The Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2017 - PART ONE - PRESS PASSES AND FANTASIA

It was wonderful to be back in Essaouira after an absence of five years. Flying to Essaouira from Luton Airport made a big difference and I'm sure that many more people will visit Essaouira because of this direct link, which will be great for Essaouira.

We were staying at a new hotel - Villa de L'O - and it was a real find. A riad hotel set into the old walls with terrific views across the bay towards the village of Diabet, made famous by the visit by Jimi Hendrix way back. Our room was the terrace room at the top and we could see the beach and beyond even from our bed. Breakfast was on the terrace once we had scared off the seagulls. I must mention this breakfast because it was the best I've ever had: fresh orange juice, omelette, croissant, fresh bread, butter and jam or honey, yogurt, fruit salad and plenty of coffee. A great way to start the day.

 
 
  

John on the terrace

 

Me on the terrace

 

Seagull on the terrace

But the important thing was to get those wonderful press passes, which we had been given in the past, so that both John and I could film/record/photograph for our internet postings from the very best position right next to the stage.

We tried as hard as we could, even waited for an age to see the person in charge at Le Medina Hotel and explained our dilemma to everyone with possible influence but it just wasn't meant to be. The official line was that because it was the 20th anniversary of The Festival too many professional photographers had applied for passes and even some of those were denied.

However, the reality was that, apart from the first set on the Friday night when the press pit was absolutely heaving, many in the press pits were young women taking a few photographs on mobile phones and then spending their time dancing. I even saw people without press passes barging their way past the security guard into the press pit. To say we felt frustrated is an understatement.

We were, however, greatly helped by Loy Ehrlich of Band of Gnawa, who gave us two special VIP badges so we could go into the VIP areas of all the venues and therefore could get reasonably close to the stage. And it is thanks to him that we were able to record etc as much as we did. So, a very, very big thank you Loy.

Before The Festival started, John was invited by Ray Lema to his practice with Maalem Abdeslam Alikane and I tagged along. I took these two photos which aren't as good as I would have liked but I'm putting them on anyway. (None of my photos are of the standard I've achieved in the past but my little Lumix camera does not, I discovered, take good photos from a distance. Next year I shall come armed with a much better camera.)


 

Ray Lema is on the left

 

Ray Lema's saxaphonist and drummer

What was fascinating about this rehearsal was that they would play a piece of music and it would sound absolutely fantastic but at the end Ray Lema would suggest improvements and then they'd play it again and this happened repeatedly. It was incredibly hot and yet there they were, honing their skills: quite a dedication to achieve perfection.

And now to another form of perfection: The Morrocan Fantasia.

This is a age-old tradition which is still very popular, particularly for special occasions. It involves about thirty or forty horsemen, dressed in beautiful traditional costumes, who execute their skills by riding hell-for-leather in a straight line for about two hundred yards, stopping dead and firing their muskets at the same time so that it seems to be just one very loud shot.

This Fantasia takes place before The Festival and it's a delight to watch, even scary if you stand too close to one of the horses, as I did. The day before The Festival started, they performed this tradition on the beach. At first, all I saw from our terrace was two lines of people standing some distance apart from the promenade to the shore-line, and then I saw the riders practising so I got my camera and off I went to get a closer look.

Up close, it really is impressive and I'm pleased to say that at least these photos are sharp and focused.












On the next afternoon, the day that The Festival starts, there is a procession through town of many of the Gnaoua groups and you can hear the music getting closer and closer and that's also very exciting. And just below our terrace, near to one of the gates leading into the old city, the horses lined up on either side of the road for hours waiting for I know not what.

I had hoped that the procession would come through the gate and proceed between the line of horses but it just didn't happen. They stopped short of the gate and eventually dispersed. Had I not been in my dressing gown having had a bath, I would have gone down to investigate but a girl can only do so much. So, the horses and their riders also eventually dispersed but to stand without moving for several hours was very impressive and I hope you enjoy looking at these photos as much as I do.

View from our terrace

(By the way, there is at least one British Women's Fantasia team - some of the members were interviewed on BBC Radio 4 Woman's Hour).

It was interesting to watch the setting up of instruments on the stage at the main venue Moulay Hassan Square, all adding to the growing excitement of the music to come, particularly the familiar sound of the ditty-ditty-ditty-ditty noise of the Gnaoau  krakebs heralding the start of The Festival.



This shows the team getting ready for the Bill Laurance and Khalid Sansi set in Moulay Hassan Square. John and I arrived just at the end and we're really sorry that we'd missed most of it because it sounded terrific.

We missed quite a few sets that we would have liked to have seen and saw some that didn't impress at all so I shall be focusing on the three that were outstanding, starting, in my next blog (PART TWO) with the brilliant Band of Gnawa.

NEW BOOK REVIEW - AFTER YOU by JOJO MOYES

For some strange reason, unknown even to me, I didn't realise that this novel was the sequel to the highly acclaimed me before you, and I wondered whether I would find the central subject matter too distressing (euthanasia) but I needn't have worried: after you is a delightful novel, and a real page turner.

Louisa Clark is coming to turns with life after the assisted suicide of the man she was caring for and whom she fell in love with. Will Trayner had been the best in everything he did so when he was paralysed after a road accident he couldn't accept life as a quadraplegic and despite Louisa's best efforts, he still decided to end his life in Switzerland with Dignitas.

It's this knowledge that ultimately she couldn't save him despite all their happy times together that haunts Louisa for most of the novel. She also has to cope with her injuries after she accidently falls from the roof of her building having drunk far too much.

She has a pretty horrible job in an airport bar with an overdemanding boss and an absolutely ridiculous Irish-themed costume, and has a lonely existence, choosing to live away from her family and the snide comments of people in her own town. For a while, her only friends are an odd assortment of people who have also suffered loss as they all attend a bereavement group and for a long time she doesn't feel able to reveal her own situation.

But things change and two people enter her life who have a profound influence on her. The first is Sam, the paramedic who attened to her after her accident. He's the uncle of one of the bereavement group and a pretty gorgeous hunk of a man. And the second is the bombshell of a teenager who turns up at Louisa's flat claiming to be the daughter Will never knew he had.

Lily is a fantastic character, full of high-antics and insecurities. She has run away from her school and her home and it becomes obvious very quickly that her mother is unable to cope with either her daughter or her twin sons, the product of a failing marriage.

Lily is, indeed, Will's daughter and Louisa can't help but wonder whether Will would have ended his life if he'd know that he had a daughter. She also feels some kind of responsibilty for Lily but finds it difficult to deal with Lily's erractic behaviour, often fueled by drink and drugs. And whilst she's clearly smitten by Sam, she's frightened to get too involved just in case she loses him too.

And then we have the behaviour of parents. Will's parents have now split up and neither make a good impression on Lily when they first meet her, so hung up are they on the loss of Will. Louisa's parents are also experiencing difficulties, particularly as Louisa's mother has discovered feminism and is refusing to shave her legs or cook Sunday lunch.

All this is done with a very light touch so even Will's assisted suicide is handled with sensitivity. I was very impressed with Moyes' writing style: sentences just ping off the page and descriptions are woven effortlessly into the story. And it was often surprisingly funny, too.

But her triumph is in her characters. I warmed to Louisa straight away and wanted to know how she was going to deal with all these problems so I find myself picking up the novel to read more whenever I could. And all her other characters are well-defined too so, to me, they became real people whom I cared about.

No surprise then for me to say that I thoroughly recommend this novel. It's a very good read and I shall certainly read more of Moyes' novels, including the prequel me before you.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

The Essauoira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2017 and The Band of Gnawa

The photographs below were taken by me at a number of different Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festivals to give a flavour of how the festival looks. 

The beautiful coastal city of Essaouira, Morocco, is hosting the 20th Gnaoua and World Music Festival at the end of June and the daftnotstupid team (John (husband) and I) WILL BE THERE, after a reluctant absence of five years. Whether we will get press accreditation or not remains to be seen but having those precious press badges for the last three years of attendance made an incredible difference to our reporting of the festival.

View of Moulay Hassan Square from the terrace of Bab Lachour (restaurant).

John's recording and filming of performances are amongst the best to be seen on YouTube and over one million hits can vouch for that and my more humble blog and photographs certainly get a following, so we shall fight tooth and nail to be considered for press badges. Quite simply, being right next to the stage gives a fantastic view that we can then share on the internet.

Gnaoua dancer (right).

 

Maalem Hamid El Kasri, who is in the 2017 line up, and Gnaoua dancers. The dancer on the left also dances and sings with other groups and in my opinion, seeing him many times, he is the best.

The line up had now been published and it's a very exciting one, including the best Gnaoua groups in the country. Sadly, no Maalem Mahmoud Guinea, probably the daddy of all the Maalems, because he passed away two years ago but both his son and brother will be performing.

              Maalem Mahmoud Guinea (2010)                                         Gnaoua dancer

                     
                               Mahmoud's eldest son (he'll be leading his group this year)

 What I want to write about, however, is The Band of Gnawa, who are in this year's line up and who also performed at the 10th anniversary of the festival, in 2007, because their 'practice session' on the Wednesday evening of 2007, the day before the festival started, was an occasion I shall never forget. Quite simply, it was one of the best evenings of my life.

                
                 My favourite Gnaoua dancer - if anybody knows his name please let me know

John and I were sitting having supper on the terrace of our favourite restaurant in Essaouira, Bab Lachour, which overlooks the main venue for The Festival - Moulay Hassan - when The Band of Gnawa came on the stage to run through their set. The line up was as follows: Loy Ehrlich (one of Essaouira Artistic Directors since 2000) on bass guitar, Louis Bertignac, guitar, Jean-Philippe Rykiel, keyboard, Cyril Atef, drums, Akram Sedkaoui, singer, and Maalem Said Boulhimas with four Gnaoua musicians.

                                         Maalem Omar Hayat, who is in this year's line up


When Akram Sedkaoui was introduced in French, we thought that he was actually Bono and John mentioned this in his blog posting. Later on he was corrected by, I think Louis Bertignac, who informed us that what had been said was that Bono had praised Akram's voice. I can't remember the actual words but it was something along the lines of being silver lined.And it was true: he had a wonderful voice.

                                                             Maalem Omar Hayat

Just to set the scene, to the right of the Moulay Hassan Square, which is the main festival venue, is the Atlantic Ocean with small islands close by, and it was a beautifully warm evening and as the set progressed the sun set over the ocean until it changed from hues of pink to ink black and the square filled pretty rapidly, mainly with young men, so there was an enormous audience and a fantastic atmosphere.

The group played a fusion between Western music and Gnaoua and what a set it was! The Band played music from The Beatles to Jimi Hendrix to Led Zeppelin and each piece of music merged into  Gnaoua music and then the Gnaoua group would play for a while and then it would merge back to the Western music and so on. And I must emphasize that this was music of the highest quality.

              Gnaoua dancers (left)








We were enthralled and delighted and wonderfully entertained and what made it even more special was that the crowd watching sang along to all the Western music, totally at one with the professionals on the stage. I couldn't tell you how long it lasted but it must have been more than an hour.





                        Gnaoua dancers (right)









When the festival started for real, we watched this set all over again from the terrace of Bab Lachour and it was just as good second time round.Wish we'd had press badges then and certainly wished that I had taken photographs but I only started photographing and blogging the next year. John did record the set from the terrace of Bab Lachour during their official performance and that can be accessed on his YouTube site. Just click here. Plus, there are plenty of other recordings of this set on YouTube.

John setting up his camera on our balcony facing Bab Marrakesh Square when it was used as a venue (with Gulliver Travels getting in on the act)

I am the first to admit that I'm not a photographer and I very rarely take photographs when not at the festival but something just switches on in my brain when I hear the music and all I want to do is, firstly dance, and then stand below the stage and photograph away, particularly trying to capture the movement of the dancers.

Writing this post and looking through my photographs had wetted my appetite for the festival to come.  Bring it on, is what I say. Plus, give this girl a press badge....please.

To see my festival reports click here.

NEW BOOK REVIEW - THE SUNRISE by VICTORIA HISLOP

I wanted to read The Sunrise because it's set in Famagusta, Cyprus, in 1974 at the time of first the Greek Cypriot coup and then the Turkish invasion, because I have written my own novel Cyprus Blues set in Cyprus within the same timeframe and I wanted to know if The Sunrise was any good.

I was living in Famagusta during that time and became a refugee when the Turkish army swept into Famagusta and displaced all of the occupants apart from Turkish Cypriots so it's a subject very close to my heart. Writing my novel was a way of using my knowledge and experience of life in Cyprus during those times and I'm very proud of what I've achieved but to date Cyprus Blues is only available as an e-book on Barnes and Noble.

By reading The Sunrise I felt I'd get an idea of whether I should pursue a more mainstream publication or leave it be because Hislop had nailed it as a subject and my novel just wouldn't match up.

Reading the positive comments on the back cover of The Sunrise from The Mail on Sunday and The Times and the many glowing reviews about  her first three novels at the beginning of the novel, I started reading with a heavy heart. This was obviously a literary genius and my own efforts would pale into insignificance.

However...the very first paragraph of The Sunrise had me cringing; "Famagusta was golden. The beach, the bodies of sunbathers and the lives of those who lived there were gilded by warmth and good fortune." To me, that is lazy, uninspiring writing. Of course, the fantastic Famagusta beach which spread in a wide curve for miles had the most beautiful golden sand I have ever seen but it's just too easy to just say it was golden.

And then there were all the fantastic boutiques, department stores and ultra-expensive jewellers in Hislop's Famagusta. Sad to say that if there were any, then I missed them and I lived there for three years. There was one small boutique but that was about it. Anyway, writers are allowed plenty of licence and it was clear that Hislop wanted to create Famagusta as a place of glamour to slot in two of her main characters: husband and wife team of Savvas and Aphroditi Papacosta.

This young, rich and attractive couple have so much money that Savvas is able to finance the building of what he believes will be the most ornate and expensive hotel in Famagusta, named 'The Sunrise', hence the name of the novel. Quite an inordinate amount of time is spent at the beginning of the novel describing all the fixtures and fittings of the hotel and had I not have been determined to read the whole book, I would have stopped there since I find that kind of description very boring.

Neither Savvas and Aphroditi are likeable and we learn very little about them other than Savvas is ambitious, chavanistic and fool-hardy and Aphroditi is beautiful, vain and likes wearing nice clothes and very expensive jewellery. They are very one dimensional. There is a chance to more fully develop Aphroditi's character when she has an affair but Hislop misses that chance and the affair lacks passion. If Aphroditi feels any inner turmoil we, the reader, are not aware of this.

The saving grace of the novel is the eventual (thankfully) concentration on the two working class families, the Georgious, who are Greek Cypriot, and the Ozans, who are Turkish Cypriot. The conflict betwen the two communities are reflected in these families and although all the characters are one dimensional, too, they are at least likeable and I did care what happened to them.

When the fighting of the coup starts, a son from each family disappears, obviously to become actively involved, and this is the reason why both families decide to remain in their homes in Famagusta once the Turkish invasion begins because they want their sons to be able to return home. So, whilst the rest of the poulation of Famagusta are getting the hell out of there, the two families remain and eventually live together, first in one of their homes and then in the abandoned Sunrise Hotel, where they live for months and months and months.

However, this just didn't work for me as a plot development. I can assure Hislop that when an army is rapidly approaching your home town, all you want to do is to get as far away as possible.

So, let's return to the glamour dimension of the story and whizz back to before the war. The Sunrise has opened for business and because Savvas has immediately embarked upon a new challenge - the building of another hotel only much bigger than The Sunrise - he has left the running of The Sunrise to his manager, Markos Georgiou. He's one of the sons of our Greek Cypriot family who eventually live in the hotel. He's particularly in charge of the supposedly glamorous night club.

Whilst I lived in Famagusta, my brother-in-law had one such nightclub but it was very different to the one described in the novel. His nightclub was incredibly exciting, with top Greek singers who inspired much breaking of plates as a sign from the audience that they rated the performance. (It's now banned but it was great fun.) It was noisy and vibrant and made you quite heady. There's no such passion in Hislop's nightclub; it's just over-expensive drinks and posing place, with Marcos and Aphroditi (because of course he's the one she is having the affair with) occasionally touching hands. Far, far too sedate and clinical and we learn nothing about how Marcos feels.

In a secluded part of the nightclub in The Sunrise, are very sturdy safes and when Savvas decides to leave Famagusta after the Turkish invasion, taking Aphroditi with him, he places all of the expensive jewellery he has give her in the safes and hands over the codes and keys to Marcos. At this stage, no-one thinks they'll be leaving their homes for long so it's a reasonable thing to do. However, as weeks turn into months and there has been no settlement allowing Famagustians to return, Marcos is taking pieces of jewellery to sell to a Turkish Cypriot in Nicosia, the capital city, miraculously avoiding detection every time despite being in an area over-flowing with Turkish soldiers.

Just quite what he is doing with the money is not explained, apart from buying a few guns for presumably his brother despite having no interest in politics.

As we approach the end of the novel, the plot goes into freefall.

Aphroditi is now living in Nicosia in her mother's house and wearing her mother's clothes because she brought none with her. Couldn't she have bought some new ones? And it goes completely against her previous vanity. On a visit to a cafe, she sees a woman wearing what she is pretty sure are some of her jewellery and so she decides to pay someone to take her back to Famagusta to find Marcos because he was in charge of it all.

How on earth would she know where to start looking and why go back to a Turkish controlled Famagusta, which would be highly dangerous? She has no idea that Marcos and his family are actually hiding in The Sunrise but off she goes on a perilous journey, trusting people who quite clearly aren't trustworthy, straight to The Sunrise. And surprise, surprise, she is raped by Turkish soldiers just outside the hotel, watched by Marcos who is on his way back after selling more jewellery. He shows no emotion and doesn't intervene and so another opportunity is lost for some character development.

Huseyin Ozkan, who is the teenage son of Halit and Emine, also witnesses the rape and Marcos' lack of intervention. He has been following Marcos after realising that he has been sneaking out of the hotel and it is during one of these evening excursions that an incident occurs and Huseyin is forced to kill Marcos in self-defence and hide his body in an empty shop. He can only tell his parents the truth and so the seemingly inexplicable disappearance of their son causes much anguish for the Georgious. Huseyin's feelings of guilt are the closest we come to any real sense of emotion within any of Hislop's characters.

The Turkish Cypriot dealer who had been waiting for Marcos that evening is keen to find out what has happened to his valuable source of jewellery and before we know it, there are three bulldozers outside The Sunrise with Turkish soldiers, ready to knock down the massive security railings, and our hapless group of refugees realise that they had better leave.

They pay someone to take them to Nicosia and here the two families part company - the Georgious to te Greek Cypriot sector and the Ozmans to remain in the Turkish Cypriot sector. Again, this is all told in a clinical way.

So now Hislop has the problem of ending the novel. Easy. She has a final chapter telling us that all our main characters, apart from Savvas, eventually end up in England and details who, through old age or illness dies, and what the rest are up to. There's no attempt to show - it's all telling. Very lazy writing in my eyes.

All that's left for me to say is that I intend to publish my own novel Cyprus Blues and give it as good a go as possible because this part of Cyprus's history needs a work of fiction which will give the reader a sense of actually being there and fully-rounded characters to engage with. Sorry, Victoria but I don't think The Sunrise is a very good novel for all the reasons above, plus your writing style is uninspiring to say the least.

If Christmas Trees Could Talk

Here's a seasonal tale to lighten up your day:

If Christmas Trees Could Talk

A short story by Maggie Knutson

A late December sun was just sinking below the village church opposite when Mo and Isabel put the last ornament on their Christmas tree. “That looks grand,” said Isabel, and she gave her sister an affectionate hug. “We've done it! We've done all our unpacking and put the tree up and all before supper time.”
“We're a good team, you and I,” Mo said. “So who's going to put the lights on?”
“Go on, Mo, you do it,” Isabel said. And with no more ado, Mo bent down and did the honours. The lights burst into a brilliant show of reds and greens and blues, flooding the room with a cheeriness which warmed both of their hearts.
“Now we've got to see this from outside,” Isabel said and, despite the cold, they pitter-pattered outside. They were pleased with what they saw: the tree nestled prettily in the window alcove of their front room as if it were meant to be there.
 “If anyone was passing by,” Isabel said, “what would our tree tell them about us?”
“Well,” Mo deliberated, “... Click to read more

MY LATEST POEM - The Thunderstorm

The Thunderstorm

Trapped in my car
I watch the hard pellets of rain
machine gun into the windscreen
Shrapnel of spray
bounces back
into the darkness beyond

I recall the film 'The Birds'
And imagine each raindrop
as a
Blackbird's piercing beak gouging
deep holes
into the re-enforced metal of the roof 

I dare not move
The world beyond has shrunk into
a black unknown

I am only sure of what I see within: 
my own sharp knees and rigid hands
and
wide-eyed stare
back from the small mirror
used
in calmer times
for make-up


I am late
he will be gone

This now is the only thing of which I'm certain






 
 

New Book Review - THE MINIATURIST - by Jessie Burton

It is Amsterdam,1686, and young, innocent Nella has just married world-weary Johannes, a seemingly prosperous merchant trader. It is an arranged marriage so the two do not know each other.  But right after the ceremony, which takes place in Nella's village, Joahnes leaves his new bride to deliver a shipment to Venice, which will take him away for one month, and it is up to the bewildered Nella to make her way alone to his Amsterdam home after the month is up.

To compound the strangeness of it all, when Nella arrives at his house, which is one of the magnificent tall, terraced houses facing onto one of the canals in Amsterdam, she is greeted by, of all things, a partly open front door and she has no choice but to step inside. Only then does she come in contact with the other occupants of the house: Marin, Johannes' frosty sister, and the two servants, Cordelia and Otto. It is a less than friendly welcome, these three so obviously a tight-knit group, and when the illusive Joahanes eventually returns it is with Marin that he holds council whilst Nella is ignored, hidden away in her own, separate bedroom.

Gradually, Nella is drawn into life in the house and what we are presented with is a most bizarre portrayal of Nella's developing relationship with each one of them and her own growth in character and confidence.

They all have secrets, even the other characters in the novel, and some of these secrets prove to be very dangerous given the puritanical political system of the time, influenced by a calvanistic church, which is not only restrictive but exteremely barbaric. And nothing is as it seems at face value. For example, why does Marin wear beneath each of her austere black dresses a lining of sable fur and velvet? And is Jack London merely a delivery boy? As he plays an increasingly important role in the destiny of Johannes' household, we are presented with more questions than answers.

Central to the story is the large doll's house which Johannes has given as a present to Nella. A strange bridal present you might think and one that has Nella confused, particularly as it is a miniature version of  the house they are living in. Whilst she is not mistress of the main house, she can at least be mistress of this smaller version. She keeps this house in her bedroom and finds an advert for a miniaturist within the city who will make pieces for her doll's house, commisioning three small pieces: a lute (to represent the lute she played for Johannes before their marriage), a betrothal cup (to represent their marriage) and a box of marzipan (again to represent the marriage.)

When they arrive, delivered by the handsome Jack London, she is amazed at the elaborate craftmanship employed. But, to her surprise, there are another three, unordered items for her house: two wooden chairs with backs covered with green velvet and studded copper nails, a cradle, and two whippet dogs. And to compound the intrigue, the chairs are identical to those in the parlour and the two dogs are miniature versions of Johannes' two dogs, even down to the black spot on the belly of one of the dogs. Just how does the miniaturist know such details and what does the cradle represent given that Johannes has hardly spoken to Nella never mind touch her?

And further, unordered items continue to arrive for Nella's dolls house. Each one is very personal to the household, as if the miniaturist knows everything about their lives, not just for the present but also their future.And with each delivery comes a message for Nella, EVERY WOMAN IS THE ARCHITECT OF HER OWN FORTUNE being the first.

As the story unfolds, we see Nella become the woman that these messages indicate, not by choice but by necessity as she has to take charge of the household due to a series of tragic cicumstances.

Nella's search for the miniaturist finally comes to fruition as she stives to understand how she (yes, the miniaturist is a woman)  knows so much about them all. Can the unexplained be explained?


When I started this novel, I thought I wouldn't like it. For a start, it's written in the present tense and I've never read a novel in the present tense before. And secondly, the language is highly descripive and I thought it would be a barrier to the flow of the story.  But I suprised myself by adapting to both very quickly: the present tense makes the story fresh and immediate and I can see its advantages, (so much so that I've written this review in the present tense and will experiment with this style of writing in my own writing); and the descriptions add a richneness to characterisation and setting. It's such an intriguing story all round and I was soon drawn into the lives of Nella, Johannes, Cordelia and Otto, caring what happened to each of them so, yes, I can thoroughly recommend it.

Synopsis of my novel CYPRUS BLUES

It is 1973 and the idylic island of Cyprus is a magnet for tourists with its offer of wonderful weather, beautiful scenery, a relaxed way of living and all that sun, sand and...sex.

 But Kate has come on holiday for a very different reason. She wants to get as far away from home as possible before starting her first teaching job back in England. But she hasn't counted on meeting charasmatic Jack, an expat artist, who has lived on Cyprus for several years. Kate is beautiful but innocent,  Jack is a fun-loving  hedonist, with more conquests than is good for him. Can the two of them ever have a lasting relationship?

And then there's Ellie, a Greek Cypriot, who has lived all her life in london, but has come to Cyprus to marry the charming Tony. It might be an arranged marriage but Ellie has great hopes for the start of a new life well away from her controlling mother. Tony is a Greek Cypriot from a small village in the mountains who has escaped poverty and through ambition, hard-work and a sizable dowry from Ellie's mother, is doing very well for himself. He has opened the first supermarket on the island and merely sees Ellie as a useful workhorse. But can he ever love her the way she loves him? And can he conceal from her the fact that he is part of the Eoka B terrorist group who are plotting to overthrow the President of Cyprus?

As the lives of these four become intwined, there is growing political unrest on the island, with both America and Turkey ready and willing to intervene. Is war inevitable given all the provocations and can these four survive such an outcome? And will not only they but also Cyprus ever be the same?

This novel is now available on scribd

CYPRUS BLUES - MY NOVEL

A big thank you to my technical manager, John Knutson, who has posted the revised version of my first novel, Cyprus Blues, onto the e-book site Scribd, plus a beautiful photograph of Kyrenia Harbour, which we took when we went to Cyprus a few years ago. (You can read the report that I wrote of my first visit to the Turkish occupied Northern Cyprus after nearly 30 years if you type in the title "Drinking our way round Cyprus.") 

Anyway, if you want to read the novel, you can find it scribd on Scribd.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I am now working on my second novel – a murder mystery set in a school in Winchester – Winchester Blues. I'm having a lot of fun writing it because I'm basing a lot of my characters on people that I know/knew and situations in schools that I've experienced. It's definitely pay back time!

Book review: The Casual Vacancy by J.K.Rowling

I enjoyed reading The Casual Vacancy so much that I didn't want it to end. It was like a comfy pair of slippers, a favourite blanket,  a hot cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit. Whenever I wanted to be distracted from the annoyances of life, I would turn to The Casual Vacancy and not be disappointed.

The novel starts with a heart attack. Councillor Barry Fairbrother collapses outside the restaurant where he has taken his wife, Mary, for supper, and, by the time the ambulance arrives, Barry is already dead. And so follows a chain reaction involving a wide cast of residents - posh - middle class - poor - old - middle-aged - young - which has them catapulting into each other's lives in a way few of them would have expected, or, in many cases, wanted.

The setting is the fictional, small, attractive town of Pagford uncomfortably close to the city of Yarvil. Uncomfortable because most of Pagford's residents consider themselves superior to the residents of Yarvil, and in particular to those who live in the large council estate The Fields which is 'perilously' close to Pagford. And it is this irritation that divides those on the Pagford Council. On the pro-Fields side was Barry Fairbrother, who had been brought up in the Fields and was a keen advocate of close links with the estate and in particular supporting the Bellchapel Addiction Clinic ; whereas the anti-Fields (and definitely anti-Bellchapel Addiction Clinic) group is headed by the odious Councillor Howard Mollison, who owns Pagford's delicatessen. With wife Shirley (bitchy and snobby), son
Miles ( weak and smug ), daughter-in-law Samantha ( bored and frustrated ) and business partner Maureen (way too close to Howard as far as Shirley is concerned), they are Pagford's unofficial 'first' family'.

The plot revolves around the fact that with Barry's death there is a vacancy on the council, hence the title. Whoever wins the seat will determine the fate of the Fields and in particular the Bellchapel Addiction Clinic. This clinic is important because one of the many families that Rowling introduces us to is the infamous Weedon clan whose home is a bare, filthy hovel. Mother, Terri, is a heroin addict currently on a methadone programme. She is desperate to keep her toddler son, Robbie with her as is her daughter, Krystal. Krystal is a teenager who at first appears to be a nasty piece of work., but gradually we see that she has a far more complex personality. In her own way, she is far more honest than many of the 'respectable' inhabitants of Pagford. It is easy to feel both disgust and sympathy when we step inside the Weedon's chaotic life. They and the Mollisons are light years away from each other and the other characters fall in between.

Initially, I wanted to describe the novel as a highly sophisticated soap opera, but it's actually far more than that. It's an utterly riveting and highly believable reflection of modern life, its problems, its absurdities, its humour, its tragedies. I felt as if I knew the characters that Rowling has created and I got great pleasure when a number of them got their well-deserved come-comeuppance.

I cannot recommend this novel highly enough. I am full of admiration for J.K.Rowling's skills as a novelist. She tells a cracking good story in a beautifully crafted way.

Audio Book Review: "Oh Dear Silvia" by Dawn French

Dawn French is one of my favourite comedians so I was expecting "Oh Dear Silvia" to be a laugh a minute. But it's far more complex than that. Yes, it's funny in parts - particularly when Silvia's sister, Jo, is involved. But it's also sad in parts, uncomfortable in parts, and disturbing in parts.
The premise is an intriguing one. Silvia has fallen off a balcony and is in a coma. As she lies in her hospital room, seemingly totally oblivious to what is happening around her, she receives a series of visitors who talk to her about what is going on in their lives and dissect and comment on their personal relationships with Silvia.
And so the process starts of uncovering layer after layer of difficult truths ... about the visitors and about Sylvia.
The cast

• Winnie, her nurse, is a warm, funny person. As she lovingly tends to Silvia, she tells her about the goings-on in her gospel church choir.
• Ed, her ex-husband, talks about his period of extreme despair, and how he found a way to enjoy life again.
• Cassie, her estranged daughter, is, at first, reluctant to even enter the room, but eventually does so, taking with her, Willow, Cassie's young daughter. Silvia has never seen her grand-daughter and Willow has no idea who this lifeless body is.
• Jamie, her son, sends her a letter (read out by Cassie) about Afghanistan, where he was on active service, explaining why now he has no feelings for Silvia, but then describing life as a soldier in a war zone.
• Jo, her elder sister, is a complete fruit-cake. There are obvious rivalries between them, but Jo does try to draw Silvia out of her coma using bizarre and often funny methods.
• Tia, her cleaner, tells Silvia gossipy news about celebrities from magazines and explains why, because she's not being paid, she is taking possessions from Silvia's house, roughly in value to what she's owed and selling them on ebay.
• And finally there's the poisonous Cat, her best friend and lover, who becomes more and more creepy each time she visits

Conclusion
I liked the way that not only does Dawn French act as the narrator but different actors played out the narratives of the visitors. So, the wonderful Maggie Steed becomes sister Jo, James Fleet is Ed, ditsy Pauline McLynn is Cat, and so on. This meant that each voice is quite different and adds a variety that perhaps is less so on the written page.
Generally, the production worked, but as the story unfolded, I increasingly wanted Silvia to wake up and respond to the accusations levelled against her. Whether this happens or not is up to you to discover, if you so choose.

Audio book review: Knots and Crosses by Ian Rankin

Knots and Crosses is the very first of the D.S. Rebus novels and I chose to listen to it as an audio book. It didn'r take long - there were just three CDs and about half of the first one was taken up with Rankin talking about the character of Rebus (including the ending of the last book - thank you very much - an unwanted spoiler) and how he, Rankin, was encouraged by his editor to drastically pare down his writing- something on the less is more principle.And certainly you do get less. Very much less.

The plot is simple: two young girls have been kidnapped and murdered and a third one is now missing. Rebus is part of a team working on the case and pretty quickly he starts to receive bizarre messages consisting of string  and matchstick crosses. So, quite clearly, there is a link between Rebus and the murderer. Can Rebus work out the significance of the messages before the third girl is murdered? Not wanting to deliver a spoiler myself, I'll leave that for you to find out if you so choose.

There is also a sub-plot involving Rebus' brother, who is not as respectable as he appears. The two brothers have a strained relationship, but that's hardly surprising:- Rebus has a strained relationship with nearly everyone he knows. He has just one friend plus a sort of girlfriend, but his colleagues find him difficult and when he has sex with a woman he has only just met, he tries to throttle her in his sleep. Plus he steals bread and milk from a shop which I found weird.

In Knots and Crosses, there is less emphasis on the victims and their abductions and more on show-casing Rebus and placing him firmly within the setting of Edinburgh. This Rankin does successfully and I do admire the way in which he uses language effectively, conveying details in an almost throw-away manner. It is here that the less is more works. Where it doesn't, certainly for me, is in the lack of depth of the plot.

And then there's Rebus himself, a deeply flawed man. He's anti-social, boorish, and difficult , with no apparent endearing qualities. Many great literary detectives are flawed in one way or another: Sherlock Holmes, Jane Tennison, Inspector Morse, Detective Harry Bosch to name but a few. I'd find them fascinating dining companions. But not Rebus. I'd want to steer clear of him , and that is exactly what I'll be doing.

The Wrong Mans

If you didn't watch The Wrong Mans (BBC2) then I suggest you buy the box set: it's an absolute gem.

At the centre of this 6 part 30 minute comedy (written by and starring Mathew Baynton and James Corden) is the unfolding relationship between the two main characters: Sam and Phil.

Without giving away too much of the plot, here's a taster as to what it's about.

Sam (Mat Baynton) works for the Planning Department of Berkshire County Council. He sees himself as a pretty boring, ordinary kind of guy. A gaunt figure, hunched into his duffle coat, he comes across as a serious, uptight, unsuccessful man.

Phil (James Corden) could not be more different. Small and well-rounded, he is the eternal optimist ... the annoying Labrador puppy ... the rubber ball that continually bounces back, no matter how many times it's squashed. Life is a big adventure to him and he doesn't seem to mind that he is right at the bottom of the pecking order at the Council: the post boy who is either ignored or mocked.

So here we have a comic duo in the style of Morecambe and Wise - Phil is the funny guy, Sam the 'straight' man. It worked for M&W and it works for Corden and Baynton. And like M&W, they are extremely likeable.

Sam is the wrong man in The Wrong Mans: he answered a buzzing mobile phone lying on the road near an accident. What he hears is something like this: "Give me the money or I'll kill your wife." Sam is a decent guy, he feels duty bound to save this unknown woman.

In order to do this, he enlists the help of Phil who is the s in the title, although at this stage they hardly know each other.

And so the adventure begins, as our two unlikely heroes are catapulted from one dangerous situation to the next at breathtaking speed. Kidnap and death threats are just the start.

The plot is beautifully structured and most inventive. I've certainly never before seen anything as clever or spell-binding as this. Perfect timing and editing meant there is a sharp contrast between the behaviour and attitude of Sam and Phil (often like a couple of squabbling big kids) and the ruthlessness of all the villains they encounter.

As well as the outstanding performances of Corden and Baynton, there are delicious cameo roles by well-established actors: Emilia Fox as  the kidnapped wife, Dawn French as Phil's mum, and Rebecca Front as the MI5 boss.

That's all I'm going to say, except if you enjoy quality comedy then buy the box set. And no, I don't have shares in the production company.

Maggie
(John has typed this in for me - still can't use my computer)

Essaouira Gnaoua and World Music Festival 2013

It is with great sadness that I have to tell you that John and I - the DaftNotStupid team - will not be attending the festival this year, for the first time in ten or so years.

Normally, today, we would be preparing for an early flight tomorrow. I would, of course, be totally ready. John would be sorting out all of his recording gear, CDs and DVDs from last year's festival to give to friends, and, round about 10 pm, his personal luggage.

We have seen the most amazing acts during our visits, particularly for the last three years when we were given press badges to record right below the stage, and we are very disappointed not to be part of this incredible festival. It was just not meant to be, this year.

So, a big hello to all our friends at the Villa des Orangers, L'Heure Bleu, Bab Lachour, and Chez Mustafa, our fellow press corps, plus all the friends we have made over the years, particularly the amazing Mr Robert Ray Wisdom and his wife.

We hope you enjoy the festival, and we hope to see you next year.

Much love and best wishes,
Maggie

P.S. I asked John to type this for me.

Gulliver Travels in Morocco

Maggie took these photographs of Gulliver Travels in Morocco - Marrakech and Essaouira - in 2009 and 2011. I just posted them for her.

NEW PEARLS OF WISDOM

Every cloud has a golden lining - Maggie Knutson ( you need to engage in a lot of lateral thinking to get my drift)

FRIDAY 5TH OCTOBER - A VERY SPECIAL DAY !!!

Friday 5th October has shown me that pearls can happen on even the bleakest of days and these are the pearls (pretty good ones too) :-
* It was my daughter's birthday and she's an absolute treasure
*It was also the 50th anniversary of the very first James Bond movie 
*Plus, it was the 50th anniversary (or very close to) of the Beatles very first record release "Love Me Do"  (and boy were the Beatles a wonderful part of my teenage years)
AND 
I received the latest copy of The Yellow Room magazine (a collection of quality short stories written by women) and to my delight saw that a short story that I had submitted several years ago – Breaking and Entering – was there in black and white. My first publication this year and totally unexpected and therefore all the more joyous. 
AND
To complete my excitement, I saw that there was also a Christie Gitten's short story in the magazine. She was the writer who gave advice to me via my daughter about suitable publications and whose writing, in both prose and poetry, I greatly admire.

But why a bleak day? It's because I'm in the unenviable position of finding myself addicted to the painkiller tramadol and the relaxant diazepam (both of which are part of the opiates groups which includes heroin !!!) These are both prescription drugs which were prescribed to me by my last doctor years ago with no warning of their addictive properties. It was only when I was admitted to the Priory Hospital, Marchwood near Southampton in March that I was told about their addictive qualities and that I needed to come off them.

I'm still recovering from that breakdown in March plus intensive Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for two mornings a week at the Priory and now psychoanalysis. So I'm not exactly 100% well or strong. But in September, both my psychiatrist and my new doctor told me that I needed to start addressing the addictions. The first one is tramadol and it's proving to be extremely difficult.

Three weeks ago, I reduced my 4 50 mg tablets per day down to 3. That wasn't too much of a problem, so, after 10 days I cut down to 2 tablets a day and this has been perhaps too big a jump because I have experienced most unpleasant and frightening withdrawal symptoms: waves of depression, panic attacks, hypersensitivity to touch and sound, muscle weakness, weariness and spasms in my neck and legs. But I guess I'll have to ride this out until the symptoms abate and when I start to reduce again, I'll cut down far more slowly.

Difficult to enjoy the day when you're feeling like that but yesterday I had all those lovely pearls. You'd think then that I'd experience progress today. But sadly, recovery doesn't work like that. So today I'm having a dip and I haven't been able to read that magazine at all. Not sure what's keeping me going. Perhaps it's because there might be another pearl this evening and certainly it's because I'm determined to get this terrible drug out of my system. I daren't think about tomorrow or that I still have to tackle the diazepam.

But tomorrow could be better. That's what I'm counting on. And I'm trying so hard to just take one day at a time. Not easy, but essential. This is definitely a Footsteps In The Sand time for me and prayers would be very welcome.

NEW AUDIO BOOK REVIEW - BRASS TACKS by MICHAEL CONNELLY

Has this guy ever writen a dud novel? If he has, I certainly haven't read it. He is my very favourite crime novelist. His writing is consistently brilliant – exciting plots with breathtaking pace, vivid characterisations, visually descriptive settings and all with a sound understanding of the American legal system and law enforcement agencies. And The Brass Verdict is no exception.

I could be wrong, but I think that this is one of his first novels. His main character is Mikey Haller who is a defence lawyer. Having taken time off to overcome alcohol dependency, he receives an unexpected windfall: he has been given all of the cases of an old colleague, Jerry Vincent, recently murdered. And Vincent's biggest case is an absolute whopper. He is to represent a Hollywood director, Walter Elliot, who has been accused of murdering his wife and her lover. Mikey can hardly believe his luck but soon realises that he has actually been given a poisoned chalice.

He reluctantly works alongside detective Harry Bosch, both of whom do not reveal the full extent of their knowledge. And what follows has enough twists and turns to make it a thrilling read. The only problem with the book is that it does eventually end! Luckily, Connelly is a prolific writer so there are plenty more to read or listen to.

What I found fascinating was that although we learn a lot about Haller in The Brass Verdict, Bosch only plays a small part. Having read a number of Connelly's novels which feature Bosch, I enjoyed seeing the seeds being sown about Bosch's character (maserfully done in an incredibly sparse way).

And the meaning of the title is only revealed at the end, which worked really well for me.

If you want to read a crime novel which doesn't disappoint, read The Brass Verdict or any of Connelly's novels.

NEW NOVEL REVIEW - OPEN DOORS by IAN RANKIN

Ian Rankin is classed as one of the leading British novelists in crime fiction – his Inspector Rebus novels in particular get rave reviews – but I have never read any of them. One of life's little mysteries. But I was keen to give him a go. This novel is post-Inspector Rebus but it is a crime novel and still set in Rankin's Edinburgh.

However, I started to read Open Doors having just finished Steig Larsson's trilogy: The girl with the Dragon Tattoo etc and this novel seemed tame in comparison, particularly the rather far-fetched plot of three friends who plan to stage a theft of art masterpieces. So, I put it to one side and read a Nora Roberts novel instead (reviewed in an earlier post).

But recently I decided to give it another go and I'm glad I did.

The three friends are Mike Mackenzie, a highly successful and extremely rich business man who is bored with his life and looking for a project to spice things up, Allen Cruickshank, a banker, and Robert Gissing,  head of Edinburgh's College of Art.

It is Gissing's idea to use counterfeit paintings to replace the originals stored in a warehouse during an Open Day to the public. Neither Mike nor Allan need much persuasion since they are interested in fine art and the idea of owning their own originals blind them to the fact that it's a highly risky enterprise which they can't carry out by themselves. They need not only a highly talented artist to paint the counterfeits but also professional gangsters to carry out the heist.

Gissing has such an artist in mind: Westie, who is one of his students. And Mike persuades Chib Calloway, a particularly brutal gangster, to provide the heavies and firearms.

And add to the mix Westie's vacuous girlfriend Alice, Laura Stanton, who is involved in the art world and (whoops, can't remember her name and I don't have the book any more) who Mike is particularly keen on, D.I. Hendricks who is in charge of the case after the heist has been successfully completed and his rival detective D.I. Ransome who is keen to to put caraway behind bars. And then, of course, is the ominous figure of Hate who has been sent to retrieve the money Calloway owes his boss.

I found the characterisation rather shallow but the plot did improve as the story unfolded and there were enough twists and turns to keep me wanting to read more. So I would say that this is a good read but not a particularly brilliant novel.

NEW PEARLS OF WISDOM

If we're going to start on the 'what ifs' we'll be here until the cows come home - Karl Kennedy in 'Neighbours'

THE FANTASTIC OPENING CEREMONY OF THE 2012 OLYMPICS, LONDON

Probably the only people who were not bowled over by Friday's opening ceremony for the 2012 Olympics were the Brazilian team in charge of the opening ceremony for the 2016 Olympics. Just how do you top such an amazing spectacle?

It was fantastic from start to finish: the Queen and James Bond, sheep and border collies, Mr Bean being stupid, children dancing on hospital beds, David Beckham on a speed-boat, an array of Prozac- bright colours, Usain Bolt, a bombardment of exciting music, suffragettes, chimney factories rising up from the ground, some of the most talented athletes in the world taking photographs of the audience, an explosion of fireworks, doves on bicycles, a cauldron of copper bowls, not just one but seven young athletes to light the cauldron... The list goes on and on and on...

It was informative, creative, moving, exciting, inspiring, and funny.

If my only regret is that I didn't record it. Guess I'll have to buy the DVD because I want to watch it all over again.

THE OLYMPIC TORCH IN WINCHESTER

The Olympic Torch procession was due to weave its way around the streets of Winchester today round about midday, just the time of day when I go for my swim. I had no interest in seeing  the torch – my main concern was how to get to the swimming pool when I knew that the roads would be closed for some time.

Eventually, I decided to do something I haven't done for a long time due to illness. I would walk to the leisure centre, which takes 15 minutes. I wasn't sure if my legs would be strong enough but I was determined to give it a go.

And I managed it!

But on my walk back home, I came onto Andover Road leading out of the city and saw crowds of people waiting by the road and suddenly I was struck by the wonderful atmosphere and sense of anticipation.

I asked a police officer when the procession was due and when she told me it would be in about 10 minutes I did something I find difficult to do at the moment i.e.wait.

So I sat on a wall and watched as police cars,  police motorcyclists, large open topped buses  advertising products with attractive young women dancing and hyping up the crowd to the background noise of loud music, plus a bus with the next runner and his torch, which stopped nearby.

And then came the runner with his lit torch and I witnessed the changeover of the flame.
It was such an emotional moment  that I was moved to tears.

Of course, I didn't have my camera with me but what really struck me was the enthusiasm of the crowd, waving union Jacks and shouting, cheering and clapping. It was truly inspiring and as I walked home I felt a feeling of elation and of being personally involved in the Olympics.

Pure magic.  And all the more so for being unexpected.

ESSAOUIRA GNAWA AND WORLD MUSIC FESTIVAL 2012 - REPORT AND PHOTOGRAPHS

Me with my camera pass

What a wonderful festival this is and amazing that it has been going for 15 years – a massive four day and mainly free extravaganza of music. John and I – the daftnotstupid team – have been to nearly every festival and as we have done so, we have grown to appreciate and love the genre of Gnaoua music and delighted to experience how well it fuses with other  genres: jazz, reggae, hip-hop, rock and so on.

At first we just watched the performances and then John started to record much of the music and put it on his daftnotstupid U-tube site and I took photographs and wrote a blog on my maggieknutson.com site.. It was such fun.

Added to this, our hotel balcony overlooked  Bab Marrakech, the large square just outside the walls, which was used as one of the venues. Therefore, we had a truly breathtaking view of performances there of both performers and audience. I doubt if any other festival in the world had such an incredible viewing area.

And then, three years ago, the Festival organisers offered us press badges with that all important camera symbol, which allowed us to video and photograph right below the stage.This was in recognition of the work we had done to promote the Festival and to allow others to share in and enjoy the performances. It was like giving a pair of children free access to an enormous sweet shop and indeed a great honour for which we were very grateful.

Then last year, Bab Marrakech was dropped as a venue, probably for financial reasons, and it meant that we had lost that wonderful viewpoint.  But we still had our passes and watching performances really close-up was an incredible experience for us.

This year,however, things were very different. We were still to get passes but there was some doubt as to whether we could actually go to the Festival because I had been ill and had not fully recovered but I was so determined to go and we did, which was an achievement in itself.

And to add insult to injury, I strained a tendon in my right arm on the plane over so I was very limited in what I could do.  Had Bab Marrakech been used as a venue, I would have been able to report on eight performances. But, sadly, it wasn't and I found getting to Moulay Hassan very difficult. However, I was able to watch and photograph three of the performances which you can view once I have prepared them. And, as usual, I have included photographs of the all important audience.


I particularly enjoyed Omar Hayat who gave such an exciting and exhilarating performance that, despite doctor's orders, I found myself happily dancing. (And here I need to thank Docteur Charif Toufelaz who treated my arm and neck so that I was not totally immobile.)

In an ideal world, I would have seen and reported on more of the Festival but this is not an ideal world and for me the fact that I was able to do as much as I could despite adversity gives you an indication of how much I love the Festival.

Gnaoui with Maalems Said Ougassal and Abdella Akharraz 

Fareed Ayaz and Abu Muhammad

Maalem Omar Hyat
 

Crowd scenes

John wearing his new red Kangol


 

NEW BOOK REVIEW - ANGELS FALL by NORA ROBERTS

Nora Roberts has her own particular genre – romance mixed with murder mystery – and it works well for me.  She has a feisty central female character, usually in some kind of trouble or difficult situation, who becomes embroiled in a murder which impacts significantly on her life and manages at the same time to find some hunky guy to fall in love with.

In this novel, Reece Gilmore has decided to hide away in the small town of Angels Fist having been the sole survivor of a vicious attack in the Boston restaurant where she was a chef . She's pretty much on the edge, as nervy as hell and highly suspicious of everybody and everything but she's a great chef and soon finds a job in a local restaurant owned and run by Joanie, another strong , independent and capable woman .

Gradually,  Reece gets to know and like many of the local residents including Brody, who is a writer who very much keeps to himself . But her fragile sense of peace is broken when she witnesses what she believes is a brutal murder of a woman in the mountains which are close to the town .

But no body has been found and there is a suspicion by many in the town that she's making the whole thing up.  And her paranoia is increased when things mysteriously disappear in her flat above the restaurant .  But Brody believes her and the two build up a strong friendship which develops into a romance .

Together, they compose a list of all the men in the area who could have committed  such a crime and as they get closer to the truth , so their their lives are put in danger.

What I like about Roberts is that she tells a cracking good story with interesting plot, well  rounded characters ,  evocative description of setting and intrigue and suspense in bucketloads . If this is the kind of novel you like to read, you've got plenty of novels to choose from - she's a prolific writer.

MENTAL HEALTH AND THE NHS

According to statistics, one in four people in the UK suffer from mental illness. And those are just the people who have reported their symptoms to a doctor. But the NHS is woefully inadequate in dealing with such a prevalent and debilitating illness. I don't know if this is true for other counties, but in Hampshire there are now two tiers of treatment. If you suffer from one of the more 'serious' mental illnesses such as schizophrenia, or are danger to yourself or others, then you get to see an NHS psychiatrist. But if you suffer from 'just' depression, you may be referred to a system called italk. This is a psychological therapy services where the patient will talk with his or her Designated Psychological Wellbeing Practitioner or a High Intensity Therapist over the phone once a week.

Now for some patients, this might be enough but advice cannot be given on medication and talking to a faceless person about your deepest fears and anxieties is hardly a satisfactory situation.

I'm writing about this because I have suffered from depression for over 20 years and antidepressants such as Amitriptyline and Prozac kept me going during this time and enabled me to live a reasonably full life. But nearly 2 years ago my Prozac medication stopped working and I was put on a series of alternative antidepressants but nothing quite hit the mark. So, I asked my GP to refer me to an NHS psychiatrist because I realised that medication in itself was not sufficient.

At first I was told that I had been put on the referral list but nothing happened so at the beginning of this year I asked again and this was when I was told about the new system and that I wasn't eligible to see an NHS psychiatrist. By this time I was pretty desperate so I asked to be referred to a private psychiatrist.

Several weeks later I found myself at the Priory Hospital near Southampton where the psychiatrist I had been referred to took one look at me and suggested that I be admitted into the hospital. I was there for a week and it was a very difficult week indeed. Anybody who thinks that the Priory Hospitals are full of celebrities and places a great luxury should think again. But I received excellent care and I go back there now two mornings a week for cognitive behaviour therapy, which addresses the causes of depression. I'm still on medication but I am now beginning to understand why I am depressed and am now confronting some of the distorted thinking that traps most of us.

The horrible irony is that, to my surprise, this treatment is covered by my private health insurance and so I could have had it much earlier. And, of course, it's not available to those without such insurance.

Do I feel let down by the NHS? Yes. Do I feel sad that this is not available to NHS patients? Most definitely. And this is the result of the economic downturn? Most probably. I've still got a long way to go but I'm hoping, hoping, hoping that I will be able to go to the Essaouira Festival at the end of June. Fingers crossed.

THE ESSAOUIRA GNAOUA AND WORLD MUSIC FESTIVAL 2012

This year's festival will take place from Thursday 21 June to Sunday 24th of June. No idea who will be playing or whether Bab Marrakesh will be used as a venue but at least we have the dates and John and I have booked flights and hotels.

Not sure either if we'll get press badges but since it was the Festival office that gave as the dates, we are hopeful that this will be so.

Still can't believe that gnaoua music hasn't infiltrated mainstream music. Oh well, at least enough of us know how brilliant it is and are prepared to travel the ridiculously long way to Essaouira to revel in the wonder and glory of gnaoua.

Quite surprised/dismayed to find that our balcony room had already been booked but luckily the one on the next floor up was available. Perhaps someone reading our reports thought that hiring one of the balcony rooms would be a good idea. Huh! Me and my big mouth!