Too many times, too many times.

When my mother was very old, her brother once asked her, ‘What would you do, Gretta, if you looked up and saw the man with the black cloak and the scythe standing beside your chair?’

She thought about it, then replied, ‘I’d probably ask him if he could come back tomorrow.’

That’s more or less how it worked out for her, and for my uncle too; they got to go in their own time. But it doesn’t always play that way. A few days ago, Thomas Richard Lewis V, the beloved husband of my beloved sister-in-law Margaret, suffered a massive stroke at their home in Smyrna, Delaware, USA. He died four days later without regaining consciousness, at the ridiculously early age of 68. He and I lived our lives on different continents, so we didn’t see nearly as much of each other as I’d have liked, but every time that we did meet, or when spoke to him by telephone, or lately, exchanged emails, I felt the better for it.

Tom was the epitome of everything that is good about his nation. A graduate of Massachusetts Institute of Technology, he put his education to the best possible use, working long hours with short holidays as a computer programmer in and around Wall Street. He might have been in the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001, but fortunately he missed that one. But Tom was no geek, he was a brilliant, funny guy, with a unique turn of phrase, and I doubt if he ever said a thing that he didn’t mean. When Margaret visited Scotland and he stayed at home, working, he wrote to her every day. She showed me some of his letters, which were wonderfully droll, with nothing ever understated. If she’s kept them all, they’d make a book. In addition to Margaret, he leaves two sons, Tommy (I call him T6) and Ian, his daughter-in-law, Kelley, and a grandson not yet a year old, who carries his name into the seventh generation.

*****

Keep your eye on this site through August. As I trailed last month, signed QJ hardbacks are going to be available soon for direct purchase, hopefully within the next three weeks. There have been a couple of changes since last month, the main one being that the store will run as a separate enterprise, on its own website, accessible by a single click on the purchase button here. Hardbacks first, but the product range will expand very quickly.

At the same time, Graham Brown, my friend and IT guru, who got the whole thing off the ground, will be moving on to ‘fresh fields and postures new’, (as I am sure the late Margaret Duchess of Argyll never actually said, for all that Private Eye would have had us believe at the time). This means that we’ll be moving to a new host, and may be down for a couple of days, but any disturbance will be kept to a minimum.

*****

The feedback chums from July: (which, BTW, has passed with me locked up in Span working my ass off)

Chris Willows. Thanks Chris. I know it does; one of them is as I describe, but I don’t say that the others don’t exist. Stay avid!

Christine Fairbairn. Congratulations and watch this space.

GNG. That’s a damn silly question, I’m afraid. If I told you I’d be telling everybody else. Try reading it again, maybe?

Mark Reddy. Can’t wait myself, chum. I am, and yes, but I rarely look at it. I agree with Dave Cameron’s view of such sites.

Meg Gordon. Don’t be grudging, now. I’m not sure you’ll like Mr Blackstone, though. I don’t.

Jill Clements. Don’t let the title Fatal Last Words mislead you. They ain’t his.

Grant Hood. That’s a long story, my friend, but I’m very glad that it has a happy ending. I expect to be back at the Thursday fives in a couple of weeks, or three, if I can get tickets for Karine Polwart in North Berwick. I’d even miss the game to hear her sing.

David Hearty. The UK market’s moving in that direction. Eventually all the Skinner books will be that size, known in the trade as A format. If you want your collection to match . . .

David Richardson. If you haven’t started Aftershock yet, read Death’s Door first. I agree with you re Mike Connelly.

Stewart Smith. At first I thought you might be one of the local golf pros, but I see that he’s a namesake. You say you know some of the characters in my books? You must introduce me, because I don’t. Cheers. I’ve checked out your site, and I’m trying to work out whether you’re a gamekeeper turned poacher, or the other way round.

Emma O’Shaughnessy. Great name for a website run by a crime fan, (Dumfries, yes?) and you’re right, I always appreciate feedback. Thanks, and I’ll pass on your regards to Jim Bryce.

Sally Lucas. As it happens many of the Skinner books touch down in East Lothian, since that’s where Bob lives. I’ve kept Oz and Primavera off his doorstep though.

Jeanette Green. When you find a real Bob Skinner, please let me know; I may sign him up for telly. BTW, Bob’s had three of those also.

Martyn Snell. Then what? Primavera, I suggest. It’s quite a journey from Jasper Fforde to me and back again. Nice guy; I met him at a gig a few years ago.

Barry Clarke. I’ve dealt with these before, but thanks for that. I appreciate such comments, not least because they demonstrate the depth of the reader’s interest.

Joe Gilhooley. Of course these names are entirely co-incidental. The real Ian Reid is a Thursday night footballer, although he turns out even less frequently than me these days.

Maureen McRobb. I shouldn’t say this, but I will: bugger the housework!

Erin Montag. In fiction anything is possible. However, as things stand, at this moment, Oz is not hiding out on the Riviera or anywhere else; he is dead: mort: muerto. Sorry. By the way, if all goes well and to borrow my aunts favourite phrase, if I’m spared, looks like I’ll be in Canada in October: Toronto.

Maggi Morrison. I always reply, and I’m going to begin by thanking you sincerely for the nice things you wrote. Right. I note what you say about Primavera, and when your view becomes the majority, then probably I will stop. However at the moment, it’s a minority of one, according to the feedback I’ve been having from my wife, my girls, my female friends and women correspondents. As for your request, I don’t have the space to knock it down piece by piece, so here’s the deal. How about I don’t tell you how to massage heads?

Allan Mack. Only members are allowed to hack their way round Gullane 1, mate. I hope that the golfing facilities in Cyprus are to your liking. It must be wonderful to play with only a microscopic chance of walking from the course soaked in anything but sweat.

Andy Marshall. Yes. The answer to your other question is always the same: the next one.

Isabel Lee. FLW will be out in Canada very soon. But if you’re really in a hurry, check out this site mid-August, because overseas postage will be available.

Susan Flint. Big Bob’s pretty volatile; time will tell.

Marjorie Marson. Again, thank you very much. I’ve passed on your congratulations which were received humbly. He wishes he could grant you immunity from parking tickets, but sadly that’s beyond his powers.

Moe Munyon. You okay?

Adios

QJ