A Blog From The Past

Here's a three part blog! Somebody was asking me about the relevance of Harrogate, a Victorian Spa town, to the world of crime fiction on this side of the pond. It is the home of the Harrogate Crime Writing Festival, which was set up by my old agent Jane Gregory. The festival takes place in the Swan Hotel in Harrogate for a special reason.

I thought I had blogged about 'The special reason' but must have imagined it.

On searching around, I found a blog from my Friday predecessor,  Mr Dan Waddell, who was having trouble with his access at the time. I think it's from 2015. 10 years ago. I know you could have worked that out but numeracy rates in Scotland are at an all time low.

It makes interesting reading, so I thought I'd leave it as it was except for a new photos I have added.

And one comment that I shall add as it puts a spin on 'the event'.  "Theresa Neele" was the name of Agatha Christie's first husband's mistress.

This intro by me.

Second intro by Stan

Blog by Dan.

  

Harrogate

Dan has been having problems accessing Murder is Everywhere, so he asked me to post his blog.  He apologizes about the lack of photos, but he's been having problems with them too.  (Probably too much Theakston!) - Stan

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I’m currently lounging around at the Old Peculier crime writing

festival in Harrogate (that’s not a typo by the way – Old Peculier is

a beer made by the sponsors Theakston. A very strong beer. The sort

that makes you walk and talk very silly). Harrogate is the most

prestigious event of its type in the UK, which is not the same as

being the most fun. Crimefest wins that contest, but then it’s an

entirely different festival. Harrogate is invitational, which gives it

a rather aloof, undemocratic air, unlike the

one-for-all-for-one-oh-go-on-I’ll-have-another atmosphere of Bristol.

It’s still a good laugh, however. This year’s line-up is very starry:

Ian Rankin (he’s having a cappuccino over there, so much for Tartan

noir…), Jeffery Deaver, Jeff Lindsay, Karin Slaughter, Val McDermid

(mineral water behind me) and Joanne Harris are all appearing. Rather

than there being a number of panels running concurrently for punters

to attend, there is only one event at a time, and as a consequence the

audiences can be huge. Last year I was invited to appear on the New

Blood panel, and there must have been 500 or 600 people in the

audience, which was pretty daunting. I was almost tempted to break

open my complimentary bottle of Old Peculier for some Dutch courage

while we waited to go on stage, though sanity prevailed. We managed to

muddle through.

I’m not invited this year (lost in the mail, I reckon) so I’m here as

a fan rather than writer. I’m particularly interested by the 5pm panel

today, celebrating the life of Agatha Christie. She may not be

fashionable, and some of her books may not have dated particularly

well, but I’m very fond of a spot of Agatha. I remember reading a fair

bit of Poirot as a young teenager, and while I date the beginning of

my love of crime fiction to reading Emil and the Detectives as a

pre-teen, my teenage dalliance with Christie helped deepen the affair.

She has an indelible link to Harrogate. It was here, in this sedate,

spa town in North Yorkshire that she fled in 1926. She was then

probably the most famous person in England. Her disappearance was

national news. It was feared that she had committed suicide, the

police launched a manhunt that lasted eleven days, Arthur Conan Doyle,

convinced she was dead, took one of her gloves to a medium to see if

she could be located in the afterlife. She was finally spotted by a

banjo player at the Swan Hydropathic Hotel, where she had booked in

under the name Mrs Teresa Neele

Last year I stayed at the Swan (now the Old Swan, and it makes much of

its part in the Christie disappearance). The rooms are so small you

have to go outside to change your mind but tucked away, at the end of

a leafy side street, you could see why she chose it as the place to

escape from the pressures of her fame. Personally, I couldn’t help

but marvel at her ability to remain incognito for so long. These days,

with GPRS, 24 hour rolling news, cashpoint machines, credit cards, it

would be an achievement for a notable figure to disappear for 11

hours.

Anyway, must go. Knitting Needles at Dawn is about to start...(which

reminds me of the time at a talk where an old lady told me about a

woman she knew who stabbed her abusive husband of 36 years to death

with a knitting needle. Apparently when the police arrived – she had

called them – she asked for a few more minutes to finish a jumper for

her granddaughter.)

Cheers

Dan - Friday