lizziekillin.bsky.social - Profile | ThreadSky | a Reddit-style client for Bluesky

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A lovely sunny swim 3C #iceswimmer

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Monday February 27 1854 The office door creaked open. "Mr Death!" I cried. "Come in, sir, come in." "It's de Ath," the cadaverous old gentleman corrected me, flashing me a warm smile. "Of course. Now how may I be of help?" "If you're free tomorrow, I'd be glad of your company." My blood froze!

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Another one done #loveajigsaw

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Sunday February 26, 1854. To church in Camden. Pleased to report that Annie's good humour is quite restored. Got caught in a shower along the tow path on my way home. Spent the afternoon drying my clothes in front of the stove.

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That took a while #loveajigsaw

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Good rehearsal with @sellyparksingers.co.uk last night, these three movements coming along nicely. So if you’re around the Midlands in June, perhaps make a note in your diary now? Concert: Sat 14 June 2025 at 3pm in St Francis Bournville. The Birmingham premiere of this piece! More details soon. 😎

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Saturday February 25 1854. Mr Carney's fish stall on Old Street was heaving with customers when I arrived. He'd purchased a barrel of pilchards and was selling them cheap. It was nearly 3 before he let my brother go for his break. "I would kill for a hot potato," Julius confessed.

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Friday February 24, 1854. "Dear Lady Braithewaite," I wrote in my finest hand. "I am writing to inquire if you have received any news of that most refined of dogs, your dearest Trudy. A ransom note perhaps?" I chuckled to myself as I signed my name at the bottom.

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Thursday February 23, 1854. "We haven't had a murder for a while," said George. He stood looking out the window with his hands dug into his pockets. I paused, dip pen in hand, and asked him if he missed such grisly affairs. "No," he said. "Well maybe a bit. I guess they're exciting." I smiled.

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Wednesday February 22, 1854. "So it was the servants who used to let Mr Tibbles out," mused George, once again stroking the cat on his lap, "as often as we caught him and brought him back." "Will Trudy be happy, do think?" I asked. "Reckon so, now that they've changed her name to Flossie."

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Monday February 20, 1854. "The mistress says you wanted to speak to me again." "It's Rose, is it not?" The nervous young woman nodded. "Well, Rose, we know all the servants are lying. There was no masked man." "But we all saw him!" "You ALL saw him...and did nothing?" She blushed.

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My noodles are nippy! east wind, hail and 3C water #iceswimmer

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Sunday February 19, 1854. "Miss, I have a small gift for you." I trembled as I handed Annie what Florrie had chosen for me, a card with pressed dried flowers. An iris, a pink camellia, white clover, and a fern leaf. "I love it," she said, though I myself thought it a poor sort of present.

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Saturday February 18, 1854. "Do you think she's been stolen?" George asked. We'd interviewed the servants and they'd all told the same story, word for word, how Trudy had been snatched by a masked man as she played in the backyard. "Of course not. Word for word? It's a conspiracy!"

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Friday February 17, 1854. "Is that my cat?" Lady Braithewaite looked down her long nose at me and then eyed Mr Tibbles some more. "There is a passing resemblance, I admit," I replied. "Now tell me about your poor Trudy. She's run off again, I take it?" "Certainly not! She has been stolen!"

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He is so cute 😍 Redheaded Weaver

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Nippy Noodles 3C #iceswimming

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Thursday February 16 1854. "Will Bertha give them back?" George inquired as he stroked the cat on his lap. "The rubies? I very much doubt it!" "Oh. Then will she reimburse us for our time?" "I could ask her." I smiled. It occurred to me that George had come a very long way under my instruction.

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Wednesday February 15 1854. "The rubies are missing again?" The manservant they'd sent to engage our services shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "Please inform your employer that in my expert opinion they have only been mislaid." He flinched. "Is that your final word?" he asked. "Indeed."

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Tuesday February 14, 1854. Valentine's Day. Today's visit to Bertha not only allowed me to ascertain the success of last night's daring ruby heist, I also got to quiz Florrie, the manager of Bertha's flower stall, about my gift to Annie. "You gave her WHAT?" She howled at me with laughter.

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Nippy Noodles swim 3C. Very choppy, air temp had a freezing wind chill #iceswimmer

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Monday February 13, 1854. "THEY WHAT?" I screeched. "They're refusing to pay for the return of their rubies," said George. "They claim they only mislaid them." "Do they indeed?" I rose and donned my coat. "Where are you going?" he asked. "To visit a mutual friend of ours!"

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Sunday February 12, 1854. Annie nodded politely but kept her distance at church this morning, causing me to regret even further what I now realize was last week's most indelicate inquiry. Who can I turn to for advice, I wonder?

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Saturday February 11, 1954. Another Saturday free from spying on butlers and light-fingered maidservants. I took some wrinkly apples to feed to the narrow boat ponies along the canal path, dodging the odd shower or two by sheltering under the bridge.

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Friday February 10, 1854. A few quick queries to the major fences led me to the tradesman and his brother-in-law at their Islington lodgings. Amateurs both, they had only heard whispers of a person named Bertha. "She won't allow you to sell the rubies," I told them. "You'd do best to return them."

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Thursday February 9, 1854. "The tradesman only pretended to shut the door behind him," I explained to George, "which left his accomplice free to enter once they'd entered the coal cellar." "I know," huffed George. "It was me what played the accomplice and left the note!"

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Wednesday February 8, 1854. I needed to test my theory. I knocked at the servants' entrance (as the tradesman had done), and pulled the door shut behind us when the manservant stepped out to show me over to the coal cellar. 1/2

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Tuesday February 7, 1854. "You think it was this tradesman?" asked George. "I think he is significant," I replied. "Significant how?" "If I'm right, he, not the manservant, pulled the outer door shut when they stepped outside." 1/2

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Monday February 6, 1854. A new case! "Did anything odd occur before this mysterious robbery?" The manservant pondered my question. "A tradesman called, requesting access to the coal cellar. But it couldn't be him; he never re-entered the house." "Yet the rubies vanished soon after..." Hmmm.

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Nippy Noodles 2C swim #iceswimming

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Sunday February 5, 1854. To church in Camden. I regret to say I asked Annie outright if she'd started on Guy's Compendium of Practical Detection, the gift I gave her for Christmas. "Oh look," she mumbled, "there is my sister-in-law, Mary. I must have a word with her before she goes."

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How can this photo not make you smile? It fell out of a book on Monday when I was arranging the wall of books at my exhibition. So it must have been travelling around the country - on show but unseen - for 7 years now! But who are you, little fella? I hope you’re still smiling

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Saturday February 4, 1854. I made my way to the fish stall on Old Street where my brother works. His dog, Tricky, was pleased to see me, possibly because Julius was so busy filleting fish. She ran circles around my feet while the crowd gasped in amazement.

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Friday February 3, 1854. Mr Tibbles licked his paws, having completed all his dinnertime rounds. "So the dog went back to her?" George remarked, watching the cat's ablutions. "She did, more fool her." George sniffed. "What's the bet she don't stay long?"

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Nippy noodles swim 3C #iceswimming 🥶

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Thursday February 2, 1854. "Miss," I began, "I regret to inform you we found your poor Trudy's body lying lifeless in the street." "Really?" she said, turning to retrieve something from the floor behind her. She hoisted the dog up in the air in triumph. "Clearly she must have revived," I said.

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Wednesday February 1, 1854. "No wonder Mr Tibbles used to run off. That woman is implacable!" George frowned. "She don't collect plaques?" I ignored this and continued with my train of thought: "Poor Trudy is much better off without her. What if we tell her Trudy died in an accident?"

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Monday January 30, 1854. "Is this your missing dog, miss?" The canine in question growled and snapped at me as I held her by her collar. "Most certainly not! My Trudy is not a coarse dog; she is refined!" "Ah." I let go of the collar and the dog scampered away. "Sorry, miss."

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Tuesday January 31, 1854. "Is this your Trudy, miss?" Mr Tibbles's former owner looked down her long nose at me. "Does it look like my Trudy?" she asked haughtily. "I'm not sure what your dog looks like, miss. I've never seen her before." "Are you being impertinent, young man?" "No..."

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Here's something. Most trad publishers require their relevant authors to provide a line of blurb for any book they promote. For me, ACTUAL readers' quotes were the only tool available to me to publicize my books. It started on LibraryThing (see the video) and then took on its own life on Twitter.

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sunny swim 3C

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Accismus [ak-SIZ-muhs] (n.) - A feigned lack of interest in or refusal of something while actually desiring it earnestly. - A false refusal; coyness. Sentence: “With obvious accismus, Verbena sighed, ‘Oh, I suppose I can take one for the team and eat that last cookie… if no one else wants it.”

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