Samain. All Saints Eve. Hallowe’en. A night to be wary of, a short moment in time when the thin veil that separates the living from the dead can be breached, when restless souls wander the dark in search a new abode. Well, assuming you believe in stuff like that, right? I’m not sure I do.
Today is a first for me. So far, everything posted on this blog has been written by yours truly, but today I’ve thrown my doors wide to Ms Alison Morton, author of the alternative history books Inceptio and Perfiditas (just released). These books are set in a Roman Empire that survived its downfall, and interestingly
My husband’s family has a coat of arms. His family goes back for yonks, and he can count both the Stuarts of Scotland and the Vasas of Sweden among his ancestors. Not sure the Vasa strain is all that much to brag about, given that his family is related to Erik XIV of Sweden, a
“On argent background, a lion – nope, a beaver – rampant” Read More »
A pivotal role in my third book, The Prodigal Son, is played by Sandy Peden, the charismatic minister that has Matthew Graham risking life and limbs by his steadfast support of the Covenanter cause. While Matthew is a purely fictional character, Sandy Peden is not – and anyone familiar with the history of the Covenanters and
With the vocation of being a burr up the English backside Read More »
One of my favourite historical persons is St Teresa de Jesus (or St Teresa de Avila as she is also known). I would actually go as far as to say this lady is my favourite saint – but that may of course be because she is one of the few saints I have found interesting
Today, I woke to my husband’s warm arms around me. That was nice. After what seemed only a moment, he told me we had to get moving. That was not so nice. It was Saturday, and after a whole week of early mornings, I felt entitled to a lie-in. My protests fell on deaf ears.
We all have our particular favourites among historical people. Quite often, the people we idolise will be vilified by others – history, just like pretty much everything in life, is a matter of perception and opinion. After all, none of us knew the people who took central stage during the preceding centuries. (Well; I would
When we came up to our country house this weekend, the apples were gone. Puts väck, as one says in Swedish. Where only last week our two apple trees had bowed under the weight of the as yet unripe but beautiful winter apples, now they stood denuded, not as much as a single apple on
Today, I thought I’d write something about the fishier aspects of Dutch history. I like the Dutch, I suspect I may be genetically predisposed to do so, seeing as my mother had a most romantic fling with a tall (they’re always so tall, these modern Dutchmen) Dutchman called Hank. And then, of course, there’s the
… I write. What I mean is that when it no longer suffices to sit and dream about travelling to other times, other places, I write about them instead. A most economical and safe form of time travel. When I was a child, I ran around with a wooden shield and sword, pretending to be