In the club

Phil: While it’s important to research your writing, it’s not easy to gain entry to everywhere you need to write about, so I was pleased recently to find out that we’d got our guesswork right.

Early in our book, there is a scene that takes place in a club. Not the sort of club la Nolan goes to boogie to phat beats by Chaka Demus & Pliers, but a proper Gentleman’s club. The sort with fine dining and comfortable furniture dating back to the middle ages.

A few weeks ago, I was invited to a business lunch to discuss a new project. The man who set it up works in the City of London and it appears, does this sort of thing all the time. Very nice.

When I mentioned this to Candice by e-mail, the response asked a question that hadn’t crossed my mind.

OMG. What are you going to wear?

Hmmm. Well, I’d sort of got it in mind I’d wear my nice interview jacket from Next, black trousers and shoes and a shirt.

We then proceeded to have a discussion where I learned that I might not actually be suitably attired for such an occasion. It didn’t help that the dress code according to the website was “city smart casual” which means nothing to me. A dark jacket, or better still a suit would have been better, “as long as it’s not too old”. Too old? Why does that matter? Something to do with style apparently. I don’t have it but was ominously told that “anyone can be styled”.

Anyway, out of the three of us at the lunch, I was the second smartest which was fine. The scruffiest, wearing all the right clothes but looking rumpled, was the guy who was a member so obviously it didn’t matter that much. Having said this, the people at the other tables were pretty uniformly dressed in black or dark grey suits.

The club itself was very nice. In The Book, we describe wood panelling and leather chairs and that’s pretty much what I got. Service was discrete but polite with the members name being remembered as well as the (presumably) good red wine he favoured, a bottle of which was proffered within a few minutes of arrival.

Basically, I can see why Gareth would like it and how Kate would feel like a fish out of water. Lunch lasted three hours for a start and could be described as “convivial” even a bit old-fashioned. If you are a go-getting young business woman, learning to slow down and get the best out of it will be a challenge. At least, unlike Kate, I didn’t need to nip off to the loo to jot down notes in case the alcohol dulled my memory. Mind you, if I had, the loos were very nice as well.

Anyway, last week, I described this to Candice and mentioned that I’d brought back a souvenir. I meant a postcard from the club advertising the facilities, not a nipple tassel as she suggested.

What sort of place does she think I frequent?

Running on Caffeine and Sugar

Candice: I’ve had a hell of week, starting off with a drive to Hull which I thought would never end and ending up with a trip in an Ambulance to A&E for me and the little one. She’s fine but it was a bit of a shock.

So I come to Friday, before three days off work next week, and am playing catch up. This week, and with the dark days too, I think I’ve been running on adrenaline, caffeine and sugar.

I’ve got a stinking cold to, so there was I supping tea and taking a cold and flu tablet this morning (active ingredient, Caffeine) and I though, need to  be careful here Nolan.

What did we do before stimulants?  A few years ago I worked out that my regular stomach problems are related to too much caffeine, so I cut it out.  The terrible headaches and other effects of going cold turkey made me realise that it is not a good thing to be reliant on.

However, recently I seem to have become more reliant on it again, which I initially put down to new job.  But actually I’ve worked out I probably always do in the darker months, as I get a level of SAD.

So, I’m not going to beat myself up about it, but as long as I don’t end up looking like the side of a house, and getting the jitters, I’ll keep eating the sugar and taking the caffeine until the world gets a bit brighter.

Don’t wanna go to BAFTA

Phil: On Sunday I returned from a busy weekend, tired but not enough to go straight to bed. I flicked on the TV hoping to find something mildly diverting that would entertain me without engaging my brain.

What I got was the BAFTAs.

I’m not a fan of awards ceremonies. They normally seem to be a large group of people who earn far too much for what they do spending an evening congratulating each other on being marvellous and allowing us serfs to look on in awe and wonder.

Too stunned to operate the remote control, I watched for a few minutes and realised something else. It looks really, really boring.

If you don’t stand a chance of winning anything then you spend the evening watching people who do. Looking at the number crowded in there, I bet the winners were less than 1% of the attendees.

At this point, I decided I didn’t want to go and sent Candice the tweet above.

It seems she does.

This might not be the problem you might expect. For a start, there are 26 awards and it’s reasonable to think that the film of The Book will sweep the lot. If the table is at the back of the room, that’s an awful lot of walking back and forth and my friend is far fitter than I am. She might need to wear trainers under the big frock of course.

The main issue is that no-one wants me there.

Look at this photo of Eddie Redmayne and his co-star in “The Theory of Everything”, Felicity Jones. As you can see, she is holding the trophy. The only problem is that it’s HIS trophy. She was a runner up and didn’t get one.

The press though, have decided that the person holding the gong should be the pretty one, even if it is rubbing her defeat in her face.

Conclusion: Because all the blokes wear dinner jackets and can’t be poured over by fashionistas who will decide if their outfit is “a disaster” (fashion journalism, your name is hyperbole) they aren’t really important and might as well go down the pub or watch the thing sat on a sofa with a bag of crisps.

Which suits me fine.

You don’t understand being famous

Phil: This is the first blog post I’ve written whilst wearing a new pair of glasses. It’s very exciting.

We’ve discussed my deep joy at having to find a new pair of glasses on here before. It’s a reflection of the time we’ve been writing this blog that I’m changing them yet again. Another opportunity to pick a major facial feature. One that I only half got right as purely by chance my “everyday” pair turned out to be identical to the last design I’d picked a couple of years ago. Mind you, the ones in the photo are my “high days and holidays” pair so calm yourselves ladies…

Anyway, this time, there is an extra consideration. After my Aussie trip I’d wondered if some sunglasses might be a good idea. Then an advert planted the idea that some reactor lights lenses that automatically change would be a good idea. I love a bit of technology and don’t relish carrying glasses, a spare pare of glasses AND sunglasses around.

Fortunately, I discussed the idea with the optician and we hit a snag. You see, when I’m in the studio filming for a DVD, the bright lights in there will set off the lenses so I’ll be facing the camera looking a bit like Bono and no-one wants that.

How did being a celebrity become so difficult? Will there be other things like this to trip us up in our inexorable rise to A-list status?

You can laugh but just remember, when you watch Nativity on BBC2 Saturday December 20th at 4.45pm, La Nolan didn’t dominate the scene with Pam Ferris and the chocolate fountain without some serious hair dressing!

Fashion for the gentleman writer

Phil: If we want to make a big splash in the publishing world then we need an image. Or to be more specific, I need an image. Candice has fashion sense and knows what looks good. I don’t, so some inspiration is required.

Last night it arrived.

Watching a documentary on the 1970’s there was a writer. OK, a fictional writer but a writer nonetheless. He was considered dapper and a real style icon. Best of all, when not writing massively succesful adventure stories, he was a secret agent and wow with the ladies. Wikipedia describes him as a “dilettante dandy” A perfect match for me !

I am of course referring to Jason King, late of Department S.

I recon I could do the cravat thing. With a bit of luck I’ll not look too Nicholas Parsons, not that this is a bad thing. The moustache might take a bit of time but a falsie would do the job for the moment. I need more hair, or perhaps a wig. Thinking about it, that would be a good idea then I could go incognito when required and escape the paparazzi.

As with all plans, there are downsides. In common with most people in the 1970’s, King smoked, but at least he smoked a pipe. I’ve never been tempted but if I was I think pipe smoking would suit me. There’s lots of work involved with cleaning and packing the thing. Best of all you get to say you are nipping in to your favorite tabaconists for a good rough shag.

King’s outfits were many and varied. So varied in fact, that I could turn out to be the colourful one in this partnership and probably need to the bigger trunk to carry the clothing on tour. Something tells me that isn’t going to go down too well !

The return of the peplum

Candice: Nearly a year ago to the day, Phil wrote a post about not understanding the women’s clothing and particularly being stuck by a “peplum frill”

Now, at the time of writing, a peplum was something that was a severe throw back to the 80’s.  Think shoulder pads, big hair and mobile phones that needed their own carry case.  However,as is the way with the world of fashion, I open my weekly copy of Grazia magazine and find the peplum has returned.  A quick look round the shops and I can see them everywhere.  Slightly less pronounced than last time as they no longer are accompanied by those massive shoulder pads but still there.

So now comes a quandry.  The peplum was a sarcastic decription on the style of one of the characters, and a way of defining her so that readers could just jump in and see what she was really like.  But, nearly two years since conception, suddenly a style tip which made someone seem abit backwards is now making her the height of fashion.

This is must be a common problem with authors, as the wheels of publishing move slowly.  Referencing current events can date things  as politics, fashion, music etc all change so quickly.  What do authors do – not reference things so current but lose the strength of their story, or keep in the reference and rely on that fact it will be set in one place and time.

I’m loathed to take my peplum description out.  Hopefully with the addition of blue eye shadow, the soundtrack to “The Breakfast Club” and the peplum being a on a shiny pastel suit it will help to keep our character stuck in time.

But hang on, what’s this in Grazia, “Blue eye shadow on the return…”  ARGH!

Oh what shall I wear?

Candice:  As my writing partner has pointed out, he’s not really a christmas party man. However, I like some shape throwing and love the concept of Christmas, so I’m kinda in my element.  (Do the expressions “chalk and cheese” come to mind – though I think it’s the contrast with having the same stupid sense of humour that makes the writing work).

Anyway, a key part of the whole process is the outfit.  Every year I say to myself, I’ll just get one of my old numbers out and that will be fine.

But as the day approaches I realise I’m bored out of my mind with that dress I wore twice last year, so have to have something new.

Where I am working at the moment, the shopping is poor.  This leads to mad sessions on the internet when I get home, ordering stuff from websites.  The other half has been at home so he’s chief receiver of my many parcels (to the point I got a, “You’ve ordered alot of new clothes recently” to which I sweetly replied, “But they’ve mostly gone back.” Flutter eyelashes)  Debenhams sent me five different dresses in three different parcels for a mad trying on session the night before the event.

I’m not alone in this though.  We went to a ball on Thursday and I had panicked call from the sister, saying can I come around to assess her new purchases as she’d had a last minute internet moment too.  Lucky Debenhams is all I can say!

So I might like the whole party concept but the reality it is just as stressful for me, in a whole different way.

Don’t even get me on shoes and accessories.

Ah well, at least this year I came up with a corker.  Though my facebook photos are going to look abit samie as I’m going to three events, all with different people, so I can reasonably wear it to all three.  Or maybe not…..  asos where are you!

What do you call a posh bird ?

Olivia Trumpington-Thomas was best described as “Good Country Stock”. Her passion was for breeding cattle. Belgian Blue’s were her favourites – although some had cruelly have suggested that the breeds square set stance and stocky features were not that different from their owner. She hadn’t really wanted to marry but her father had said that it was her duty so the task was set about with the same efficiency that she used when choosing sires for her livestock. The list of requirements was short, good temperament, reasonable features and respectable family lineage.

Phil: Olivia is the anti-Kate in our world. Everything Kate is, she isn’t. One loves the country, the other can’t stand the idea of mud on her shoes.

She doesn’t play a large part in our book at present, her first meeting (and mating) with Gareth was edited out as holding up the early part of the story despite being very funny. However, she does still pop up occasionally, mainly to help define Gareth for the reader.  The only problem is her name. You see we also have a character called Olive – who does play a big part in the tale. Neither of us had spotted the similarity between the two names but a couple of the test readers did and found it a touch confusing.

In our heads, there are very different people. We see them different and never confused them but if this book is going to be read by more than a small circle then these things need sorting out. Therefore Olivia needs a new name.

But what should it be ? We’ve bashed ideas around over tea and cake but can’t settle on one that seems right. It needs to be short, ruling out Jocasta or Arabella, the two poshest names I could come up with. The name must have gravitas and age too, Chelsea is too modern and to be honest, too chavy.

The Trumpington-Thomases are a very old family. They doubtless consider the Queen an icon but perhaps a little too German. After all, they can trace their lineage back many generations before her lot pitched up on our shores. They have a family pew in the local church and sit there every Sunday safe in the knowledge that their relatives are beneath them in the family crypt.

These are people who don’t consider fashion. Their gel will be called something traditional. She will live in a world of livestock, sensible shoes, voting Tory, tweed, titles, leaky old houses, aged Land Rovers and wax jackets that might come from Barbour, but because they last for years rather than trendiness. Years ago, she might have been a debutant but not one of the really pretty ones. Tom Sharpe fans should think Lady Maud rather than Pippa Middleton.

Anyway, you get the idea. We need help so are throwing the floor open to suggestions in the comment section please. Let’s see what the fertile minds on the Interweb can come up with.

Correspondent Trainers

Phil: With all this talk of shoes, I’ve been feeling a bit left out. I wear shoes, but like most men, my shoes come in Black and Brown plus trainers. We actually play on this in the book, describing Gareth as a man more familiar with the concept of not wearing brown in town than modern business practises. It’s a motto I subscribe to, for work my choice has been the classic 3-eye Doc Martin in black – for at least 12 years ! If you ordered Candice that she wear the same style of shoe for that length of time, the only black thing would be your eye…

As I pondered this glumly, I looked down and inspiration struck. Trainers. Not the sort da kidz wear, I’m far too old, and I flatter myself, sensible, to be told what to wear by Dr Nike. No I mean what I used to like to think of as my correspondent trainers.

I can’t remember when I bought these but it was a few years ago. They come from Lands End and were probably in a sale. I picked them because they fitted.

The colour is a sort of dark beige, probably refered to as “stone” which has mellowed thanks to wear and tear – they certainly aren’t “box fresh” but at least I don’t have to worry they will survive a ten minute walk in a car park. The welt extends up across the toe cap and heel giving them a sort of two colour look. Now, I read somewhere that two colour shoes are nicknamed “correspondent shoes” so I always considered these to be “correspondent trainers”.

Needless to say I got it wrong.

The term is actually Co-respondent shoes (Spectator shoe for American readers). A co-respondent is someone named in a divorce petition, in this case the sort of chap who can find himself labeled a cad or bounder. He probably has a moustache and drives an open top Jaguar. Such a despicable fellow will have a preference for the sort of flash footwear that your good honest, hard-working gentleman would consider beneath the pale. The shoes are easily remembered by hotel staff when left outside the room for cleaning while he and the object of his attention are inside doing the dastardly deed.

So my footwear are actually co-respondant trainers. All I need now is some top lip fur, a suitable open top sporty number and develop a raffish persona.

Which makes me think of characters for the next book. Perhaps not though, I think our two leading ladies would eat him alive !

 

Mr Kelly

Andrew looked at the faces of the crowd before him. Everyone was a mixture of misery and defeat. Hardly surprising as he had just announced that the Horticultural Investigation Agency, the vegetable research centre where they all worked, was to close.

Phil: Last week, Candice explained how much of our book is a mix, albeit an exaggerated one, of experiences we have had working in various places. The same applies to the characters who will bear some relation to real people. Not partially close relationship most of the time (I should say that for legal reasons this applies especially to the bad ones), but creating a person out of thin area is impossible. You are bound to use elements of real people.

Andrew Livingstone is a good example. In the story he is head of the Horticulture Investigation Agency and as it opens, he is charged with telling everyone the government is going to close them down.

The scene is inspired by being stood in the crowd watching someone explain how our quango was to be closed down. The man doing the talking wasn’t the man we saw. It was Mr Kelly. Sort of.

Back in the dim and distant past, in an era before the Interweb was invented, I worked for the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food. I was the lowest of the low – you spoke to me about having your cows tested for TB or Brucellosis. Eventually, after a combination of hard work and being in the right place at the right time, I was the man you spoke to if your cow was a bit wobbly and you thought it might have BSE. I was truly a friend to the sons of the soil. (I didn’t just do cows, if you found a bat you called me as well but I just rang one of my contacts to get it taken away.)

Mr Kelly was the Divisional Veterinary Officer for our little office. He was a really lovely bloke. The sort of person you want to do your best for because he would appreciate it rather than because he would yell at you if you didn’t. Never obviously ambitious, he had ascended to the lofty heights of being in charge of our little office after a career in honest government service. With only a couple of years to go to retirement he had seen it all and spoken to most it too. If we had a difficult customer, he would deal with them and calm the situation. We didn’t need this skill very often but you never knew when it might be handy – an earlier occupant of the post had managed to leave a circus with a broken nose after getting off on the wrong foot. I suspect Mr Kelly would have sorted things out and probably been offered free tickets.

In my head, when I wrote Andrews parts, I pictured Mr Kelly. He would have been very upset to have to deliver the news and yet everyone would have felt for him even as he was telling them they were heading for the scrap-heap. It wasn’t his fault.

A character who is completely nice doesn’t make for interesting reading, so Andrew is also wily when required, just like his real life counterpart. He isn’t taking things lying down and has in a mind a way to fight back. As the plot progresses, his plan is revealed – although I won’t tell you if it is succesful, you’ll have to wait until we get published for that ! (Why not write to you MP demanding this ?). He also has to deal with a bit of transgression by the staff and instead of getting upset, takes the situation and uses it to his best advantage.

This last part caused a bit of discussion between us. Without giving too much away, something is found that shouldn’t be there. Candice assumed Andrew would have known about it and thus would be unhappy about its discovery. I knew that Mr Kelly would have been surprised and disappointed about it but since he wasn’t a control freak he would just put it down to young people doing what they do. However he would then have turned a potential disaster into a triumph. This would have been done very calmly and pragmatically.

So that is what happened.

What’s this got to do with the fish picture ? Well, as I say, it was a long time ago. Required to wear a tie in the office, I developed a taste for more unusual decoration. Mr Kelly saw this the first time I wore it and quietly asked that I brought it out again on his last day when we were due to have a retirement party. I wasn’t sure about this but did as requested. During his speech he ran through everyone in the office making some polite and complimentary comments about them. Getting to me he mentioned my lurid neckwear and something along the lines “…and judging from his latest tie, he appears to be joining the Fisheries division.”