Dear Visitor

It's only a couple of days into August as I write this, so I'm not too late, considering. Not the virus, this time - it kept itself to itself for the most part during July, and does not so far seem to have reinfected my computer. This time, it was the demands on my time, darlings - it was all just too, too glamorous for words. I survived the TV thing I told you about last month. Just.

The filming was quite fun, to be honest, but I did draw the line at strolling knee-deep through a meadow of high, damp grass - I pointed out that it really wasn't in character. Pete and Dave (producer and cameraman) were very pleasant companions, and I don't think I wasted too much of their time with retakes, though there were a few. Especially in the church.

They wanted to film me in the church in Rockingham that I used in Redemption (Murder at the Old Vicarage), which was fine, except that they wanted me to be backlit with a blue spotlight while looking at the stained glass window, and after they had set everything up, we discovered that the electricity was off.

The estate office at Rockingham Castle (the church is part of the Rockingham Castle estate, unlike in the book), got the electricity turned on for us, but it took a while, during which time I was desperately trying to think of something to say about the church, with which I wasn't really terribly familiar. I had once taken shelter in there during a thunderstorm and it caught my imagination, that was all.

It wasn't an interview - Pete would start me off by asking some broad question like 'Tell us what (this place) means to you and the part it plays in the book', and then I had to make some preferably coherent remarks as though I were talking to a friend. But I hadn't got to look at the camera, or at either of them, and sometimes I had to do it walking along the street entirely on my own with the camera miles away, so passers-by didn't even know it was there, and just thought I was potty. It's not easy - try it.

And, of course, as I said, I knew very little about the church. But I had about half an hour to think of something to say, so I was kind of rehearsing it. Pete had read a stone in the wall that said the original twelfth (I think) century church had been rebuilt in the seventeenth century, so I thought I'd do something along the lines of 'The seventeenth-century St Stephen's church in Rockingham is the model for St Augustus in Redemption…' You know the sort of thing. I'm a lot better at it if I don't have time to think what I'm going to say, but at least the delay was letting me gather some info on the place - and come to that, remember my fictional vicar's last name, which I did in the nick of time.

So I'm sitting there, silently going over the beginning bit, the tricky bit. It's something of a tongue-twister - there are a lot of sibilants. Mustn't lisp. Mustn't get the century wrong. 'The seventeenth-century St Stephen's church in Rockingham…the seventeenth-century St Stephen's church in Rockingham…the seventeenth-century…' Over and over again, like a mantra. And eventually the electricity is put on, the spotlight is lit, and I have to walk into shot, back to camera, looking up at the stained glass window, stop when I hit my mark, and deliver my spiel, turning to the camera at some point during it - when it seems natural, Pete says.

None of it seems natural, but I've been doing it all day, and I'm beginning to get used to it. There are people in the church - sight-seers, or people sheltering from the thunderstorm raging outside, just I did and just it did the last time I was here. They are looking at us curiously. I have an audience, and I hadn't counted on that. A couple of goes are aborted for the mark to be adjusted so that I am properly in frame, and then it's all systems go.

I walk into shot, I hit my mark. 'The seventeenth-century St Stephen's church in Rockingham is the model for St Augustus in Redemption,' I begin. 'And it's by the light of this stained glass window that the Reverend George Wheeler confronts his demons…' (pause, turn to camera) '…his crisis of conscience,' (turn back to window), 'and one of his parishioners.'

Perfect. It was perfect. No lisp. A hint of ominous suspense at the end. It was perfect. So why is Pete looking at me like that?

'That was great,' he said. 'Lovely. Just what we wanted. One little problem, though. It's called St Leonard's church.'

Anyway, when the film was shown, it spawned a minor flurry of requests for interviews and things, and I found July becoming very crowded indeed, which is my excuse for being a little late this month. Next month, the excuse will be that I'm in the middle of Lloyd and Hill number thirteen, or at least I hope it will, now that I've got what seems to be a working computer, and time to begin writing.

But even as I write, the screen is flashing different colours. It's been doing that for months, and it's getting much worse. I lost one of the base colours altogether recently, with the result that black and red were indistinguishable. It was OK the next time I put it on, but it's doing it again now. Do you think my monitor's dying? Well, of course it is.

It's one last film competition this month, and the six answers spell a name with which I know you are reasonably familiar. Next month, I hope to have an all-new competition with a different format. And I'm hoping to put some new stuff on the site in the near future, so watch this space.

Love,
Jill

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