... feminist, atheist, autistic academic and historic narrowboater ...
Likes snooker, beer, tea, rivets and solitude, and is strangely fascinated by the cinema organ.
And there might be something about railways.

Thursday 31 August 2017

PD2 gallery

And now for something for those of us with... specialised... interests.
In the late 50s and early 60s around 70 boats were fitted with Petter PD2s. Just over 10% of those retain them (while a handful of others have subsequently had one fitted). And of these, a full four were at Alvecote. So I took the opportunity to photograph these (to be honest not very magnificent) beasts in their different habitats.

Cassopeia's is what I have always thought of as 'authentic' grey:
I was reassured during the parade that Chertsey's engine isn't actually all that smokey after all
Both Aldgate
and Darley
go for a more traditional dark green, with red embellishments - but only Darley has brass.

And finally, Chertsey, in its unusual 'muscat' green. The one we took out was grey; this one is, as far as I know, from Rufford, and restored by Steve Priest.
I wonder what other differences can be spotted.

Wednesday 30 August 2017


This was my first and favourite - Cotswold gin with Indian tonic. I think it was greatly improved by the fresh orange zest, and the big lump of cinnamon must have pushed the cost up (still well within the fiver charged though I'm sure). Such refinements were lost as the bar got busier. Others were less flavoursome - damson was quite nice. The worst one tasted like toilet cleaner, but that was probably the lemon tonic. All in all though I thoroughly enjoyed gin-sampling, and didn't get a hangover at all.

Tuesday 29 August 2017

Book buying

At Alvecote I always make a beeline first for the Chesterfield Canal Trust's stall. Apparently they had their most successful weekend ever there, and I'm pleased to say I made a contribution. As well as the long throw ally windlass and the (also ally) tiller bar for the PLs, I bought a few books - some good finds this time I think. First, a couple of classics which can be quite hard to find:
 This is the one I am most likely to read - in fact, I have already started. It must be admitted, however, that knowledgeable as Alan Faulkner is, his style could fairly be described as soporific. Or perhaps that is the sunject matter. Somehow all the drama of the planning and building of the canal is rendered in a very flat prose style.
This I thought was the rarer volume, although it cost me less (£3 to the Faulkner's £10). I'm not really the one who's interested in Rickies, other than the GU connection, but there are some fabulous photos in it.

Then I picked this one up for another £3
and have started to read it. So far it seems readable enough, though I might tire of the breathless reworking of various blue plaques and tourist information leaflets.

After buying these I leafed through the £1 box and couldn't resist this
in the light of Chertsey's connection with the restoration. It's a 1974 guide, complete with lovely dated adverts (including the ever-popular '"Gay" Cruisers' (their quotes)). I am fascinated and mystified by these spongey pads on the inside of the back cover:
No one on the stall knew what they were for. My best guess is that they were meant to provide some sort of non-slip quality for when you had the book open on the slide or cabin top. I've seen the material before somewhere but I can't place it.
It's synthetic, more fibrous than spongey really (although with a springy quality) and about 3mm thick. Any guesses - or knowledge - as to their purpose?

Monday 28 August 2017

Happy campers

It occurred to me about half way through the weekend that in going to Alvecote I subject myself to a simulacrum of an experience I had always thought I would avoid like the proverbial. The August Bank Holiday Long Weekend ay Alvecote is remarkably similar to how I have always imagined a holiday at Butlins. It is completely self contained; we do not set foot outside the bounds of the resort for the duration. Full English breakfast is served daily in the cavernous bar by very cheerful people. We sit around in the sun by the water, until it's time for the entertaining competitions with 'amusing' commentaries. Loud music is broadcast across the site through the day, and in the evening crooners sing loudly to backing tracks. There are also dances. You can eat three meals a day in the Barlow should you so wish. And so on. Truth to tell, it does all get a bit much after a while and after a couple of days I'm glad to get home. But next year I'll be ready to do it all over again - I'm fully converted to the delights of the gin bar and am looking forward to making that an annual tradition.

Seriously though, massive praise should go to Malcolm, Matt, Caz, Alison and all the rest of the crew who work non stop in the Barlow over the weekend and were still smiling this morning.

Sunday 27 August 2017

Sunning ourselves by the pool

It has been a splendidly hot bank holiday weekend so far - so much so that we are planning to leave early tomorrow so as not to be driving in the middle of the day. Unfortunately I have to be at work on Tuesday so we will have to miss out on Monday's events. Having said that though the weekend has been quite exhausting on the noise and socialising front so I'll be glad to get home for a rest.

Today has largely been spent sitting on the back end, soaking up the sun, and listening to rather than watching the parade. More boats took part today and apparently it got quite chaotic. I was pleased to hear that the commentary had fewer attempts at 'humour' than yesterday, particularly at the expense of innocent holidaying boats passing through, which I had thought was the sort of thing that gets historic boaters a bad name.

We had an unexpected dinner in the Barlow, as the Moomins surprised us having booked a table, but are now back packing up and preparing to leave in the morning... before setting off for a few more gins - ah yes, I forgot to mention the gin bar was a great success. I sampled four different ones, with a variety of tonics, and they were all discernible different. I hope to fit in a couple more tonight.

Saturday 26 August 2017

Watching the boats go by

Saturday, nine pm.

Day three at Alvecote began with a little light polishing, then breakfast in the Barlow. In previous years the boaters' breakfast was extremely set, with no exceptions and no substitutions, so we have got in the habit of taking a dish by which to transfer our eggs to Ricky. Both Jim and I are of the view that the only acceptable way of eating eggs is in a cake. This morning Ricky got some sausage too, as I was feeling generous. It was ten thirty by the time breakfast was over, and the sun was already warm. We had Ricky's shelter set up yesterday but at two metres wide it's a bit of a liability and so detrimental to the aesthetics of the boat that I feared we might be banished to the end of the marina with the cabin conversions. So this morning I improvised a more compact, Ricky sized, shelter using the fabric of the tent and the folding table. This was a great success and I shall share photos of it in due course. We took the opportunity to forage the Chesterfield Canal Trust's stall and came away with four books, a Walsh long throw windlass, and a new tiller for the Princess Lucys. (Lucies?)

After a light lunch (a mint magnum) we went over to visit the Moomins on Melaleuca. This was because they are moored on the towpath opposite the Barlow, in prime position for viewing the winding part of the boat parade. I wasn't going to parade for two reasons - one, I can't abide the 'amusing' commentary, and two, I couldn't face the thought of getting back onto the pontoon after. So we sat it out on Melaleuca's fore end and I tried out my new birthday 17-85mm lens. I can't tell you what the results were like until I get back and get the photos onto the big screen but I am sure there will be some to post.

After two and a half hours of parade we went back to the boat for some dinner containing actual vegetables, keeping the scurvy at bay for another day or two, and then found ourselves irresistibly drawn back to the bar, where I have been inveigled by mein host Malcolm into a boutique gin or three. I am currently sitting, slightly chilled (Ricky now has his blanket on) outside the Barlow eagerly anticipating the illuminated boat parade. And another gin.

Friday 25 August 2017

Friday at Alvecote

The post that went up this morning was actually Thursday's. Despite inserting the new 3 sim that I had left on the boat, and it showing a reasonable signal, it wouldn't actually load any websites or upload the post, so this morning I fell back on the EE midi that Jim had fortunately brought.

Today was a normal gathering day one - starting with polishing. The weather was lovely and sunny and by lunchtime was so hot we'd had to put up Ricky's shelter. The Moomins came over after lunch no we all went for a walk in the woods - I must research and write more about the Pooley Hall nature reserve - it really is excellent. Then we had an ice cream (again) on the way back and found ourselves sitting in the beer garden. So we bought a drink and thought we'd better sit there and keep a table until teatime... which we did, chatting with various people throughout the evening until it got a bit too dark and chilly.

There are four PD2s here of the (approx) eight or nine still in historic boats (out of 68-74 fitted) and tomorrow I intend to go and photograph them all - that's Chertsey, Cassopeia, Darley and Aldgate. There has been a suggestion that we should pool our knowledge and resources. Perhaps we should form a club!

Thursday 24 August 2017

Arriving at Alvecote

I'm not used to travelling the M1 on a weekday morning, so it was a relief when we eventually arrived at Alvecote around midday. First thing was to move the boat onto a pontoon so that Ricky could get on - a bit of a breeze had got up to ensure that this wouldn't be boring. Quite a lot of people were already here so we said a few hellos. Then we indulged ourselves with lunch in the Barlow before pumping out a massive amount of rainwater from the bilges. While this was going on, I started the polishing - but there's still plenty to be done tomorrow. I forgot to bring flowers for the cabin top, which I am kicking myself for - Tesco's do a relatively cheap bunch which matches Chertsey's paintwork nicely. After pumping out the bilge, we took Ricky for a lovely long walk in the woods, followed by an ice cream (for us, and a pig's ear for him). Not long after that Melaleuca arrived and now we are just back from a lovely curry night evening in the Barlow.

Wednesday 23 August 2017

Alvecote approaches

Tomorrow begins the final holiday of this (academic) year. It's not a cruising holiday as I had planned, and postponed, only to postpone again. But going to Alvecote for their weekend historic boat gathering cum beer festival will be a much needed break from working on the house (for Jim) and living amongst the inevitable chaos (for me). (As of tonight though I do have a fully functioning bathroom!). Being a historic narrow boater is certainly good preparation for living in a half finished house - although it's certainly more than half finished now. In fact, my bedroom, study and living room are pretty much complete; the kitchen is apart from the tiling and shelves, and now so is the bathroom apart from a bit of finishing off of paintwork and, again, shelves. The stairs are still to be painted and carpeted, but the biggest remaining job is the dining room, which as site office and workshop has been left until the very last.

Anyway, back to Alvecote. To get maximun value from the bank holiday weekend we're going up tomorrow, and tomorrow night, if their journey goes to plan, we should be enjoying a Samual Barlow curry with the Moomins. Then it'll be a case of getting Chertsey onto its weekend mooring and just chilling with a lot of brass polishing, walks in the woods and relaxing in the sun (well, it's forecast to be dry at any rate). And catching up with everyone we haven't seen since Braunston, of course - with a Barlow's breakfast every day and plenty of beer.

I shall take my big camera with its new lens that Jim bought me for my birthday, so hopefully I should come back with some nice photos.

Tuesday 22 August 2017

Basin' a post on sanitaryware

Today has been a significant milstone in the progress of The House. After four weeks of brushing my teeth in the bath, I almost have a bathroom basin. But not just any old basin. Well, an old basin, to be fair. Possibly a hundred years old - I haven't been able to date the mark, although I can state with confidence that it was made by Johnson Brothers of Hanley.
I have been hoarding this basin for many years. I think Jim got it at the Newhaven tip, although it might be the one we found at the chicken farm... Never, ever pass up the opportunity to acquire an old bit of sanitaryware. Jim cleaned it up ready to bring to Sheffield...
I thought we would have to build a cabinet and fit it into some worktop, which would have been a bit of a shame, but much better than not having it at all. But then at Braunston, on one of the small society stalls, I found some brackets - two pairs, in cast iron. They had originally had more, but they'd already sold. At £2 a pair I snapped up the last ones. The delay in fitting the basin was that the brackets needed a bit of grinding, and the grinder was in Newhaven. But here it now is:

The sharp eyed amongst you will notice that I will be brushing my teeth in the bath one more nights, as it's not quite plumbed in yet. This is because the wall is not vertical so the brackets need a tiny spacer at the back. But I am just delighted to see it nearly there.

A boit of a contrast to the previous one:

Monday 21 August 2017

Time to explore

Going on a six or eight mile walk at the weekend is all very well but I need to get back into the swing of a daily - or at least every-other-daily - fast walk (with a bit of running). I felt so much better for it when I got into the habit last year, and I was noticeably fitter when we were boating last summer. I has a nice little route mapped out from where I lived before - two  miles or so would take me out of the city, albeit still on a main road. I'd even got to the point where I could run a whole mile without stopping! And I would regularly fast walk six miles in an hour and a half, before breakfast. That's what I want to start doing again. It's hard to get started, but turns into time well spent.  I'd also bought myself a basic Garmin watch, so I could keep track of my times and distances. I lent that to Sebastian though, so as a substitute I've downloaded MapMyWalk. The downside is that I'll have to take my phone with me but as long as I'm walking and not running that won't be so bad. I've set myself a goal of twenty miles a week - which might be a bit tougher this week as I'm on leave from work, and a daily walk to work and back (by the more scenic route) adds up to twelve and a half miles a week. And we're off to Alvecote at the weekend (although I could get in some decent walking there).
Anyway, tomorrow I plan to get up early and set off to see where I get to.

Sunday 20 August 2017

Walkies again

This weekend my Ramblers group offered another suitable walk - actually on the short side, at six miles, but with some interesting terrain (and lots of mud) and lovely views over Ladybower reservoir from on high - and at lunchtime, from its shore.
The morning began surprisingly chilly, but the day warmed up, and it was mostly sunny and dry.
At lunchtime a flaw in Ricky's new harness revealed itself. All the time he's straining to get away - when passing sheep for example - it does a great job of keeping him under control. However, at lunchtime as he relaxed on the grass, I noticed just in time as his head slipped under the front of it and off it came! We accidentally hit on a good system in response to this though, with one end of the lead clipped to his collar and the other to the harness. In future the old (and cheaper!) x-shaped harness - which I think it is technically impossible to get out of without unclipping - will come out again!

Thursday 17 August 2017

EE ba gum

The most stressful thing about moving is dealing with the utilities. I hate dealing with utilities. I hate using the phone, and I cannot stand dealing with call centres. I just can't do it.
I had EE broadband before I moved, and had been very happy with it. I went online and completed the requisite details for moving, which seemed pretty straightforward. OK, it took a fortnight, which I was a bit pissed off about - if I'd known that I'd have done it sooner. But still, confident that in two weeks my phone socket would magically come to life I sat back to wait, relying on Jim's mifi in the interim. Just before the two weeks was up, I got an email from EE. 'We would like to talk to you regarding your Broadband and Landline services', it said. 'Please call 0800 0790 283 as further information is required regarding your account with us.' Naturally I replied to the email, saying I don't use the phone, please can you ask your questions by email. That was five days ago, and naturally I have heard nothing since. Meanwhile, Jim's mifi data has run out (6 gb in a month; how?) until tomorrow so I am writing this at work.
That is as nothing however compared to my experience with Extra Energy, whose gas and electricity 'services' I inherited with the house. No, I had never heard of them either. I went online, set up an account, and sent them meter readings. I didn't get a bill, but I got a threatening letter saying I hadn't paid the bill. So I emailed them some more meter readings. The emailed back saying they couldn't deal with it as I had used a different email account from the one I had registered with them. OK, that sort of makes sense. But they said, could I phone them instead. So if someone pretending to be me had emailed from a different email account, that's something they are absolutely security conscious about; but anyone could phone pretending to be me and that would be fine. Also, as per my previous gripe about CRT, the only thing this imaginary imposter could do would be to pay my bill, so that doesn't seem such a massive security threat. I have now established some sort of email correspondence with them, albeit with massive time lags on their part, but that hasn't stopped them sending me another threatening letter yesterday. Now, I want to pay the bill (the sooner I can, the sooner I can find another supplier) - but I want to pay an actual bill, not their wild guesswork. I've given them the information - and updated it twice - but so far all I've had is one grossly over-estimated bill, in between the two threatening letters. Meanwhile the letter-sending-out machine seems to have no idea what the emailers are doing. 
Worst of all, the threatening letters only provide a phone number - no email; no postal address (just a tiny head office address hidden at the bottom). I told the email people that I don't use the phone because of a disability (!) and they fell over themselves to assure me how seriously they take this. Yeah, right.
On the other hand, a highly commended for Yorkshire Water, who have dealt with everything smoothly and by post, including a very nice, clear and friendly letter explaining why I couldn't pay quarterly like I did before (because I don't have a meter at the house! Baths all round!)

Tuesday 15 August 2017

When does an adjective become an identity?

This is a Rivetcounter post really, and I will post it there too for what that's worth. It's too early to say whether Rivetcounter will finally take off but my thoughts have been turning to autism matters aagain lately.

Since getting my assessment over eighteen months ago now I've just been quietly getting on with being Aspie, not thinking about it a lot of the time; forgetting it sometimes. After all, I haven't changed; my life hasn't changed - I just acquired a label, a description, an explanation (of sorts) for what that life feels like. It's still the only one I know, and it still feels normal to me - because it is normal for me. The most interesting thing is getting an insight into how other people are different from me, which I never really appreciated before.

One of the things I've been doing is looking into setting up an autism network at work - and I'd particularly like to have a network for autistic women - partially because our experience is often different, and partly so as not to be totally outnumbered by men from the computing service... In the course of this I met up with the author of this blog, and then I read this post, and it got me thinking.

I've dipped into a few autism blogs, but (as you may know) I don't do Twitter or Facebook, and I'm not really that au fait with the world of autism activism - perhaps I have all that to come. But I've long been quite interested in the idea of identity politics, primarily because I don't really get it. So it seems to me ironic that autistic people should be arguing whether being autistic constitutes their identity, or is seen to, and whether this is a good or a bad thing.

From the start, I felt most comfortable saying that 'I am autistic' - even better, because I think (hope) it gives a more accurate impression, 'I am Aspie' - and wishing there was a more 'official' adjective for that. I much prefer this to saying 'I have autism', or 'I have Asperger's Syndrome', or 'I am a woman with autism' - or even worse 'I have an autism spectrum condition', or worst of all, 'I have an autism spectrum disorder'. Because having someting, even something as neutral-sounding as a 'condition', still - to me at least - implies a pathology.

But when I say 'I am autistic', or 'I am Aspie', I am not asserting an identity, or defining myself. I am not an autistic; I am not an Aspie. I am applying an adjective. It describes an aspect of me (the way my brain works) in the same way that other adjectives like brunette, right-handed, or ticklish, describe other aspects of me. But when I say I am female, white, heterosexual, to me those are still just adjectives. Feminist, liberal, atheist. Even English. To me these are all just adjectives. They describe me but they do not define me. But to many people at least some of these categories of description would constitute their identity, or at least an important part of it.

And I had the feeling that it was perhaps a particularly autistic perspective to see things like this; to not be happy with - or able to - adopt any identity other than 'I am me' - and not really knowing what that is, from day to day.  Which is why the idea of autistic identity politics feels contradictory.

However, as I think about it - and I'm going to start rambling now - I begin to see how an off-the-shelf identity could actually be especially attractive to someone who has always struggled to define themself and find their place in the world, and that the perspective I've set out above is that of a mature and relatively confident woman. The me of thirty years ago might well have felt - in a way she probably couldn't have articulated - quite different.

So the answer will no doubt be different for different people for all sorts of different reasons - but it's still an interesting question. When does an adjective become an identity?

Monday 14 August 2017

Celebrating with relish

When I moved to Sheffield in the autumn of 2012, the crew of Warrior welcomed me with a bottle of the local delicacy, Henderson's Relish. I'd already experienced it, on a meat and potato pie (with peas) that Linda brought to Langley Mill a year previously, so I knew that it was both tasty and versatile - whether on chips (or peas) or in a stew - and also vegan. The bottle they bought me was a special commemorative one, celebrating local lass Jessica Ennis' 2012 Olympic gold medal.
So... ahem... Nearly five years later, in a lentil stew last night, I finished my first bottle of Hendos. It's top of the shopping list to replenish - but it is a little embarrassing that it's taken me that long.

I know there are at least two other Sheffield residents who read this blog... How long does a bottle of Hendo's last you?

Sunday 13 August 2017

Day release

Work on the house has been pretty relentless, especially for Jim, so today we took advantage of the perfect weather for a walk in the Peak. It was an eight mile walk, with my Ramblers group, taking in Froggatt, Curbar and White Edges. I like the gritstone
of the Dark Peak a lot better than the limestone of the White - I like the dramatic and sometimes bleak scenery, and even more, I like the fact that it's not slippery! There was nothing bleak about it today though with the heather
in full flower and the distant hills all shades of purple,
and the quartz in the grit sparkling in the sun. It was a popular walk with 26 people signed up. Ricky came along and seemed to enjoy himself.
He has a new harness which we bought him yesterday, which has a sort of grab handle on the top. (Shown most clearly in the second photo.) We thought this would be useful when boating, if he were ever to fall in (perish the thought!) but it proved itself today as well for keeping him under close control when passing sheep and, especially, cows, of which there were quite a few, and some rather belligerent examples.
The weather was perfect, mainly sunny but not too hot.

Monday 7 August 2017

Developments in the fireplace

You may recall that I was initially very pleased that the shape of the front room fireplace so neatly mirrored that of a Lily stove:
However. There's always a however, isn't there. Because the hearth isn't flat, indeed, isn't even all there - see that gap on the right?
You can see all the way down into the cellar... So Jim decided that the thing to do is to get a sheet of steel cut to fit into the fireplace and extend out to fill the space within the fender which has now come up from Sussex. But working out the angles and the measurements of the definitely asymmetrical trapezium-plus-oblong combo proved too much, so it was decided to take the wing walls (for so they appear to me) out after all. A few minutes work with the bolster and a nice clear rectangular space materialised.
To be fair, this probably does look nicer. I would like ultimately to tile the inside, to provide a light coloured but cleanable background to the purple stove. Next we're going to get someone to come and check out that the flue is as viable as it looks - if not, I'll just have the stove as an ornament, but if it is, it'll be worth going to the trouble of getting a pipe (and adapter) made and plumbing it in.
The presence of this liner protruding down the chimney (I thought I'd rotated that photo!) gives me hope...

Saturday 5 August 2017

A bit steep

When I first moved to Sheffield, I wondered why my legs ached so much. I's just spent nearly a year living on a boat, walking three miles to the shops and back most days... along the towpath. After a couple of weeks I twigged - Sheffield is very hilly. It's hard to walk any distance at all within the city without going up or down a noticeable hill - and usually both.

I fairly quickly got used to the terrain in Broomhill (clue's in the name!), where it as steadily downhill all the way to work, the city centre shops, or the station. So if I was going to the station or the shops, I'd walk down and get the 51 bus back.

It's not so simple down here in Walkley. It's actually a bit nearer work, but with a lot more hill in between. The last leg of the return journey is the most challenging bit. But just how challenging I only discovered yesterday. Apparently I live one street away from what is quite possibly the third steepest residential street in Britain, and approximately half of it is betwween me and work, and me and Tescos.
What's more, I think it's the steeper half! The BBC/OS figures are an average for the entire length of each street.

The view from the top is a pretty impressive vista of Sheffield.

Whilst that from the bottom is just somewhat daunting.

When it snows, I'll be staying indoors for the duration.

Thursday 3 August 2017

Blossom's back!

I recently weeded out my old boat blogroll, and removed anyone who hadn't posted for a year (sadly quite a high proportion, leaving just four stalwarts - all of whom are flagging a bit. One of those culled was Darley. But a chance glance down Halfie's comprehensive blogroll recently revealed that Blossom is back! His excuse for not posting is that he's been boating - pah! Someone had better catch him and train him up in the dark arts of mobile blogging (not me, I fear, as I still can't post photos from the iPad).

I really do hope you keep it up Blossom - always love reading about your exploits, past and present - here's to the future ones. And you're back on the blogroll!

Tuesday 1 August 2017

Books I read in July

Sophie Hannah The Carrier (Gongoozler Cafe bookswap/sale)
There was a whole collection of Sophie Hannah here but I'd read all the others. I find her always gripping and readable, but sometimes a little far fetched - this one was even better for being reasonably credible. I always forget the strange and complex detective pairing who get to grips with Hannah's mysteries, and it's a treat to rediscover them.

John Grindrod Outskirts: Living Life on the Edge of the Green Belt (new, Amazon)
Bought this on the recommendation of Diamond Geezer, and because I really enjoyed Grindrod's Concretopia. This was disappointing; the combination of history and memoir seemed disjointed and it never really gelled into a single whole.

Kate McCabe The Love of Her Life (local library random pick)
An everyday saga of love and loss, conveyed with all the drama, passion and humanity of a shopping list. Less, probably.

Edward Marston Steps to the Gallows (local library random pick)
Plodding early nineteenth century police procedural. I had only a few pages left to read when I went away last week, but never bothered picking it up on my return.

Peter Robinson When the Music's Over (WH Smith, New Street station)
Robinson's Alan Banks is one of those policemen who definitely ages at about a third the rate of the rest of us. Robinson however seems to have acquired more than a touch of the PD James in his latter years - this story is didactic and laden with heavy handed contemporary relevance.

Helen Fielding Bridget Jones's Baby (local library random pick)
It doesn't matter what the genre is, quality is quality. Good stuff.

Lisa Scottoline Most Wanted (local library random pick)
American, surprisingly gripping thriller let down by a predictably saccharine ending.

Nicholas Searle The Good Liar (local library random pick)
Intriguing and apparently (but only apparently) rambling emotional thriller with twist upon twist.

Grahan Masterton White Bones (local library)
Police detectives in Cork this time. Decent characters, slightly far fetched plot, and enjoyably fluent - only marred in this edition by being translated into American. It turned out I'd read this one before, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't full of Travelers and cellphones then.

Graham Masterton  Blood Sisters (local library)
Not in American this time, thank goodness. All the above still holds.