Charlie Whipple - R.I.P.

I was greatly saddened to learn that Charlie died last week from pancreatic cancer. We'd been distant writing friends for about a decade - distant in the sense that he lived in Japan and I live in Spain. He was a prolific writer of fiction and non-fiction and with wide interests and he touched many lives. We co-edited a western anthology, A Fistful of Legends (2009). He wrote his excellent westerns under the pen-name Chuck Tyrell; his Japansese historical adventure stories with the overarching title The Masacado Scrolls are written as Charles T. Whipple.

A good and sincere friend with a sense of humour.

Fellow author Tom Rozzo has posted a tribute to Charlie here:

Those who knew Charlie are diminished by his passing.

Condolences to his family.

R.I.P, Charlie.

Roger Eames, R.I.P.

Our friend Roger died on 30 September. He was born 1 May 1940. There was a memorial service to celebrate Roger’s life at Campoverde Church on Monday, 7 November at 11:30. Members of Chorale (Christine’s choir), Vivace, Coro Pilar and others sang, and Jennifer sang a solo, ‘Where’er You Walk’.

Order of Service - p2 - RAE - Roger Andrew Eames

As his obituary says, he was “a brilliant husband, dad, and grandpa who will be very sorely missed.”

Roger bravely battled bladder cancer for 6 years before it claimed him. He was full of courage, showed wisdom with a twinkle in his eye, and was a purveyor of “fabulous” jokes. His various pursuits revealed his endless patience: a wordsmith not averse to the odd pun, he was also an excellent model-maker and incredible jazz bass player and producer.

Six years ago I wrote an article about Roger that was published in the local magazine, The New Coastal Press, June 2010, under the title ‘A Model Retirement’. This is a fair portion of it, which illustrates his artistry, skill and infinite patience:

Roger Eames has three passions, it seems: his wife Christine, music and his modelling. The last developed from his childhood interest in model railways.

            While living in Northampton, he met an ex engineer called Arthur who offered to make glass display cases for him. ‘Indeed, quite a lot of modellers were Reverends or engineers,’ he says. Roger pointed out that the Pendon model museum, established in 1954, was and still is an inspiration to any modeller. Many excellent images of model scenes and dioramas can be viewed at www.pendonmuseum.com.

            For about forty years Roger has created models – some eighty of them, in thin glass cases, their edges soldered with copper. They’re attractive to look at and you can spend considerable time studying the exquisite detail.

            ‘It’s essential to plan ahead,’ he says. ‘I measure everything first on card and create a mock-up using Publisher, computer software. Remember, these buildings are 1:72 scale.’ The finished product will be semi-relief – false front, if you like – and three to four inches deep.

            His source material is usually a number of photographs, mixing and matching. He’ll begin with a prototype and work from there, altering as appropriate. ‘I’m very self-critical,’ he says. ‘Sometimes, I’m not satisfied, no matter how long I’ve spent on the piece, and it has to go – though I’ll butcher it to preserve certain items, of course!’ It’s quite satisfying, as often the process entails a certain amount of problem solving. ‘It certainly isn’t model-making by numbers!’

            The materials he has used over the years vary. ‘I’ve tried to keep abreast by reading railways magazines.’ Straws and spaghetti might serve as pipes or architectural embellishments; tealeaves mimic ivy, small pieces of Rutland oolite stone and cork can give a faithful reproduction of old stone walls. Care must also be taken regarding the potential danger of adhesive fumes and paint smells.

            In the old days, as if emulating Blue Peter presenters, he used brown sticky paper. Also, he’d utilise poster paints, oil, cardboard, Perspex and lichen. Now, he employs acrylic paint, modern glues, etched brass plates and obtains many of his materials via the Internet. For example, Spanish paints from the Vallejo Company offer over 200 different colours. Websites such as scalelink.co.uk are useful providers of items, such as bricks and stones, providing the scale is right.

            ‘I much prefer to depict real textures you can feel,’ he says. ‘I’m not keen on printed facsimiles of surfaces.’ Some items are only available from specialist suppliers nowadays, such as self-adhesive paving, but given the time and inclination he will make them himself.

            A single building can take from two months to two years from conception to end. In his individual miniature scenes, Roger has to have an eye for transposing – whether that’s trees, post boxes or people – thus moving them to different positions from those depicted in the source photo.

            Like many hobbies, it’s a solitary pursuit. ‘I find working on these models is an antidote to music-making, which is a more social activity.’ While working in the BBC – on their radio music programmes – Roger took a sabbatical and was part of a craft promotion in Japan. Various British craftsmen and women exhibited their talents – jewellery makers and model boat builders, for example. Perhaps not surprisingly, the Japanese were fascinated with miniaturization, watching Roger on the stand as he built a model with the aid of a magnifying glass. Roger sold twenty models and was even commissioned to provide others.

            Some of Roger’s models were displayed in the Savoy Hotel – a row of cottages, a pub and one was bought by Janet Jackson. Roger has been commissioned to replicate existing properties which entails making measurements he can then reduce in scale for his model.

            The amount of detail is quite remarkable, whether that’s a Vernacular arch or Georgian and Victorian buildings from London, completing the scene, an Austin 1934 taxi will be thoroughly appropriate to the era. Street signs and posters are somewhat easier these days, thanks to the computer.

            Often, behind the curtains, furniture can be glimpsed, walls decorated, lights courtesy of fibre optics and LEDs. He’s particularly proud of his pub, the Ruddles Arms with its drinkers inside.

            Roger created a film studio for his son Dominic, who is involved in filmmaking. For his son Miles, he created a pub with a band playing inside. For his granddaughter Sophie he is creating a ladies’ clothing boutique. For a close friend who was a Methodist minister he built a chapel and adjacent manse. Usually, he likes to include two or three figures to represent life and action.

            In effect, these models are slices from reality.

            Still on the drawing board are Victorian shops, a garage, and a ballroom. ‘One day,’ he muses, ‘I’d like to exhibit my collection. One day soon.’

            The theory goes that retirement was supposed to provide more free time, yet Roger is a popular and successful jazz musician and writes for a local newspaper as well. He has just celebrated his seventieth birthday and shows no sign of letting up: ‘I’d like to make models of the houses we’ve lived in – and there are lots! – but I don’t seem to have the time.’

***

Until recently, Roger and Christine played live jazz at El Pescadito restaurant, Mil Palmeras.

R.I.P., Roger.

Blue Cat - R.I.P.

Our daughter and family's Blue Cat has been put to sleep by the vet as he had feline leukemia.  He gave the family many happy years.

Grandson Darius, 8, was understandably upset and through his tears said, "I want to kill cancer."  We can only hope that he or one of his contemporaries might do that one day.

R.I.P. Blue Cat

This book has brought consolation to many cat (and other pet) owners: The Tale of Wisdom and Delight by Mari Lafore

What a load of baloney

You’re probably aware of the latest pronouncement from the World Health Organisation  (WHO). Are these people from another planet, escaped from an episode of Dr Who, perhaps?

It has been reported that the International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC), part of the WHO, states that consumption of processed red meat, and cured meat, is in the same carcinogenic category as asbestos, alcohol, arsenic and tobacco. If you read their statements they include weasel words such as ‘could cause’ and ‘may cause’ and ‘probably linked to’…

A professor said, ‘Cancer Research UK supports IARC’s decision that there’s strong enough evidence to classify processed meat as a cause of cancer, and red meat as a probable cause of cancer.’ And then goes on, ‘We’ve known for some time about the probable link between red and processed meat and bowel cancer, which is backed by substantial evidence…’ There’s a strong belief that there’s a ‘causal link’ to bowel cancer, and possibly prostate cancer.

 

Bottom line - eat sensibly, and maintain a balanced diet. Common sense says don't eat burgers every day, perhaps...? One wonders if there was an epidemic of colon cancer forty years ago when almost everybody ate a cooked breakfast, including bacon, every day...

As usual, it’s the headlines that do the scaremongering. There are too many cases of bowel cancer – one is too many if you’re a sufferer – but this scaremongering isn’t sensible. Apparently, the IARC has looked at over 900 substances since 1971 and decided that all, apart from one, is at least capable of causing cancer in certain circumstances. That single exception? A chemical in yoga pants…

The IARC does not compare the level of cancer risk associated with different substances in a given category, so it does not suggest eating meat is as dangerous as smoking, though they’re in the same category! Either the IARC is not fit for purpose or the number of defined categories is too narrow. As it stands, their report seems unhelpful. Still, it keeps them in work – to bring home the bacon.

Note: Baloney means ‘nonsense’ and is derived from Bologna; in the US it is another term for Bologna sausage, which may be processed meat.

This isn’t the first scare and won’t be the last. In my book Catacomb (just published!) I refer to another similar instance relating to talcum powder, which is still inconclusive and ongoing while lining the pockets of lawyers:

Cat was glad she’d chosen this perch. She’d be no match for any of them, she felt sure, Taekwondo training or no. Training was one thing, while a life-and-death situation was quite another. She peered down...

            As the sound of the retreating carts and men diminished, Pointer said, “You’ve got a good racket going here, Zabala. Looting these tombs and selling the finds to private collectors, probably to the highest bidder. Is that it?”

            “Something like that.” Zabala gestured at the nearest catacomb. “This was a surprise find, actually, a horde of Moulay Ismail’s possessions from the seventeenth century.”

            “Luck, was it?” Basset asked.

            “Yes, in a way. A few months ago, Maclean, our surveyor, was looking for talc…”

            “The local chemist has plenty,” Basset retorted, “even after that ovarian cancer scare.”

        Cat remembered that. She’d studied it. Yet another instance of scare-mongering with inadequate data and a total lack of common sense: volume of talc sales compared to the incidence of ovarian cancer? Before 1973, talc might have contained minute traces of asbestos. Talc miners were tested for lung cancer. For years lawyers have plagued cosmetic firms with lawsuits, fighting on behalf of unfortunate sufferers, but no case has been proven conclusively. Apparently, studies in rats showed lung damage caused by talc; which wasn’t surprising since they were forced to inhale talc for six hours per day for six years; she recalled the critics of the tests called it “particle overload”. Poor bloody rats. Manufacturers ensure the relatively large, non-respirable particle size in talc powder so it can’t be inhaled into lungs. These scare stories run and run, and at one point talc was even taken off some shelves, yet there was no significant statistical proof. She hated it when the science was bad science and had more to do with hubris, greedy lawyers, inadequate statistics or commercial competition than saving lives.

            Zabala scowled. “For someone whose life is in jeopardy, you’re too flippant, Sergeant.”

            “That’s me,” Basset said, shrugging, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Sorry I interrupted. You were telling us about your surveyor looking for talc deposits?”

            “I was. He found a large deposit of talc, several thousands of metric tons; its seam is about fifty percent talc, fifty percent calcite. Nowhere near as big as the Nkob deposit west of Ouarzazate. Still, Cerberus has planning permission to mine the talc. Naturally, the Moroccan government gets its cut. Maclean is back in London with his report and all the boring paperwork.”

            “But instead,” Pointer interjected, “he found these tombs?”

            “No. He left behind a couple of men to begin experimental drilling. Got the shock of their lives when one of them fell through here.” He pointed up at the small hole visible in the cave gallery ceiling. “Sadly, he didn’t survive the fall. His associate contacted HQ and I scooted here to have a look – and conceal the unfortunate death.”

            “I suspect you’re quite good at that,” Pointer said.

*** 

Catacomb, published by Crooked Cat Publishing in e-book and paperback formats.

BARNES & NOBLE books:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/Nik+Morton/_/N-8q8?_requestid=185965

SMASHWORDS books:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/search/Nik%20Morton/

 
KOBO books:

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AMAZON COM books:

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=nik+morton

AMAZON UK books:

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Scheer tenacity

American writer Ron Scheer knows how to string words together, with a vengeance. He’s also gifted with good observation and a sense of humour, which is bound to help, since he is in a constant battle with cancer, aided in the fight by his wonderful wife.

Just over a year ago he came out of surgery that removed most of a malignant tumour from his brain. Since then he has intermittently written about his experiences, as well as providing illuminating book and film reviews on his blog, Buddies in the Saddle. His prime interest may be westerns in all guises, but his inquisitive brain ranges way beyond that wild frontier.

 

 

Here are some snippets:

“My memories of that time are marked by the sound of cactus wrens outside my bedroom, chattering away each morning as I welcomed the new day, sometimes after an endless night of dreadful dreams and sleeplessness…. And I marveled at the flowering plants sent by a family friend. Here we were alive together.”

“…I will give consideration to the insights of others. Here metaphors come in handy, as do wordless experiences like stepping outside at night under a desert sky to be awestruck by the display of moon and stars. Or to listen to music that convinces me it embodies the living playful spirit of the Universe—the music of the spheres.”

I wrote about Ron in two blogs last year and have been remiss in not writing more.  You can find them here:

 

Irritable twin

Facing light

Or better still, go to his blog. Some of his more recent observations about his ability – or even inability – to combat problems caused by the big ‘c’ and the medication can be seen here:

 

Knickers and twists

Busy, busy

We writers strive to convey some of the ‘human condition’ in our fiction. Here, Ron gives us truly moving examples of it in beautiful prose. A heartfelt ‘thank you’, Ron. Keep writing!