If you loved reading about Poppy and her friends in The Jazz Files you will be delighted that book 2 in the series, The Kill Fee, is now available for pre-order. It will be published in September (UK) and November (USA).
“Do you know who that is, Poppy?” asked Delilah
“I do indeed.”
“So what does it feel like to be in the arms of an assassin?”
Poppy Denby’s star is on the rise. Now the Arts and Entertainment Editor at The Daily Globe, she covers a glamorous exhibition of Russian Art at the Crystal Palace. During the exhibition a shot rings out, leaving an injured guard and an empty pedestal in the place of the largest Fabergé Egg in the collection. The egg itself is valuable, but more so are the secrets contained within – secrets that could destroy the royal families of Europe.
Suspects are aplenty and Poppy, her editor Rollo, and the other staff of the Globe are delighted to be once again in the middle of a sensational story. When they are offered a ‘kill fee’ to drop the story, they know they are onto something explosive. But soon the investigation takes a dark turn when someone connected to the exhibition is murdered and an employee of the newspaper becomes a suspect. The race is on to find the egg before the killer strikes again…
Pre-order your copy here!
The thing that has struck me most in the last 7 days re Brexit is how many people’s first (and, in many cases, continuing) reaction to it is GRIEF. Mine was, and is. I know it has also left many Leave voters perplexed. Anger can be understood and countered with anger, and argument with argument. For others anger is easier to ignore, because it’s ‘not worth getting into a fight about’ … but grief? How does one respond to grief without it sounding platitudinous and trite? Or cruel? Or disdainful? Or kind … but not being received that way? (When that happens, grief sets in to the well-meaning person who offered the kindness, puzzled as to why it was rebuffed.)
So why all this grief? Well it’s certainly not grief for the mere severing of a legislative relationship. And it’s not grief for the loss of a Utopian world of EU-ness. No one I know who voted Remain actually believes being part of the EU was all happy and glorious. We know there were problems, but we believed, and still do, that the good outweighed the bad.
So what are we actually grieving for? I think it is an anticipatory grief for what many of us foresaw would be the unleashing of a Tsunami of unintended consequences that we knew would follow a Leave vote. Consequences that are far, far more devastating than the severing of a legislative relationship and the regaining of so-called ‘sovereignty’. I’m not going to repeat them all here. Just turn on the news, you’ll see for yourself.
It’s like knowing in advance what the consequences of a cancer diagnosis will be and then waiting for the result. When it comes, if it is indeed cancer, then grief sets in. ANTICIPATORY grief for what we know will now come. I know, because I went through this with my mother three years ago.
Cancer is an apt metaphor. We all know the cancer in Britain runs much deeper than those for and against remaining in Europe. The cancer is in our communities and the unfulfilled hopes and dreams of millions of people. The cancer diagnosis I believe is not incorrect, but I fear the ‘cure’ that 17 million people voted for will simply make it worse. And that is why I grieve
Filed under: thinking
| Tagged as: Brexit
My thoughts on Brexit and the unforeseen consequences of words.