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Report Number 17    AUGUST 2004

Kelly started out at almost precisely the moment that Ned opened up his conversation with me . . .

It would be an exaggeration to say that Saturday 28th of August was the best of times and the worst of times but it did provide a neat, surreal demonstration of the vagiaries of the self-employed writer’s life. The best time was being on Ned Sherrin’s “Loose Ends” radio programme. This is smart stuff – not perhaps, as good as getting a “Desert Island Disc” or an interview with Jeremy Paxman but sophisticated, high exposure broadcasting. Tamsin, the wonderful publicity person, was over the moon. So was I. Ned was his usual urbane, witty self and better still he was scrupulously well-prepared. Not only had he read my “Village Cricket” book, he had his own recollections and thoughts about the cricket fields of his youth, and West Country vicars and the Archers and the relative merits of winning and having fun (not at all the same thing). The other guests included Stuart Christie, who I remembered as a long haired teenage anarchist, locked up for trying to assassinate Franco who had turned into a soft-spoken fifty-something moustache, a stand-up comic called Mullarkey, the actor Brian Cox and sundry musicians. It was all extremely enjoyable as well as being thoroughly professional and I departed for a one-day cricket final at Lord’s in high spirits.

“Loose Ends” actually aired between 6.15 and seven that evening and I went to my room at the Groucho Club to listen in comfort and private. It was only then that I realised that Kelly Holmes, Britain’s 800 metre gold medallist, was going for the double in the 1500 metres final in Athens. What’s more Kelly started out at almost precisely the moment that Ned opened up his conversation with me on Radio Four. I listened to myself while watching Holmes do the business with the sound turned off. This, in itself was a strange experience, but it was compounded by the fact that even at the time I realised that I was practically the only person in Britain who was listening to “Loose Ends”. 

I was almost correct. My wife and my mother both heard me but I think that was about it! So, best of times, worst of times, and pretty much what the writer’s life is about.

Actually I’m quite glad August is over. It may not be the cruellest month but, particularly in Cornwall, it’s the oddest. All around you people are on holiday and while it’s good to see people having a good time it’s mildly irritating to find so many offices closed, so many editors on the beach and so many potential investors in the great travel magazine incommunicado on their yachts or in their villas. Half the world seems to be crammed into the queue in the local deli or five deep at the bar of the Galleon. Thank you Red Arrows for a spectacular display during Regatta Week but roll on winter and peace and quiet.

Most of my recent writing has been “A Death on the Ocean Wave”, the third of my hero Tudor Cornwall’s full length adventures. This time Tudor Cornwall is guest speaker on a transatlantic cruise (Never waste a real-life experience, though it’s almost a year since Cunard invited me on one of their ships – hint, hint!). Tudor’s ship is sailing serenely towards choppy waters and I’m rather enjoying it. I have high hopes of this series not least because the hard back edition of the first, “Death and the Visiting Fellow”, has sold out. The bad news, for the moment at least, is that the book is unobtainable and the publishers say there is insufficient demand to justify a reprint. Work that one out if you can. The poor little book has only been out for a few months and all the copies have sold. It is being widely advertised on the net. I have given away my own last copy. The loyal local bookseller (Bookends of Fowey) have a copy in the window but the book is beginning to show signs of becoming a collector’s item – another sign of good times, bad times (see above).

I had a promising August day in West Dorset with Cleeves and John Palmer who run the eponymous family brewery. They want a history of the family business so watch this space. I’m sure it would be fun but can I afford to do things for fun? Discuss. And on the subject of fun I look forward to the day when I can openly discuss my history of the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award, a book that was commissioned ages ago and was going to be I thought, a labour of love but…no, it’s too early to talk but one day I will, I promise.

The Independent on Sunday finally used my travel piece on Quimper in Brittany a day after my Ned Sherrin interview. It was great to see it in print but salutary to realise that it was a year since I wrote it. The stock-piled waiting lists of unused articles in travel editors’ offices should be a matter of serious concern to the trade. Maybe it is. One thing I promise and that is that if I ever have any serious power on this travel magazine that Chris Meakin and Geoff Lace are trying to set up then we will pay on acceptance and do our absolute level best to get pieces into the magazine as soon as possible after we receive them. This has been a nightmare for years. My worst experience was some twenty or so years ago when a glossy magazine took a piece of mine which featured a wonderful pub in South Dorset. When they finally published it the pub had burned down. Nobody checked to see that it was still in business and I, as the author, naturally, took the blame.

Meanwhile life continues or doesn’t. In a few days I have yet another funeral. My much-loved and respected doctor, Iestyn Bowen, years younger than me, finally succumbed to the cancer which ambushed him unexpectedly less than a year ago. As I type this in the middle of the night CNN is showing clips of the two French journalists kidnapped in Iraq and threatened with death unless the French government repeals its ban on children wearing headscarves in school. The world certainly seems a mad, sad place and one is very lucky to be sitting quietly tapping away at one’s keyboard tucked away in this beautiful south-western corner of the United Kingdom. 

I had an e-mail yesterday from my younger son who is in Argentina on the first leg of a year long round-the-world odyssey. My other three children are in London, Auckland and Miami. There was also an e-mail from my brother-in-law in Brisbane. His son is in China. Is his daughter going to Nottingham or Basel?  Is my sister-in-law off to Lithuania?  What has happened about my invitation to Venice?  Or the voyage round the Caribbean? Or the walk in the Jura? 

Part of me wants to stay safely and quietly at home; part of me wants to be out there having adventures.

I am confused of Cornwall!
Tim Heald

August 2004                  

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