Emily's Articles

A collection of charcoal drawings of Fred Astaire dancing. By the Skin of My Teeth April's blog post is finally here with some new artwork of Fred Astaire, just in time! It's been an eventful month that has flown by packed with stress, achievement and family commitments. The stress was mostly due to the new Castle Sefton Press online store, which proved to be more difficult to set up than I had realised due to some limitations of WooCommerce that I hadn't been aware of. Overcoming these certainly felt like a great achievement for almost twenty-four hours, until I realised that the store had a technical issue that I couldn't fix and had to draft in expert assistance. After much head-shaking, groaning and time, the problem was solved just in time for the publication of our second book. Definitely another achievement. In our online shop, as well as books, you can now buy art prints, greetings cards and other products featuring our art work, as well as some original sculptures. We also have some bundles and offers on both art and books, so you can save when you buy a combination of products. Via Paradise The other achievement, happily with little stress involved, was the publication of our second book, Via Paradise by John Blake, on 21st April. In this satirical romp, Britain's workers have decided to have a lie-in, leaving the running of the country in the hands of those in charge. Funnily enough they don't seem up to the job, with bleakly hilarious consequences. Humour is quite a personal thing, and of course it won't be for everyone, but I laughed out loud all through my first reading of this, and then was left with sides aching when I had to go through it again for editing. It's very clever with an action-packed plot that dovetails perfectly, and immaculate timing. It's available to buy direct from the CSP website in paperback, and for the first time also in ebook. You can also purchase it from all the major stores and platforms, but buying from us helps us to keep the publishing business going and produce new art and books. John Singer Sargent When I was finally able to get back to some creative work, almost the first thing that I did was take up a project that I had been trying to do for quite some time: charcoal and chalk drawings of Fred Astaire dancing. The idea came from a preliminary sketch of John Singer Sargent's for his picture El Jaleo that I copied as part of my drawing studies. I felt that this style of monochrome drawing would be perfect to capture the movement of the great dancer Fred. Singer Sargent is one of my favourite artists. There are many things to admire in his work, technical and aesthetic, but the quality that resonates with me most strongly is the way that he synthesises the old and the new into a style of his own. You can easily see the influence of El Greco, Goya, Van Dyke, Reynolds, Gainsborough and the Impressionists in his work if you have them alongside to compare. Inspiration That is what fascinates me: how we can combine elements of the old with new ideas to create something better than either. My first novel Ghost Train is ultimately about that. It's very much not saying that everything was better in the past; rampant nostalgia is an easy trap to fall into when we live in difficult times, but it's never a way forward. That is actually a lesson that can be learnt from history! On the other hand, we have also lived through – and sadly still are – an era of constant change for the sake of change (and ultimately profit, of course). As a result, so many beneficial features of life have been jettisoned and forgotten and younger generations are left completely dissociated from the past. So let Singer Sargent be an example to us all. He used his talent to produce eloquent art that synthesised the best of previous generations' techniques and modern ideas into a style of his own. He shows the way to a creative future for us all. The wonderful Fred Astaire I mentioned living in difficult times, and frankly only an idiot would think that we do otherwise at present. The films starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made at RKO were an escapist entertainment designed for other difficult times – the 1930s – and so I thought it would be cheering to let Fred dance through this part of the blog. The films are: Flying Down to Rio, The Gay Divorce, Roberta, Top Hat, Follow the Fleet, Swing Time, Shall We Dance and Carefree. They all have much to offer as entertainment. Top Hat is probably the most famous of the films, and these drawings are taken from the No Strings routine in that film. I don't like to draw film stars from photographs, which are finished art works in themselves. I like to draw from movies, and it's easy these days to take your own still photos from them. This is a progression of poses that I think is very characteristic of Fred Astaire. Support in challenging times I mentioned that the films were made to lighten the dark depression of the 1930s, but they also carried me through some extremely challenging periods of my life. Looking back, I've found life quite challenging most of the time, and while I think that it's meant to be, to some extent, and that the understanding and experience I've gained can feed productively into my work, it's also true that I still have days when I would love it all to be a bit easier. A Fred and Ginger film is great support on days like that. They all have wonderful scores, mostly written by either George Gershwin, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin or Jerome Kern, that contributed substantially to the 'Great American Songbook.' They have fantastic sets and wonderful clothes, including the most fabulous evening dresses, and they are very funny. Entertainment Fred and Ginger themselves are skilled comedians and great foils for each other (although I think the famous remark attributed to Katharine Hepburn about him giving her style and her giving him sex is glib nonsense.) They also have talented support throughout the series from Edward Everett Horton, Eric Blore, Helen Broderick, Alice Brady, Erik Rhodes and others. There is also, of course, the wonderful dancing: Fred's experimental solo routines, the joyful tap pairings, dreamy slow ballroom numbers and the ultimate merging of all the styles into a complete art form. Under the richness of all this entertainment, the plots are generally viewed as insignificant skeletons on which to hang all that sumptuous flesh of comedy, music, dancing, costumes and sets. Inspiration from the films of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers But I think there is something to learn from them. The stories are slight and make use of comedy plot devices that go back at least as far as Shakespeare, but they are pitched perfectly for escapist fantasy. For something to become absorbing, to connect with its audience, to be relatable enough to draw them in so that they can lose themselves, it must have some element of unquestionable reality; to be an escape, it must be complete in such a way that that same audience never wonders what happened to the characters beyond what they see and be perfectly satisfied by what is on offer. That's quite a balancing act, and one that is a key component of the overall success of the finished work. It's another inspiration to me, because I think it's very important now to write in a readable, entertaining style. I want to use language to its full expressive potential, and I have important things to say, I hope, but I want to do it without making hard work for the reader and to leave them with something of the refreshment that 1930s audiences got from an Astaire and Rogers film. You may well think that I haven't managed that yet, but I'm working on it! Notes If you want to find out more about the making of these superb movies, I highly recommend the documentary The RKO Story presented by Ed Asner.

April Still Life, by Emily Tellwright, 2023 An Inspector Calls Regular readers of this blog will know that I am an admirer of the work of English author J. B. Priestley, now best known for his play An Inspector Calls. My enthusiasm for his writing was, as far as I remember, first ignited by the 1981 BBC adaptation of that very play. Those of us who live in the UK had the chance to see this for the first time in many years on BBC4 this week. (It is now available to watch on BBC iPlayer). (It is only fair to say that my work is not inspired by his. Rather I have always been interested both in time and the human condition and so was drawn to his work – which is widely concerned with both these things – by my own tastes.) Not to be missed In my opinion, this is the best available adaptation of the play. Not only are the cast excellent, particularly the inscrutable Bernard Hepton and the formidable Margaret Tyzack, but it is a superlative demonstration of the old multi-camera studio television, an art form that is deader than silent cinema or opera by telephone. Most importantly, it is an opportunity to experience the power of the original play in unadulterated form. And it seems to me that Priestley could hardly have made his message clearer, despite the obfuscation added by recent directors: all people are connected by their shared human condition, and if we fail to recognise this connection and the mutual care and responsibility that arises from it, only suffering can ensue. The message When the inspector refers to this directly towards the end of the play, and says, "that the time will soon come when, if men will not learn that lesson, then they'll be taught it in blood and fire and anguish," it may seem to refer to the two world wars that were to follow the period in which the play is set, but I believe it to have a more general significance. In fact, 'blood and fire and anguish,' could be regarded as a description of the current situation of many on the planet now, and of the future that millions of others have to look forward to. Integrity Despite this, the most powerful impression that I received from rewatching this programme this week was the dichotomy between the message of Priestley's work and how he conducted his private life. I recently read Priestley at Kissing Tree House by Rosalie Batten, a memoir of his last years by his personal secretary. I was struck even more forcefully by the low wages, long hours and short holidays he offered to his valued assistant when I once more heard his own words criticising the treatment of Eva Smith in the play. Irreconcilable personal and private lives have not been uncommon. One can easily think of examples from art, literature, social campaigning, politics and religion in recent history, but they are no longer acceptable. I have written in a previous post of the generality and importance of love, and I now pair that with integrity, as the two things we can most usefully and beneficially strive for in our lives. What it means Integrity is not about perfection – always getting things right according to some rule or standard – or indeed about rules or standards, right or wrong, morality or the law. It is a kind of honesty with oneself, and is a process to be embraced rather than an end to be sought. It does not mean that we always do the right thing, or even know what is the right thing to do, for which of us is perfect in that sense? It means only that we cultivate the understanding to see where we are, the honesty to acknowledge that to ourselves, and the intention to do a little better next time. It involves love, for to do this one must have the courage to face what is in one's heart and mind with love not judgement. It is the only way to nurture oneself to a better place. And that is a place where we have only one face for public and private, for work and leisure. If we were sticks of seaside rock, when you sliced us up the same message would run all the way through. An Inspector Calls still has meaning This does not invalidate the message of An Inspector Calls. Far from it; I believe that mutual love, care and respect form the only way forward for us, and the only way to the lasting alleviation of human suffering. What it does mean is that there is no battle between the individual and the collective, because when we develop the courage to view ourselves with love and honesty and to cultivate those qualities within, we begin to live with an integrity that cannot but have care and respect for others; our love, care and respect become indivisible. On a lighter note I was delighted to come across this quotation this week: 'Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.' Laurie Colwin, Home Cooking (Penguin, 1988) Readers of this blog, and of my novel Ghost Train, will know that I like food! (I'm not sure if I truly like cooking, or whether I just cook because I love food and it's generally the only way I can get something good to eat). I'm also quite a solitary person, and in particular don't have any close friends nearby who cook, or who have an interest in food other than eating it. But I do have imaginary kitchen friends to chat to while cooking, and they are exactly the people Laurie Colwin describes, including my late mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and Aunty Dorothea, Fanny Cradock, Madhur Jaffrey and Nigella Lawson, some friends who live at a distance, and various other authors and people whose work I engage with. I was so glad to find that in this at least, I was not alone. I must buy Laurie Colwin's book and then perhaps she will join me in the kitchen too.

Last of the Winter Sunshine, by Emily Tellwright, 2025 Seasonal Considerations Valentine's Day is fast approaching, but having written about love at some length in my last post, I thought about food. Festivals and special days like Valentine's Day are celebrated the world over by feasts of special dishes, and archaeology suggests that has been a feature human societies for a long time. In our house this year it will some wonderful cheese from The Courtyard Dairy, and Nigella's Devil's Food Cake. There's plenty of food and cooking in Ghost Train ("I skipped those bits," said JB – my partner and fellow Castle Sefton Press author John Blake – who isn't at all interested in culinary matters.) and I'd had the idea of sharing the recipes of some of Clyde and Zeno's kitchen creations. Why not start with the humble omelette, which is the first thing that Clyde cooks in the book? (Chapter 3, p40 for readers of the paperback edition). Retro Omelettes: Arnold Bennett First a word about Omelette Arnold Bennett. If you're writing about omelettes and the most famous fellow author from your home town, one of whose eponymous heroines shares your unusual surname (Anna of the Five Towns), has an omelette named after him, then it would be rude not to at least mention it. Actually, I've never tried it, though Delia's simplified recipe looks very good, with the characteristic richness of Edwardian cookery. There is a message in this recipe: not everyone gets dishes named after them at The Savoy, which is where this omelette was created; Bennett was a very famous writer and an influential public figure, and it is tragic if his omelette is all we remember him for. The best of his writing is very good indeed and I encourage you to explore it. I also recommend Patrick Donovan's excellent biography Lost Icon even if you haven't read Bennett's work, as he was a fascinating and enigmatic character deeply embedded in early twentieth century society. Retro Omelettes: the 1970s Back to Clyde's omelette. Ghost Train doesn't specify what kind of omelette he makes, but I think the clue is a few pages earlier (p36 in the paperback), when he brings some tomatoes home for this very same meal. It's a 1970s English Spanish Omelette, the one that Mr Hutchinson (Bernard Cribbins) rejects in Fawlty Towers, Series 1, Episode 4, The Hotel Inspectors (about 9.15 minutes in). Exotic British food in the 1970s, as far as I remember, consisted largely of a lot of bizarre concoctions based on ignorance and misunderstanding named erroneously after classic dishes from the cuisines of other cultures. The Fawlty Towers Spanish Omelette, as I shall now call it, was one such as it bares no relation, as far as I know, to anything ever eaten in Spain. But – and this did sometimes happen with these recipes – it is nevertheless a very tasty, nutritious and economical dish. I am going to tell you how to make it. The Fawlty Towers Spanish Omelette This a folded French-style omelette. Delia explains how to make a folded omelette perfectly if you are not familiar with the technique. Or you could watch the redoubtable Fanny Cradock demonstrating in a recently discovered film clip. (I believe you will be able to see it on TPTV Encore very soon, in the 9/2 episode of The Footage Detectives). Like Clyde, you will probably find it takes a bit of practice. Ingredients Before you start your omelette, prepare the filling. For one omelette (using 2 or 3 eggs depending on size), you will need: A shallot, or half a very small onion A small tomato A handful of frozen peas, defrosted Half a tablespoon of chopped parsley Two tablespoon of grated cheddar cheese A tablespoon of butter Salt and pepper Method In a small frying pan, melt the butter and add the shallot or onion. Sweat this over a low heat until it starts to soften, adding a small pinch of salt (be careful with the salt, as the eggs will be salted too as is the cheese, and it's easy to end up with an overly-salty finished dish). Add the tomatoes, raising the heat a little if necessary, and cook until they start to soften and release juice, at which point add the peas and parsley and put your omelette pan on a low heat to warm. Cook the filling gently for a few more minutes, until everything is hot and the tomatoes are soft but still have some shape. Add some black pepper to taste and turn off the heat. Now quickly proceed with your omelette, adding the cooked filling topped with grated cheese down the middle just before you begin to fold. Turn it out onto a warmed plate, and eat it straight away! My mother often made this recipe for me when I was a child, and we still enjoy it today. It's quick, filling and the ingredients are things you would usually have in. Don't leave out the peas, though, even if they are frozen, because as Mr Hutchinson wisely remarks, "I always feel that the peas are an integral part of the overall flavour."

Packing Christmas away Epiphany: time to take the decorations down and go back to work. (Actually, we take ours down before Epiphany these days, as no one visits after New Year's Day and there is a lot more celebrating in the run up to Christmas than there was in the time of the twelve days' festivities.) The process always reminds me of the Mole in Kenneth Grahame's Wind in the Willows when he volunteers to repack the basket after his impromptu picnic with the Rat at the beginning of the book:   'Packing the basket was not quite such pleasant work as unpacking the basket. It never is. But the Mole was bent on enjoying everything...' Back to work No, taking the decorations down is never such pleasant work as putting them up, but there are things to enjoy. In our small and rather full house, one is the sensation of space: for a couple of days there seems to be more room than there used to be. Another is the lengthening of the days and the distant vista of spring. You might have a holiday booked, or if, like me, you are lucky enough to enjoy your work, it can be exciting to go back to it refreshed after some rest and entertainment. Finding work that you enjoy and that integrates with the other facets of your life is something that many of the characters in my novel Ghost Train – now available to buy from Castle Sefton Press – are trying to do, not least the central figure Clyde Tranter. The suspenseful supernatural mystery that looms over him throughout the book is not the only problem he has to consider; after all, what we do with our lives and whom we spend them with are two of the greatest mysteries that we all have to solve, and many things about our society today make them harder to crack for many of us. Resolutions Talking of society brings me to something else. This is the time for new resolutions of course, in fact by Epiphany some have already been abandoned! I know that many people feel overwhelmed by the troubled state of humanity and the planet, and a tragically large number by the difficulties of day-to-day living; they feel powerless to make a difference. But we can. We all can, if we bring just a little more love into our lives this year. A lot of generalisations and stereotypes about English people are nonsense, but it does seem to me that most of them find it difficult to talk about love, and I can sense some of them groaning and rolling their eyes as they read my suggestion. Love for family, romantic partners and pets is now widely acknowledged, but what I have said may well seem to many here like embarrassing silliness. Love But it isn't. If everyone alive on the planet felt enough love this year, most people's suffering could be immediately eased. And it can start small. Not everyone has family, or a partner, or a pet, but it doesn't mean that they can have no love in their lives: you could stop to love the song on the radio, or the daffodil shoot poking through the frozen soil, or that old lady who is keeping you waiting in the queue at the Post Office because she's so slow. Just find something that you can open your heart to. It can be a friend. We're obsessed with the idea of love between two adults meaning something sexual; that's a great thing, of course, but it doesn't have to be like that. I love all my friends deeply, and that's a kind of relationship that was widely accepted until quite recently, from Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson to David and Jonathan in the Old Testament. Epiphany The best thing about opening up to a little love is that it is something everyone can do. No one is powerless because they are poor, unwell or judged as insignificant. It is a practice that will support you in navigating life's challenges and that can ultimately make a difference to the state of the world. You could give your love to a subject or activity for which you have a passion. If you've read Ghost Train – obviously I recommend that you do, but it really would make an entertaining, thought-provoking and uplifting start to your year if you haven't – think of all the characters' passions and interests. If more people truly loved birds, gardening, books, cookery, theatre, dancing, education, libraries, vintage trains and even true crime, would humanity be in the mess that it's in? Of course it wouldn't. Happy New Year, everyone and love to you all.

Busy I'm tired. What with the launch of Castle Sefton Press' first book – Ghost Train – and preparations for Christmas, I think that's only natural. And it's good to be tired from doing productive things. At the last minute too, CSP also had to deal with some new EU legislation, the new General Product Safety Regulation, which means that we have to fulfil various disclosure and traceability obligations and ensure that our books are safe for EU customers. I don't think there is too much to worry about, unless we come up with something like J K Rowling's Monster Book of Monsters. I enjoy hectic times at this time of year, within reason: being busy, being tired, rushing jobs late at night and trying to cram too much stuff into the fridge. It's all part of the festivities and builds up the excitement, although this year's Christmas art work is a reminder that we all need to take a rest occasionally, even at our busiest times. Preparations for Christmas It is also a depiction of a very old tradition as I was reminded by Jane Moulder of the excellent Renaisance music ensemble PIVA at their very entertaining Christmas concert last week. It may go back to the Saxon and Viking practice of leaving food out to appease Woden or Odin at this time of year. Jane also reminded me what a long season Yuletide used to be, in addition to the specific celebration of Christmas. Many people speak with cynical scorn about early Christmas preparations these days, but it doesn't have to be commercial. For example, I usually start thinking about Christmas in September when I make preserves to give as gifts, because that is harvest season. I'm sure that's something Clyde in Ghost Train would like to do. It's all part of the ideas of work, life and seasonal rhythms that are explored in the book, and some of those are themes that I want to return to in future works. Christmas stories Future works are something else I have been busy with. I have been developing a new novel that I hope will become the first of a series set in the fictional region where the Ghost Train story takes place. But Christmas is a wonderful time for short stories too – particularly about magical adventures, mysteries and ghosts – so I have also been working on a few of those. Entertaining by storytelling on dark nights is another ancient tradition, one that has transferred successfully to television particularly in the superb BBC films by Laurence Gordon Clark. If you can't get hold of a copy of my Ghost Train by Christmas, you can experience a very different one in his film adaptation of Charles Dickens' story The Signalman, which is showing in the UK on Talking Pictures TV on New Year's Day. Of course, Dickens' was famous for his Christmas stories; A Christmas Carol remains one of his most famous works of any kind. The week before the PIVA concert, we were entertained by Don't Go Into The Cellar's rendition of the story. Actor Jonathan Goodwin dressed as Dickens presented it in dramatic monologue, very much as the author used to do. I enjoyed seeing a style of acting involving extravagant costume and make-up, pronounced gestures and varied projection of the voice that I had thought totally extinct. It made me think of the magnificently anachronistic screen actor Tod Slaughter in one of his best-known films, The Murder in the Red Barn (1936). If you're new to that kind of thing, you probably won't believe it. Gruesome entertainment The film is supposedly based on the real-life murder of Maria Marten in 1827, although from what I remember from the excellent permanent exhibition at The Moyes Hall Museum in Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk (UK) it doesn't bear much resemblance to the true story. The exhibition contains one of the most sinister objects I have ever seen close to: a book telling the 'Red Barn Murder' story that is bound in the tanned skin of the (supposed) murderer, William Corden. A book bound in human skin. I don't think that would pass the EU General Product Safety Regulation. Wishing everyone a merry and festive Christmas season, and looking forward to some engaging new stories in 2025.

Christmas is fast approaching. It is once more the time of short, dark days, warm glows and twinkly lights, hearty meals and inward pleasures. Like Clyde in Ghost Train, I have prepared the dark, rich foods of the heart of winter: mincemeat, fruit cake and a round splodge of a Christmas pudding. The first mince pies, a delight enhanced by their long absence, have been baked and eaten, I have rooted out my plastic apron with the holly pattern, and the artwork for this year's Christmas cards is completed. Outside, the garden has been subdued by the touch of frost and snow. Through it all, I'm looking ahead to New Year 2025. Reflections on the season. The equinox seasons – autumn and spring – inspire work and energy, whilst the solstice ones – winter and summer – demand leisure and indulgence. There is no more welcome feeling I know than the anticipation of Christmas. There is no celebration that is, in our society, so widespread, and no better time than the shortest, darkest days to eat, drink and be merry with friends. Our shopping streets, like Ridgeley's in Ghost Train, may be scrappy remnants of what they once were, and our excitement may be a mere shadow of that felt in the innocence of a childhood in simpler times, but there remains something life-affirming about that small flame of enthusiasm that flickers into being inside us in December at the thought of the occasion to come. Just a few months ago, the thought of it all stirred nothing except a slightly weary remembrance of all the work involved, and yet now the small spring of seasonal delight is bubbling away. It is a kind of magic. There is also the wonder of the stillness of Christmas morning. If you have excited children, visiting family, presents to open and dinner to cook you may find that fanciful, but all that energy and activity sits on top of the peace of a morning when more of us than at any other time have ceased our regular activities. If you have just the space of one breath to pause, you will feel that peace, the quiet as of a landscape muffled in fresh snow. It's as if the Earth itself had stopped spinning before setting off in a new direction. The things that survive into New Year 2025 I have no idea what this Christmas will bring to me or to the world. There are trials and suffering all around and I don't know if more troubles or some relief are coming. But my question is, whatever is coming, what will you carry through it? What is so much a part of you that you will still feel or believe it whatever happens? As we pass through Christmas, the full stop of the year, what things about ourselves will still be with us for the start of 2025? The things that survive will be the things that form our identity, that make us who we are during our life on this planet. If you're interested in how ideas change over time, what we believe and then leave behind and how society changes as a result, you will enjoy my new novel Ghost Train, which is coming out on 13th December. There are also spooky happenings to be explained, some comedy and delicious food along the way, and of course mysterious trains. What could be better entertainment for this time of year?