoy!

Angie does wind up getting herself into trouble whenever and wherever she is... But moving from one brother to another in a family where their mother is one of the "elite" in town is bound to bring pain for the woman who is one of Virginia's true nemesis and shows her disdain for Verity who is now in a close relationship with one of Virginia's sons. And she does everything she can think of to make it hard on this couple. I have to admit that I wouldn't be as patient with Virginia. But part of the problem is that Verify is not of the rich and famous and thus takes every gesture of kindness from Virginia, only to discover it wasn't kind... Take for instance when Verify was invited to this year's Christmas party open house. She sent a gift basket of pears with a note that this will be an appropriate gift for those attending. 

Dearest Verity, I’m sure you would like to make a good impression tonight, so in the spirit of Christmas I have taken care of your hostess gift for the party. Bring this lovely arrangement and it will at least appear as if you belong. Best, Virginia Wydell.

Only to discover later that the giant basket of pears was totally inappropriate...Worse, Virginia had sent them to Verity COD! And Verity was hunting all over her house for change to cover the $100+ cost! Don't you just love to be able to "hate" some of the characters you read about! Sorta helps get over a rude grocery cashier as you leave the neighborhood store, right?! But then, I have to admit that if my son was dating a woman who was a ghost hunter, I think I'd probably cringe or laugh out loud when introducing her. Especially when there was more than one new ghost to meet...

Oh yes, I don't want to forget to point out that the Ghost in this story is not the ghost that lives in Verity's home... On the other hand, readers do get to learn about dominant ghosts versus... I admit that comes a little later in the book, but discovering that all the ghosts were part of the Wydell family and extended family... was a surprise even for Verity's ghost, Frankie...

So how did this situation begin? Well, Donna who was a good ghost was part of a group that made sure those who were lost or hurt in the area are saved. Donna knew that Verity could see ghosts--yes! not just her own ghost--and asked for her help in case further help was needed. She got them to the location of where a sighting had occurred, which was in an old mill building. Which happened to be on the Wydell property and many of the family had chosen to stay there. You know what's coming, right? Not everyone who dies knows what to do at that point, so they just stay where they were most comfortable.

So Frankie and Verity headed for the Old Mill and upon arriving, could actually hear "breathing." Heavy loud breathing! Oh, do you know who naturally hibernates during the cold winter? Bears! Right. This was a mama bear and her children who had been asleep until the small ones woke up! At the same time, while trying to figure out how to get the mother bear awake without attacking Verity, she was investigating the building to see what to do. What she found was that part of the old mill was about to break--the rope was unraveling--and the entire section of the equipment would fall on the bears! Yikes!

About that time, Phineas Wydell arrived on scene with Frankie and that caused a bit of confusion, of course! Phineas was quite willing to work with them to save the bears, but, I hope you know by now, that ghosts have a hard time moving things once they are dead... And all the other ghosts who were celebrating Christmas was Phineas' vision of the last Christmas in 1930 when his wife was still alive. Sadly, it seemed, he closed out the past so that he could help save the living... But how?!

Finally, even though she did not want to do it, Verity realized that she'd need to get to the Wydell home and get help to save the bears since the rope was snapping faster and faster... But Phineas had other ideas and slammed the door, locking it. Verify was upset, obviously, but Phineas believed that she had been brought that night for a reason. And he needed her to help him or the bears would be lost!

And then Phineas said, "There's another ghost here to see you. A stronger one than I am..."

The Ghost of the Future...

Merry Christmas!

Gabby!

On the Rocks by Kerry J. Donovan - Book 2 in the Ryan Kaine Series - A Mountain-Top Adventure!

 

Ryan Kaine Audiobook Excerpts by Kerry J. Donovan — on YouTube

Thursday 17th September — Gregor Abercrombie Kinross Farm MRC, The Cairngorms, Aberdeenshire, Scotland

Gregor ended the call with McGill, trying to quell the fury bubbling up from his guts. How dare Cody and his team point their weapons at his people? He was angry enough to cuss, but would never resort to such behaviour. The pastor would never condone swearing, and the pastor was right. Swearing was the last refuge of the ill-educated and the feeble-minded. Until receiving McGill’s call, Gregor had been feeling rather pleased with the way things had been going, but the call had changed everything. He tried to see it from the police point of view. After all, they were chasing a man charged with heinous crimes. But no, hang on, that wasn’t right. Ryan Kaine hadn’t been charged with anything—hadn’t even been arrested. Officially, the police had only identified him as a so-called person of interest. They wanted Kaine to “help them with their enquiries” into the crash of Flight BE1555. It was the media who’d added the “wanted terrorist” label, no doubt to spice up their copy. Gregor was starting to smell conspiracy and, with a bunch of uniformed police running around his mountain, waving their guns in the air, he sensed disaster around the corner. Before their arrival at Craed’s Fist, he’d assumed that Cody’s men didn’t know their way around the place. At one point, Gregor had allowed himself to wallow in the imagined, but delicious irony, of receiving a call for help from the lost posse. But they clearly had their own satnav system so that particular situation would probably not arise. Gregor nodded to Gillian. 

“Call Kaine for me, lass. He needs to know what’s going on.” She hit a button and Gregor’s headphones clicked to a different channel. “ST9, this is Gregor Abercrombie. Are you receiving me? Over,” he called, keeping his voice below the level of the room’s background hum. Kaine answered instantly. “I hear you, strength five, Base. Do you have an ETA for the rescue team? Over.” “ST3 should be with you within the next half hour or so. How’s the lad? Over.” “In pain, but conscious and looking forward to seeing his parents. Over.” “That’s excellent news, ST9. I’ll pass that message along, but if he’s out of danger, you need to get away from there. Over.” “Why? Over.” “The armed police unit are closing in on your position. I think they’re following ST3, and I don’t think they’re expecting you to surrender, if you take my meaning. Over.” “I do, but I’m not leaving the lad. He’s been alone for three days, and he needs my company. I’ll wait for ST3 and offer whatever help I can. Over.” 

The main doors flew open and the oily-smooth Superintendent Ingram-Howe strode into the room, with a face like thunder on the mountain. Two of his lackeys—a sergeant and a particularly beefy uniformed constable—stood on either flank, but slightly behind the insufferable man. Uh-oh, what’s this now? “ST9, standby for an update. Base, out.” Gregor gave Craig the pre-determined signal to blank out all the screens and turned to face the senior police officer. “Mr Abercrombie, a word, if you please!” Ingram-Howe barked, his anger barely under control. Take one step closer, and you’ll see anger, you damnable pipsqueak. Gregor held up an index finger. “One moment while I sort out this mess.” Slowing his breathing in a deliberate attempt to cool the fire raging through his belly, Gregor turned his back on the sputtering policeman and strolled slowly to the comms enclave. He took a spare chair and sat between Craig and Gillian, delighted to take the weight off his aching feet at last. He leaned forwards and kept his voice low. “Thanks for killing the screens, Craig. Now, power them back up, but do it slowly, and make sure to hide Kaine’s locator signal. I don’t want that arrogant, jumped-up clown giving the cowboy any directions. Assuming he can read a satellite map.” Gillian snorted, and Craig played his fingers over the keyboard. One by one, the screens started flickering. Somehow, Craig made it look like they were having trouble with a weak signal. The young man mightn’t be able to find his way around his own back garden, but give him a communications desk and a satellite hook-up, and he’d be an integral part of any rescue operation. The same was true of his diminutive partner-in-comms, Gillian. “ST9, this is Base,” Gregor said, hiding his mouth behind his hand and speaking quietly. “Are you still reading me? Over.” “Affirmative. Over.” “Sorry for the break in transmission, annoying interference on this end. You maybe don’t understand what I was telling you earlier. I’m worried the ARU are trigger happy. They’ll not give you a chance to surrender. More to the point, I don’t want my people anywhere near you if the shooting starts. Do you understand now? Over.” The line fell silent for a few seconds before Kaine replied. “Yes, I understand. I’ll leave the moment ST3 arrives. Over.” “Thank you. And if it means anything, I don’t believe what the media says about you being a terrorist. None of my people think so either. We just wanted you to know. Over.” “I appreciate that, Gregor. ST9, out.” “Good luck, Kaine. You’ll need it,” Gregor said under his breath. He gave Craig the nod. The screens stopped flickering, and the images once again became pinprick clear—minus the ST9 indicator. Gregor removed his headset and put on his game face before swivelling his chair to smile at the near-apoplectic police officer. “Well now, Superintendent Ingram-Howe, what can I do for you this fine afternoon?”

 “Do you have any idea of the penalties for interfering with a police investigation?” the man bellowed. Gregor crossed his arms and leaned against the back of the chair. “No, I’m afraid not. I’m a Scottish sheep farmer during the day, not a solicitor. What about you, Craig? Gillian?” The two IT specialists shook their heads. “No, I thought not.” Gregor stood and addressed the room. “Anyone else know the answer to that legal question?” When no one offered a response, Gregor smiled. “What’s this about?” he asked to stir the pot a little more. Ingram-Howe eased his weight forwards and the heels of his highly polished shoes lifted from the floor. The leather squeaked loud in the near-silence. “Are you responsible for those unfounded media accusations?” “What accusations might they be?” Gregor asked, frowning, genuinely confused by the question. “You know full well what I mean. Sky News is claiming that Police Scotland is running a shoot-to-kill policy. One online source is accusing me of putting a bounty on Ryan Kaine’s head, damn it. Me! They referred to me by name. Did you leak that story?” “Me? Don’t be ridiculous, man. I’ve been in here all day.” Craig stared at the big screen, his expression wide-eyed and innocent, and no melting butter anywhere in sight. Gillian stared straight ahead, stone-faced.

~~~

Cold weather is not something that works for me, so I was happy to be reading this exciting and informative novel by Kerry Donovan rather than participating--even though I'm grateful that there are many individuals who routinely work on or near the mountains to help those who enjoy skiing, hiking and mountain climbing... This is my first book in the series, but I've read another series that took readers to all of the well-known mountains - a wonderful series you might want to do a search on in the right column of this blog...

Readers have the opportunity to visit and read about a well-known Scotland area where one thankful parent whose child was saved had repaid the crew by providing technological advances that were the best available. These advantages, along with a well-trained local group of residents was now more efficiently and quickly helping visitors to their area. And, so as soon as they learned that a young boy had been lost from a group of students with two teaching leaders, they were on the search immediately.  

And, joining this effort was our hero, Ryan Kaine, who immediately came to offer his help and, after proving to the locals that he had extensive knowledge of the area from his past, he set off to where he thought the boy would possibly be... This could have been a dramatic novel about the search and rescue activities, if Ryan Kaine was not an individual who was wanted by law enforcement... Kaine became aware that there might be a bigger story than a "lost boy" that he had to deal with!

We are at a time like what happens in the book. Who do we believe?

Readers do not learn much about why Kaine is wanted. What we do know is that nearly 3000 people died during the incident, but he was never charged. Kaine came in to help using a different name and soon becomes a significant addition to the regular crew... and ultimately becomes aware of exactly who and why the young boy became lost!

Intrigue is the key word as more and more people get involved. And we soon learn that somebody called in to name Kaine was there and an armed team was sent in to find Kaine, while making it more difficult for finding the lost and possibly hurt boy... 

Readers learn that, while Kaine might not be to blame for the major accident, his involvement was so traumatic to him, that he has taken it upon himself to save lives of others to atone for those who had died...

I hope I get the chance to go back to read the first book and catch up on the series. Kaine is a character who downplays his role, leaving readers to make up our minds. He's a hero in this book and, right now, especially, we need heros who work for what is right. Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

Speaking Cat by Beverley Coghlan - Traveling to Weybridge Where Some Residents Speak Cat!

 

The Surrey Tale The first of three Surrey women murdered in Weybridge that exceptionally cold winter of 2009, was a dignified civil servant, Celia Greenwood.  Laura Matthews had worked with Miss Greenwood in the same department of Jobcentre, for going on five years. She became concerned when her colleague hadn’t returned to work after her annual holiday. ‘Mr Van, I’m worried about Miss Greenwood,’ she told her manager, ‘she’s normally so reliable and should’ve been back at work on Monday 29 November, after her hols. Remember, she went off on Friday 5th and it’s now Wednesday 2nd December and I know it’s only a few days over, but she's seriously dependable and always on time. Has she phoned in sick?’ ‘Nee, no, I don’t think so,’ replied Kobus Van der Merwe distractedly.   ‘Would you mind if I popped over to her house at lunchtime? I think she lives in York Road, off Queens Road.  I’ve seen her go into a house there and she told me she lives in York Road.’ ‘Ja, that’s right, she lives in York Road. We share a gardener and I have dropped off his pay there a couple of times.’  

Fergus

A few minutes after noon, still eating her sandwich, Laura was at Celia’s front door.  The thick snow lay fluffy and undisturbed. She knocked several times but there was no reply. A long-haired black and white cat appeared next to her. Laura waited several minutes and then knocked again. There was no response.  ‘Well cat, where could she have got to?’ The cat looked up at her and mewed loudly as she continued talking quietly to herself.  ‘I know she was planning to go away on some kind of coach trip and I think she mentioned the coast. Humm, our Celia was polite and superficially friendly but didn’t talk much about her private life.  In fact, the way we all call her Miss Greenwood is quite weird in this day and age.’  Laura realized that she knew very little about her colleague. 

The black and white cat was joined by a tortoiseshell cat; they watched her as she made her way back down the road.  At around 14:45 she tapped on the manager’s glass office door. Kobus Van der Merwe waved her in.  He was eating a large pasta salad from a pink Tupperware bowl. She reported to the burly rugby forward who hailed from South Africa.  ‘Now, Mr Van, I’m even more worried about Miss Greenwood. She’s not at home. We must find out if anyone knows where she is and why she hasn’t come back to work. Would you mind checking her file to find out if she has any family or friends listed? I think she has a nephew.’ ‘Ag, doll, she’s probably met a toy-boy and run off. Let’s wait until next week before we start phoning and bugging her family.’  He had a broad Afrikaans accent. Laura wasn’t smiling when she quickly responded.  ‘Indulge me, Mr Van, indulge me. Please get hold of someone?’ When Kobus looked at Miss Greenwood’s file, there was only one contact - a nephew, Luke Greenwood.  He lived in Brighton.  ‘Ag hell, I suppose I’d better give him a ring,’ he muttered.  About thirty minutes later Kobus stood in front of Laura's desk. She looked up. ‘Ek is nou bekommerd,’ (I am now worried) he said, in his native tongue.   ‘Luke Greenwood, Miss Greenwood's nephew, said that he last spoke to her the day before she was going away.  She told him that she was taking a bus trip to St. Ives in Cornwall.  It was one of those organized things that these old aunties take.   After I spoke to Greenwood he called the tour company and they said she didn’t arrive at the bus station on Saturday 6th November and they assumed that she had made other plans because of the snow. The nephew also tried several times to get hold of Miss Greenwood on her mobile but there was no response, nothing!  This Luke okie said he’d leave work early and come up to Weybridge today.  He’s got a key to his auntie’s house.  Ag, sorry to do this to you, doll, but I have given him your mobile number; I’ll be away from tomorrow for a few days.  I told him to let you know what was happening. That OK, doll?’ Laura pushed a strand of her straight blond hair behind her ear, pulled at her pony tail. She looked at him with relief.  ‘I really don’t mind at all. I’m pleased that someone is going to check up to see where she has got to. She may be ill.   And by the way, if you call me doll once more, I will empty my coffee on your head.’  He thought this was hilariously funny. ‘Hey, where I come from, it’s a compliment.’ ‘Well, it’s not remotely funny or complimentary where I come from!’ she replied, stood up, straightened her short black skirt and walked to kettle in the staff room more to mask the smile on her face than to get another cup of coffee. That evening Luke Greenwood phoned Laura.  He apologized for bothering her at home but he was worried. He said that he had found his aunt’s house in order but her handbag and another carrier bag were on the bed upstairs and a large suitcase was packed and ready. Her mobile phone was on the windowsill in the hallway downstairs.  ‘...and so Miss Matthews, I don’t think she went away at all. Where can she have gone? Did she tell you of any change in her plans?’   ‘No, sorry, she’s a very sweet lady. I’ve worked with her for years but she’s a reserved, private person.’  ‘Yes, I know. When I arrived earlier, Fergus, my aunt’s cat greeted me meowing and making a fuss. After looking around I went next door to the neighbours’ to see if they knew anything. They told me that they had offered to feed Fergus in the heated greenhouse as arranged; but now they too were worried because my aunt had said that she would be back after two weeks, as she wanted to have a week at home to potter around and it was now well into the third week and she hadn't returned. They tried ringing her mobile but it went to voicemail and when they went up to her door, they could see it on the window-sill. Naturally they thought she had left it at home by mistake. This is not like her at all. Where on earth is she?’ ‘I really don’t have a clue,’ Laura answered quietly.  

I hope by now you all know that I'm somewhat of a cat fanatic... I love cats--as pets, as characters in books, and especially as part of the team that solves mysteries. Beverley Coghlan has created a fascinating story that not only includes cats as characters, but her main character is an individual who speaks cat! In fact, there will be several others through the book that is discovered to speak cat! Now I must sadly say that I don't speak the cat language, but I've had a number of cats throughout my life who have been very good at listening to what I say and responding to my words. Of course, their names are fairly easy to pick up if you start calling them by their names right from the beginning. I take it a step further and mimic some of their sounds and have found they immediately come to see what's going on... LOL

Coghlan has given the  skill to speak cat to the main detective, Detective Sergeant Veronica Witherspoon. She happens to be a member of an aristocratic family--maybe that is what differentiates the royalty from we common people? Readers will not learn whether that is the case, because Veronica doesn't let too many people know that she is really Lady Veronica... She even uses Ronny as her name for most everybody--to me, that means she's not an uppity individual who wants to be known for her title as opposed to herself... What we do learn is that she is an excellent police officer! And she is now lead in a series of murders that have started to occur.

Civil Servant Celia Greenwood had planned on a short bus tour. When  she was gone beyond the day she was to return to work, one of her coworkers brought her absence to their boss. The coworker talked her boss into allowing her to take a longer lunch and drive to her home to check on her. She was not there and when her boss called the company with whom she would be traveling, he was told that she never arrived. By that time, they checked and discovered that she only had one relative--a nephew, Luke, who quickly made a trip to her home. Having a key, he discovered that her luggage was still in her bedroom and contacted the authorities. Fergus, her cat, was quickly on the scene when the two came into the Greenwood home. And he was quite surprised when Ronny bent over when Luke was in another room and told Fergus that she'd be talking to him later! As an aside, a romantic connection began at that point as Ronny decided she found Luke Greenwood attractive... Ronny knew that Luke should be considered at least a "person of interest..." But...

After a marvellous dinner, the dancing started. Prince Jojo Zwelithini, a young man of about thirty swung me onto the dance floor. My word, what a brilliant dancer!   At the end of the second dance I was far from my table and I saw Luke making a bee-line for me.  Despite every effort to avoid him, he made it very clear that he was having the next dance with me. We went around the floor a few times before he spoke. ‘Shall we say that our previous meetings are off-limit tonight?’ ‘Hummm...good idea, thanks Luke.’ I relaxed, the music swirled around us. I lost track of time as I was enraptured and transported to a beautiful, dreamy place. Then the musicians started playing Lady in Red, (I don’t know if it was requested by Luke - that is something I have yet to ask him). I was embarrassed but I felt intense, paralyzing desire for the man who was holding me in his arms as if he too never wanted the music to stop.  When the song ended we walked out onto the balcony. He put his coat around me and took my face in his hands, beautiful hands. ‘Ronny, please don’t mess me around,’ he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, ‘this amazing overwhelming pleasure, love - it’s mutual, isn’t it?’

As we rounded a bend in the path, Luke came into view.  At first he didn’t see us.  He was singing.  ‘Well, well...here’s your man, Baby.’ ‘Shall we pretend we haven’t seen him?’ I whispered. ‘Yes, pull in behind the holly bush.’  We watched and listened as Luke sang.  He had a marvellous rich smooth tenor voice and he was singing a hymn, How Great Thou Art. Then he stopped and looked over the valley. It was a still, ethereal moment and I knew that more than anything, I wanted to be part of his life. I can still go into that magic memory place; the crisp cold air, snuggled next to father, dogs panting, and the delicious mossy smell of the undergrowth. Then the dogs broke cover and ran up to Luke. He turned to see us hiding.  ‘What a sunset!’ he said, his face glowing. ‘How can you not believe in God when there is such beauty all around us? My heart just swells with joy and I want to praise Him.’ ‘OOOOOOK,’ said father who was agnostic.  ‘Luke, my boy, you’ve got a good voice there. Good voice.’  After a short polite exchange, father remembered something that required his urgent attention and strode ahead purposefully. Luke and I ambled back to the house.

~~~ 

The investigation began tracking Celia Greenwood, but was getting nowhere. And soon a body was found floating in the Thames, but not Greenwood! The housekeeper had already contacted the authorities and reported her employer, Emily Zulch, had not returned as expected. Soon, Lilka Kowalski’s body had been found in a bunker on the St. George’s Hill Golf Course. While Greenwood had not yet been discovered, the closeness of the three disappearances was soon leading to officials thinking they had a serial killer in the area...

So, of course, each of the three women had cats who were instrumental in helping Ronny with these investigations... I read an ebook of this novel. There were pictures of the cats included. With the upgraded methodology for inserting pictures in an ebook and then being able to increase the size, these pictures added depth to the story. Here is an example of the original picture and how it looks resized.

I was fairly certain I knew who the serial killer was, but when there are lots of cats, a song or two...hey, I enjoy a book no matter who was the bad guy! I think you'll enjoy this one as much as I!

GABixlerReviews

Happy 3rd Birthday Avi! This gift is an important one - Love Makes a Family! By Sophie Beer AND Dragon: Sibling Rivalry!

Avi's Mom, Dad, and Great Aunt

Avi's Mother and Grandmother and Grandfather below

Can you believe that Avi is three already?! Wow, time does indeed go by fast. And, of course, there were celebrations all around the families and we even went out to have lunch...  And of course I had books but waited to share when we came back... 

 

Love is baking a special cake.

Love is lending a helping hand.

Love is watching from the front row.

Love is playing on the weekend.

This eye-catching picture book is on thick cardboard which is endurable, but also eas for little hands to carry with them from room to bed... The theme is one to which we can all relate--family members who surround the little child loved by all!

Pointing out that families can be made up of different people of all shapes and sizes, it enhances the natural curiosity of a child to get to know who and how they are loved--each page presents a picnic or baking cookies or just making the child laugh to be enjoying a happy time!

Little boys especially love to growl like a monster, maybe a dragon... But what if a dragon is just a little girl and doesn't like to be "growled" at?

Dragon - Sibling Rivalry helps children learn about having a new or ongoing sibling, or friend, with whom they need to get along. The little boy is named Drew and has a pet dragon named Diggeory Doo!

But Diggory's cousin came to stay for a short visit. A little dragon named Lolly Lou... And, for Diggery Doo? You see, Doo thought it would be fun... But things didn't go as he thought!

Hi, I'm Drew, and I have a dragon pet. His name is Diggory Doo. But for a while last summer, we had not one, but TWO!

Dragons are not common pets and raising them is tough. One dragon living in your house is really quite enough!

Diggory's cousin came to stay. Uncle Bill was out of town. It was like we had a sister; Diggery's world turned upside down!

But Diggery learned some lessons from his cousin Lolly Lou. If I tell you all about it, then you can learn them too! Because Diggery cried out it was going to be fun!

At first Diggory was excited, for Digg0ry Doo had never had a baby sister--This was the first time ever. He welcomed her with open arms. But it seemed the fun was over before it had begun

When Lolly Lou saw Diggory's toys, she dove right in to play. And that made Diggory mad at her on the very first day. He snatched his toys from Lolly Lou which made her cry and then Mother scolded, "Diggory Doo, Don't Do That Again! (in a loud voice!)

Then Diggory filled his water gun and soaked poor Lolly Lou; Daddy took his gun away to punish Diggory Doo. Then Diggory found a frog and chased Lorry 'round the yard. We warned him to be good, but I guess it was too hard!

"Diggory," I suggested, "you should find a book to read to your cousin...

~~~

This book is about the size of a comic book and has a shiny cover and back. All pages have colored pictures with small paragraphs on each page to explain what is happening...This picture book's characters are all able to talk, so can be considered for a young child who already has a sibling, or when somebody visits.

This book is part of a large series, so if your child enjoys dragons like most children do, it may be just what you are needing.

I started early with getting books for Avi who is not yet reading, of course. It's my belief that putting books in a child's hands as early as possible provides a way to teach children for the rest of their lives!

God Bless

Gabby

Note: there are quite a selection of Dragon Books by Steve Herman for your consideration on YouTube...