Bodies in the peat

We went on Thursday to the Lit & Phil for the launch of Val McDermid's new book, The Grave Tattoo. One of the questions from the audience was "Aren't you ever worried that someone might steal your idea?", and of course Val said no, that wasn't a problem, if you gave six crime writers the same plot idea they would still write six completely different books. As it happens, I can illustrate this from my current reading:

( The Grave Tattoo starts with a landscape, with extreme weather, and the body it brings to light )

( So does Useful Idiots )

Val McDermid reaches back from the present-day into the history of the nineteenth century - real history, spinning from the extraordinary fact that William Wordsworth and Fletcher Christian were schoolfellows. Jan Mark's central character also investigates the past, but as a professional archaeologist - and her novel is set in the year 2255. No problem here with comparable starting points leading to similar books, then.

Walking in Cloud

Today's was a walk of two halves. We headed for the hills, for the first time this year, and although the weather was mistier than we had anticipated, persevered with a favourite winter walk: park near the chimneys (a relic of lead mining days), walk along above the valley to Edmundbyers, lunch at the Punchbowl and walk back on a parallel but lower route. It had been cold enough to freeze the ground, which made walking easier, but was no longer cold enough to be uncomfortable, the mist threatened to clot into rain but never quite did, a watery sun tried to shine and we congratulated ourselves on having made the right decision.

Until we reached Edmundbyers to discover that the Punchbowl was closed - closed as in vacant, which is a great pity. It was not just a convenient place to lunch on a winter walk, but a good pub in its own right: friendly, with good beer (sometimes local brews), good food and a real fire. Adding insult to injury, the public conveniences behind the pub were also closed (and being either demolished or rebuilt, by the look of it).

We were rescued from this disaster by the generosity of a pair of fellow ramblers, who found us standing by their car discussing what to do next, and offered us a lift to somewhere nearby. So we were able to relocate to Blanchland, to lunch in the White Monk Tea Rooms (formerly the village school) and then walk in fleeting sunshine along the river to Bay Bridge and up throught the woods, the descending mist and the remains of the lead mining industry, back to the car.