Kate Mayfield's Blog

ON A BLOGGING BREAK...





For quite some time now I've been on a blogging hiatus while I've been writing, editing, writing, editing. Thanks very much for dropping by.

 
MEET CARLAVALENTINE
Technical Curatorof Barts Pathology Museum


“I consider the body a canvas that’s been painted on byvarious diseases or accidents and from them you can interpret and find out whathappened to the person. That’s what I did in the mortuary and that’s what I donow at Barts.”



by Rob Greig for Time out

Carla Valentine knew she wanted to be a mortician from theage of eight. I spoke with Carla in her cosy office at Barts Pathology Museum surrounded by skulls and specimens. As herstory unfolded I suggested that it was actually reading and literature that played a large role in the journey to her current position as curator.

She began reading when she was one and half years old. Once,when she was naughty, her mother sent her to her room as punishment, butseveral hours later when she hadn’t emerged, her mother grew worried and openedthe door to tell her she could come out. But Carla said no, that’s all right,she didn’t want to. She was reading.
She read Agatha Christie, Conan Doyle and remembered goingto the library at the age of ten for horror books by John Saul and StephenKing.





The librarian suggested that these books weren’t suitablefor her, but her interests in crime, the body, and pathology only grew.
“No one in my family was a mortician or a funeraldirector, and when I began there was no “CSI” or “Silent Witness”. In fact, Ican’t stand a lot of those shows because they’re not realistic. It was just anodd thing that I wanted to do. If I saw a dead cat that had maggots on it Iwasn’t automatically revolted, I was more fascinated by what was going onthere. It was a mixture of being naturally interested and then having beenshaped by the kind of literature I was interested in as I was growing up.
I got a microscope for Christmas when I was eight. Ibrought it to school for Show and Tell along with sliced up earthworms. I wassurprised I wasn’t unpopular or picked on. I had quite normal friends and Ithink children are a bit weird and morbid sometimes because they’re trying tocome to terms with huge grown up issues of life.”
Carla did a degree in forensic and bimolecular sciences atuniversity. For a time she volunteered as an assistant to a female embalmer whowas pregnant, and then returned to Liverpool for more education. Though she’dbeen an embalmer’s assistant, she’d had no experience with decomposition andbecame concerned that she was only looking at slides of decomposed bodies andbones and began to think:
“What if I can’t stand it? So I went to the mortuary tosee if they’d let me volunteer. I turned up at the Liverpool City Morgue, andat the time someone was working there who was an old school mortuarytechnician. He wore big thick glasses and spoke like Michael Cane with loads ofstories about the Krays that can’t have all been true. By the time I’d beenvolunteering there for about 6 months, they advertised for staff and Iinterviewed for the job and won it.”
Carla told me that her work as a mortuary assistant wasexactly as she thought it would be.
“Many people enter the work with the completely wrongidea about what it will be like. They think it’s all about crime. The simplefact of the matter is that you will be covered in faeces. You will be coveredin blood. You will be tired. I knew that, and was ready for it. The citymortuary was a Coronial mortuary, which means as a volunteer I will have seenmany more types of death and levels of decomposition than someone who works ina hospital mortuary. I was in that mortuary for three years. I’ve seen a lot:mummification, bloating, people who’ve jumped in front of trains, hangings.”
On July 7, 2005, Carla was asked to join the big mortuarythat was set up near Old Street when the London bombings occurred. Due to herexperience there, she then went on to do a Master’s degree in forensicanthropology. She visited Belgium and Venice to work on skeletal excavations togain both hard and soft tissue experience.
In a series of seemingly destined career moves, she workedat St George’s in Tooting for a year when she took a more senior position at StThomas’s very busy mortuary for four years. Then she felt she no longer wantedto be a Senior in the morgue as her job had become more focused on paperwork. Shetook a temporary job as a tissue bank assistant at the cancer institute of St.Bartholomew’s Hospital. About six months into that job, an internal advertappeared for the position she currently holds. When she saw the advert sherealized that she never even knew Barts Pathology Museum existed.
Carla has brought fresh young eyes and a completely newgeneration’s view to her position. She doesn’t see human remains and pathologymuseums in the same way as the “old boys”. 



“The difference is that museums like Barts seem to have areputation that it should only exist for medical students, that there’ssomething nasty or untoward about the public seeing body parts. What’s weirdabout that opinion is that if you go back to the 1800s, you’ll see descriptionsof anatomical museums described as places where intellectuals and interestedpeople may come and have a drink and a discussion.



 So it’sexactly what I’m doing here now.
I have a different constitution to what you mightconsider gory. Television and literature has changed in my generation, but alsomy background is in a mortuary, so I think this is actually really clean, it’sall natural. If you really want to offend someone take them to a mortuary.
I don’t want to only have a toxicology lecture, let’stalk about Marilyn Monroe’s death, too. We’ll have academics in to talk aboutorgan transplants, and then we’ll have someone talk about Frankenstein.
The ultimate aim is to make people aware that we are allhuman and these specimens belong to everybody”.

by Tim Hook

I asked Carla about her interest in the topic of sex anddeath. “At the very basic level, one begins life and one endsit. You have these two polar opposites. My interest is about our relationshipwith human remains in general, because I’ve always read about the differentways in which people treat their dead. Some people have a good relationshipwith the remains of human beings and some have a bad relationship. For example,in the UK I think we have a bad one. We don’t want to see specimens; we seem toassociate them with something untoward. We don’t lay out our own dead anymore.When you think about those two polar opposites of sex and death, isn’t it oddthen that we live in a very gory culture and a very sex and death-obsessedculture. It seems to be one or another.
Lovers Surprised By Death by Hans Burgkmair




Freud said that we have two instincts, the sex instinctand the death instinct. In my research I found that when a female has anorgasm, part of her brain shuts down, so it is as if she’s experiencing alittle death. There are animals that have sex and then kill their mate, or theydie having sex. I am not creating the links between sex and death. They arealready there and I’m exploring them.
She certainly is exploring. Ultimately, Carla would like towrite a PhD thesis on the subject, though it may have to wait. She’s currentlywriting a memoir about her work in mortuaries and as a mortician. On top ofthat, and along with her many responsibilities at Barts Pathology Museum, sheruns Dead Meet, the dating site for death professionals.
You can learn more about Carla, Barts, and Dead Meet throughthe links below.
Many thanks to Carla for sharing her fascinating pathto Barts.

http://thechickandthedead.com/
http://www.qmul.ac.uk/bartspathology/
http://www.dead-meet.com/

 
MEET CARLA VALENTINE
Technical Curator of Barts Pathology Museum


“I consider the body a canvas that’s been painted on by various diseases or accidents and from them you can interpret and find out what happened to the person. That’s what I did in the mortuary and that’s what I do now at Barts.”



by Rob Greig for Time out

Carla Valentine knew she wanted to be a mortician from the age of eight. I spoke with Carla in her cosy office at Barts Pathology Museum surrounded by skulls and specimens. As her story unfolded I suggested that it was actually reading and literature that played a large role in the journey to her current position as curator.

She began reading when she was one and half years old. Once, when she was naughty, her mother sent her to her room as punishment, but several hours later when she hadn’t emerged, her mother grew worried and opened the door to tell her she could come out. But Carla said no, that’s all right, she didn’t want to. She was reading.
She read Agatha Christie, Conan Doyle and remembered going to the library at the age of ten for horror books by John Saul and Stephen King.





The librarian suggested that these books weren’t suitable for her, but her interests in crime, the body, and pathology only grew.
“No one in my family was a mortician or a funeral director, and when I began there was no “CSI” or “Silent Witness”. In fact, I can’t stand a lot of those shows because they’re not realistic. It was just an odd thing that I wanted to do. If I saw a dead cat that had maggots on it I wasn’t automatically revolted, I was more fascinated by what was going on there. It was a mixture of being naturally interested and then having been shaped by the kind of literature I was interested in as I was growing up.
I got a microscope for Christmas when I was eight. I brought it to school for Show and Tell along with sliced up earthworms. I was surprised I wasn’t unpopular or picked on. I had quite normal friends and I think children are a bit weird and morbid sometimes because they’re trying to come to terms with huge grown up issues of life.”
Carla did a degree in forensic and bimolecular sciences at university. For a time she volunteered as an assistant to a female embalmer who was pregnant, and then returned to Liverpool for more education. Though she’d been an embalmer’s assistant, she’d had no experience with decomposition and became concerned that she was only looking at slides of decomposed bodies and bones and began to think:
“What if I can’t stand it? So I went to the mortuary to see if they’d let me volunteer. I turned up at the Liverpool City Morgue, and at the time someone was working there who was an old school mortuary technician. He wore big thick glasses and spoke like Michael Cane with loads of stories about the Krays that can’t have all been true. By the time I’d been volunteering there for about 6 months, they advertised for staff and I interviewed for the job and won it.”
Carla told me that her work as a mortuary assistant was exactly as she thought it would be.
“Many people enter the work with the completely wrong idea about what it will be like. They think it’s all about crime. The simple fact of the matter is that you will be covered in faeces. You will be covered in blood. You will be tired. I knew that, and was ready for it. The city mortuary was a Coronial mortuary, which means as a volunteer I will have seen many more types of death and levels of decomposition than someone who works in a hospital mortuary. I was in that mortuary for three years. I’ve seen a lot: mummification, bloating, people who’ve jumped in front of trains, hangings.”
On July 7, 2005, Carla was asked to join the big mortuary that was set up near Old Street when the London bombings occurred. Due to her experience there, she then went on to do a Master’s degree in forensic anthropology. She visited Belgium and Venice to work on skeletal excavations to gain both hard and soft tissue experience.
In a series of seemingly destined career moves, she worked at St George’s in Tooting for a year when she took a more senior position at St Thomas’s very busy mortuary for four years. Then she felt she no longer wanted to be a Senior in the morgue as her job had become more focused on paperwork. She took a temporary job as a tissue bank assistant at the cancer institute of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. About six months into that job, an internal advert appeared for the position she currently holds. When she saw the advert she realized that she never even knew Barts Pathology Museum existed.
Carla has brought fresh young eyes and a completely new generation’s view to her position. She doesn’t see human remains and pathology museums in the same way as the “old boys”. 



“The difference is that museums like Barts seem to have a reputation that it should only exist for medical students, that there’s something nasty or untoward about the public seeing body parts. What’s weird about that opinion is that if you go back to the 1800s, you’ll see descriptions of anatomical museums described as places where intellectuals and interested people may come and have a drink and a discussion.



 So it’s exactly what I’m doing here now.
I have a different constitution to what you might consider gory. Television and literature has changed in my generation, but also my background is in a mortuary, so I think this is actually really clean, it’s all natural. If you really want to offend someone take them to a mortuary.
I don’t want to only have a toxicology lecture, let’s talk about Marilyn Monroe’s death, too. We’ll have academics in to talk about organ transplants, and then we’ll have someone talk about Frankenstein.
The ultimate aim is to make people aware that we are all human and these specimens belong to everybody”.

by Tim Hook

I asked Carla about her interest in the topic of sex and death.   “At the very basic level, one begins life and one ends it. You have these two polar opposites. My interest is about our relationship with human remains in general, because I’ve always read about the different ways in which people treat their dead. Some people have a good relationship with the remains of human beings and some have a bad relationship. For example, in the UK I think we have a bad one. We don’t want to see specimens; we seem to associate them with something untoward. We don’t lay out our own dead anymore. When you think about those two polar opposites of sex and death, isn’t it odd then that we live in a very gory culture and a very sex and death-obsessed culture. It seems to be one or another.
Lovers Surprised By Death by Hans Burgkmair




Freud said that we have two instincts, the sex instinct and the death instinct. In my research I found that when a female has an orgasm, part of her brain shuts down, so it is as if she’s experiencing a little death. There are animals that have sex and then kill their mate, or they die having sex. I am not creating the links between sex and death. They are already there and I’m exploring them.
She certainly is exploring. Ultimately, Carla would like to write a PhD thesis on the subject, though it may have to wait. She’s currently writing a memoir about her work in mortuaries and as a mortician. On top of that, and along with her many responsibilities at Barts Pathology Museum, she runs Dead Meet, the dating site for death professionals.
You can learn more about Carla, Barts, and Dead Meet through the links below.
Many thanks to Carla for sharing her fascinating path to Barts.

http://thechickandthedead.com/
http://www.qmul.ac.uk/bartspathology/
http://www.dead-meet.com/

 
MEET CARLA VALENTINE
Technical Curator of Barts Pathology Museum


“I consider the body a canvas that’s been painted on by various diseases or accidents and from them you can interpret and find out what happened to the person. That’s what I did in the mortuary and that’s what I do now at Barts.”



by Rob Greig for Time out

Carla Valentine knew she wanted to be a mortician from the age of eight. I spoke with Carla in her cosy office at Barts Pathology Museum surrounded by skulls and specimens. As her story unfolded I suggested that it was actually reading and literature that played a large role in the journey to her current position as curator.

She began reading when she was one and half years old. Once, when she was naughty, her mother sent her to her room as punishment, but several hours later when she hadn’t emerged, her mother grew worried and opened the door to tell her she could come out. But Carla said no, that’s all right, she didn’t want to. She was reading.
She read Agatha Christie, Conan Doyle and remembered going to the library at the age of ten for horror books by John Saul and Stephen King.





The librarian suggested that these books weren’t suitable for her, but her interests in crime, the body, and pathology only grew.
“No one in my family was a mortician or a funeral director, and when I began there was no “CSI” or “Silent Witness”. In fact, I can’t stand a lot of those shows because they’re not realistic. It was just an odd thing that I wanted to do. If I saw a dead cat that had maggots on it I wasn’t automatically revolted, I was more fascinated by what was going on there. It was a mixture of being naturally interested and then having been shaped by the kind of literature I was interested in as I was growing up.
I got a microscope for Christmas when I was eight. I brought it to school for Show and Tell along with sliced up earthworms. I was surprised I wasn’t unpopular or picked on. I had quite normal friends and I think children are a bit weird and morbid sometimes because they’re trying to come to terms with huge grown up issues of life.”
Carla did a degree in forensic and bimolecular sciences at university. For a time she volunteered as an assistant to a female embalmer who was pregnant, and then returned to Liverpool for more education. Though she’d been an embalmer’s assistant, she’d had no experience with decomposition and became concerned that she was only looking at slides of decomposed bodies and bones and began to think:
“What if I can’t stand it? So I went to the mortuary to see if they’d let me volunteer. I turned up at the Liverpool City Morgue, and at the time someone was working there who was an old school mortuary technician. He wore big thick glasses and spoke like Michael Cane with loads of stories about the Krays that can’t have all been true. By the time I’d been volunteering there for about 6 months, they advertised for staff and I interviewed for the job and won it.”
Carla told me that her work as a mortuary assistant was exactly as she thought it would be.
“Many people enter the work with the completely wrong idea about what it will be like. They think it’s all about crime. The simple fact of the matter is that you will be covered in faeces. You will be covered in blood. You will be tired. I knew that, and was ready for it. The city mortuary was a Coronial mortuary, which means as a volunteer I will have seen many more types of death and levels of decomposition than someone who works in a hospital mortuary. I was in that mortuary for three years. I’ve seen a lot: mummification, bloating, people who’ve jumped in front of trains, hangings.”
On July 7, 2005, Carla was asked to join the big mortuary that was set up near Old Street when the London bombings occurred. Due to her experience there, she then went on to do a Master’s degree in forensic anthropology. She visited Belgium and Venice to work on skeletal excavations to gain both hard and soft tissue experience.
In a series of seemingly destined career moves, she worked at St George’s in Tooting for a year when she took a more senior position at St Thomas’s very busy mortuary for four years. Then she felt she no longer wanted to be a Senior in the morgue as her job had become more focused on paperwork. She took a temporary job as a tissue bank assistant at the cancer institute of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. About six months into that job, an internal advert appeared for the position she currently holds. When she saw the advert she realized that she never even knew Barts Pathology Museum existed.
Carla has brought fresh young eyes and a completely new generation’s view to her position. She doesn’t see human remains and pathology museums in the same way as the “old boys”. 



“The difference is that museums like Barts seem to have a reputation that it should only exist for medical students, that there’s something nasty or untoward about the public seeing body parts. What’s weird about that opinion is that if you go back to the 1800s, you’ll see descriptions of anatomical museums described as places where intellectuals and interested people may come and have a drink and a discussion.



 So it’s exactly what I’m doing here now.
I have a different constitution to what you might consider gory. Television and literature has changed in my generation, but also my background is in a mortuary, so I think this is actually really clean, it’s all natural. If you really want to offend someone take them to a mortuary.
I don’t want to only have a toxicology lecture, let’s talk about Marilyn Monroe’s death, too. We’ll have academics in to talk about organ transplants, and then we’ll have someone talk about Frankenstein.
The ultimate aim is to make people aware that we are all human and these specimens belong to everybody”.

by Tim Hook

I asked Carla about her interest in the topic of sex and death.   “At the very basic level, one begins life and one ends it. You have these two polar opposites. My interest is about our relationship with human remains in general, because I’ve always read about the different ways in which people treat their dead. Some people have a good relationship with the remains of human beings and some have a bad relationship. For example, in the UK I think we have a bad one. We don’t want to see specimens; we seem to associate them with something untoward. We don’t lay out our own dead anymore. When you think about those two polar opposites of sex and death, isn’t it odd then that we live in a very gory culture and a very sex and death-obsessed culture. It seems to be one or another.
Lovers Surprised By Death by Hans Burgkmair




Freud said that we have two instincts, the sex instinct and the death instinct. In my research I found that when a female has an orgasm, part of her brain shuts down, so it is as if she’s experiencing a little death. There are animals that have sex and then kill their mate, or they die having sex. I am not creating the links between sex and death. They are already there and I’m exploring them.
She certainly is exploring. Ultimately, Carla would like to write a PhD thesis on the subject, though it may have to wait. She’s currently writing a memoir about her work in mortuaries and as a mortician. On top of that, and along with her many responsibilities at Barts Pathology Museum, she runs Dead Meet, the dating site for death professionals.
You can learn more about Carla, Barts, and Dead Meet through the links below.
Many thanks to Carla for sharing her fascinating path to Barts.

http://thechickandthedead.com/
http://www.qmul.ac.uk/bartspathology/
http://www.dead-meet.com/

 Image by Lozzy Bones Art <!-- /* Font Definitions */@font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;}@font-face {font-family:Verdana; panose-1:0 2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;}p {margin-right:0cm; mso-margin-top-alt:auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times;}table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";}@page Section1 {size:595.0pt 842.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;}div.Section1 {page:Section1;}





Death and the Maiden is a new project created by Lucy Talbot and Sarah Troop.

In their words:

“The founders’ aim with this project is to create a space of exploration: examining the relationship between women & death by sharing ideas & creating a platform for discussion. They hope to create a supportive and inclusive community, and to amplify the voices of those actively creating the future of death.”


I was so pleased they asked me to contribute by writing their inaugural post.


My guest post, WOMEN IN THE MOURNING, can be found HERE

















HEARTS AT BARTS






Nestledin a corner of buildings behind the Henry VIII gates in West Smithfield is theGrade II Listed Victorian built Barts Pathology Museum the home of threemezzanine galleries of medical specimens.

Thisweek there were hearts everywhere.

Fromthe carefully curated anatomical hearts that looked as if they might once againbeat inside their glass specimen containers,






tothe artwork of Robin Lee, whose hearts hang gloriously from the third floor.







Alively crowd arrived on Wednesday night for my alternative Valentinepresentation.

Ibaked heart shaped Southern cheese biscuits. A few of them died in the flamingfires called The Timer Did Not Go Off Fires. But thankfully most survived.


 




TheSuperhero Volunteers kept a private stash under the table.





 


Andto quench the thirst brought about by the salty cheddar and hot cayenne, thegood people at Hendrick's Gin sent over a load of goodness. GIN PUNCH!




Thesame Superhero Volunteers created this beautiful table brightened by Valentinecards made by Lozzy Bones Art - alternativelysmashing. 






Ibrought along a heart that I had made especially for the evening, full ofmarshmallow and covered in edible rose petals.



 
Wegave the skeleton a heart transplant.  I grabbed achunk from this specimen and chewed a mouthful during my presentation, to illustrate a point abouteating one’s heart out.



 

Allof these hearty things occurred due to the tireless work of the woman on the left, whose name,and I really mean this, is Carla Valentine, the curator of Barts.








Aninterview with Carla will soon be posted on this blog.  To say she’s aninteresting woman would be an understatement.

Afterall the snacking and drinking the audience settled in their seats and the room wentdark – both literally and otherwise when I began my presentation on...





Afterwards, the wonderful people from Waterstones London Wall kindly sold the first copies of the UK paperback edition of my memoir THE UNDERTAKER'S DAUGHTER, which was mighty good of them.




 HappyAlternative Valentine’s Day

 Image by Lozzy Bones Art  <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:Verdana; panose-1:0 2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} p {margin-right:0cm; mso-margin-top-alt:auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times;} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.0pt 842.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;}





Death and the Maiden is a new project created by Lucy Talbot and Sarah Troop.

In their words:

“The founders’ aim with this project is to create a space of exploration: examining the relationship between women & death by sharing ideas & creating a platform for discussion. They hope to create a supportive and inclusive community, and to amplify the voices of those actively creating the future of death.”


I was so pleased they asked me to contribute by writing their inaugural post.


My guest post, WOMEN IN THE MOURNING, can be found HERE

















HEARTS AT BARTS






Nestled in a corner of buildings behind the Henry VIII gates in West Smithfield is the Grade II Listed Victorian built Barts Pathology Museum the home of three mezzanine galleries of medical specimens.

This week there were hearts everywhere.

From the carefully curated anatomical hearts that looked as if they might once again beat inside their glass specimen containers,






to the artwork of Robin Lee, whose hearts hang gloriously from the third floor.







A lively crowd arrived on Wednesday night for my alternative Valentine presentation.

I baked heart shaped Southern cheese biscuits. A few of them died in the flaming fires called The Timer Did Not Go Off Fires. But thankfully most survived.


 




The Superhero Volunteers kept a private stash under the table.





 


And to quench the thirst brought about by the salty cheddar and hot cayenne, the good people at Hendrick's Gin sent over a load of goodness. GIN PUNCH!




The same Superhero Volunteers created this beautiful table brightened by Valentine cards made by Lozzy Bones Art - alternatively smashing. 






I brought along a heart that I had made especially for the evening, full of marshmallow and covered in edible rose petals.



 
We gave the skeleton a heart transplant.  I grabbed a chunk from this specimen and chewed a mouthful during my presentation, to illustrate a point about eating one’s heart out.



 

All of these hearty things occurred due to the tireless work of the woman on the left, whose name, and I really mean this, is Carla Valentine, the curator of Barts.








An interview with Carla will soon be posted on this blog.  To say she’s an interesting woman would be an understatement.

After all the snacking and drinking the audience settled in their seats and the room went dark – both literally and otherwise when I began my presentation on...





Afterwards, the wonderful people from Waterstones London Wall kindly sold the first copies of the UK paperback edition of my memoir THE UNDERTAKER'S DAUGHTER, which was mighty good of them.




 Happy Alternative Valentine’s Day

 Image by Lozzy Bones Art  <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:Verdana; panose-1:0 2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} p {margin-right:0cm; mso-margin-top-alt:auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times;} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.0pt 842.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} </style><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, Helvetica, Arial;"><span>Death and the Maiden is a new project created by Lucy Talbot an Sarah Troop.<br /><br />In their words:<br /><br />“<i>The founders’ aim with this project is to create a space of exploration: examining the relationship between women & death by sharing ideas & creating a platform for discussion. They hope to create a supportive and inclusive community, and to amplify the voices of those actively creating the future of death.”<br /></i><br /><br />I was so pleased they asked me to contribute by writing their inaugural post.<br /><br /><br />My guest post, WOMEN IN THE MOURNING, can be found <a href="http://deadmaidens.com/2015/02/16/wom..." target="_blank">HERE </a></span></span></b></span> <br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GUEEv6DPSAw..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GUEEv6DPSAw..." /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">HEARTS AT BARTS </span></span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nestled in a corner of buildings behind the Henry VIII gates in West Smithfield is the Grade II Listed Victorian built <a href="http://www.qmul.ac.uk/bartspathology/" target="_blank">Barts Pathology Museum </a>the home of three mezzanine galleries of medical specimens. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This week there were hearts everywhere. </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">From the carefully curated anatomical hearts that looked as if they might once again beat inside their glass specimen containers, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cWE7ZcyUs6o..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cWE7ZcyUs6o..." height="640" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">to the artwork of <a href="http://www.robinleeart.co.uk/" target="_blank">Robin Lee</a>, whose hearts hang gloriously from the third floor.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2qpWV7xHxmo..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2qpWV7xHxmo..." height="320" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">A lively crowd arrived on Wednesday night for my alternative Valentine presentation.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I baked heart shaped Southern cheese biscuits. A few of them died in the flaming fires called The Timer Did Not Go Off Fires. But thankfully most survived.</span></b></span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dZ9OYQ56ico..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dZ9OYQ56ico..." height="400" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Superhero Volunteers kept a private stash under the table.</span></b></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cBYJD4ZGv9c..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P8UdgvdAeU8..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P8UdgvdAeU8..." height="640" width="360" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">And to quench the thirst brought about by the salty cheddar and hot cayenne, the good people at <a href="http://uk.hendricksgin.com/" target="_blank">Hendrick's Gin</a> sent over a load of goodness. GIN PUNCH!</span></b></span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-leO1NNd7xJU..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-leO1NNd7xJU..." height="480" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The same Superhero Volunteers created this beautiful table brightened by Valentine cards made by <a href="http://lozzybonesart.com/" target="_blank">Lozzy Bones Art</a> - alternatively smashing.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></b></span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I1NW1AH6CNs..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I1NW1AH6CNs..." height="640" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xcZtpQAq8BU..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I brought along a heart that I had made especially for the evening, full of marshmallow and covered in edible rose petals.</span></span></b><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xcZtpQAq8BU..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xcZtpQAq8BU..." height="640" width="480" /></a></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xcZtpQAq8BU..." style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">We gave the skeleton a heart transplant.  I grabbed a chunk from this specimen and chewed a mouthful during my presentation, to illustrate a point about eating one’s heart out.</span></b></span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UaaDNo3dSqE..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UaaDNo3dSqE..." height="640" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">All of these hearty things occurred due to the tireless work of the woman on the left, whose name, and I really mean this, is Carla Valentine, the curator of Barts.</span></b></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gmRByE1yVKk..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gmRByE1yVKk..." height="444" width="640" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">An interview with Carla will soon be posted on this blog.  To say she’s an interesting woman would be an understatement.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /><br /></span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>After all the snacking and drinking the audience settled in their seats and the room went dark – both literally and otherwise when I began my presentation on...</b></span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fSNR3kJZ4xQ..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fSNR3kJZ4xQ..." height="360" width="640" /></a></span></div><br /><br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Afterwards, the wonderful people from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Waters..." target="_blank">Waterstones London Wall</a> kindly sold the first copies of the UK paperback edition of my memoir THE UNDERTAKER'S DAUGHTER, which was mighty good of them.</span></span></b><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0NKUKu-L8w..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0NKUKu-L8w..." height="640" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Happy Alternative Valentine’s Day</span></b></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zM8aIdfMxw8..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zM8aIdfMxw8..." height="450" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>

 <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:Verdana; panose-1:0 2 11 6 4 3 5 4 4 2; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} p {margin-right:0cm; mso-margin-top-alt:auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times;} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.0pt 842.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} </style><br /> <br /><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">HEARTS AT BARTS </span></span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nestled in a corner of buildings behind the Henry VIII gates in West Smithfield is the Grade II Listed Victorian built <a href="http://www.qmul.ac.uk/bartspathology/" target="_blank">Barts Pathology Museum </a>the home of three mezzanine galleries of medical specimens. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">This week there were hearts everywhere. </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">From the carefully curated anatomical hearts that looked as if they might once again beat inside their glass specimen containers, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cWE7ZcyUs6o..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cWE7ZcyUs6o..." height="640" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">to the artwork of <a href="http://www.robinleeart.co.uk/" target="_blank">Robin Lee</a>, whose hearts hang gloriously from the third floor.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2qpWV7xHxmo..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2qpWV7xHxmo..." height="320" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">A lively crowd arrived on Wednesday night for my alternative Valentine presentation.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /><br /></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I baked heart shaped Southern cheese biscuits. A few of them died in the flaming fires called The Timer Did Not Go Off Fires. But thankfully most survived.</span></b></span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dZ9OYQ56ico..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dZ9OYQ56ico..." height="400" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Superhero Volunteers kept a private stash under the table.</span></b></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cBYJD4ZGv9c..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P8UdgvdAeU8..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P8UdgvdAeU8..." height="640" width="360" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">And to quench the thirst brought about by the salty cheddar and hot cayenne, the good people at <a href="http://uk.hendricksgin.com/" target="_blank">Hendrick's Gin</a> sent over a load of goodness. GIN PUNCH!</span></b></span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-leO1NNd7xJU..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-leO1NNd7xJU..." height="480" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">The same Superhero Volunteers created this beautiful table brightened by Valentine cards made by <a href="http://lozzybonesart.com/" target="_blank">Lozzy Bones Art</a> - alternatively smashing.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></b></span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I1NW1AH6CNs..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I1NW1AH6CNs..." height="640" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xcZtpQAq8BU..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I brought along a heart that I had made especially for the evening, full of marshmallow and covered in edible rose petals.</span></span></b><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xcZtpQAq8BU..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xcZtpQAq8BU..." height="640" width="480" /></a></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xcZtpQAq8BU..." style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">We gave the skeleton a heart transplant.  I grabbed a chunk from this specimen and chewed a mouthful during my presentation, to illustrate a point about eating one’s heart out.</span></b></span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UaaDNo3dSqE..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UaaDNo3dSqE..." height="640" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">All of these hearty things occurred due to the tireless work of the woman on the left, whose name, and I really mean this, is Carla Valentine, the curator of Barts.</span></b></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gmRByE1yVKk..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gmRByE1yVKk..." height="444" width="640" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">An interview with Carla will soon be posted on this blog.  To say she’s an interesting woman would be an understatement.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"><br /><br /></span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>After all the snacking and drinking the audience settled in their seats and the room went dark – both literally and otherwise when I began my presentation on...</b></span></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fSNR3kJZ4xQ..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fSNR3kJZ4xQ..." height="360" width="640" /></a></span></div><br /><br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Afterwards, the wonderful people from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Waters..." target="_blank">Waterstones London Wall</a> kindly sold the first copies of the UK paperback edition of my memoir THE UNDERTAKER'S DAUGHTER, which was mighty good of them.</span></span></b><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0NKUKu-L8w..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0NKUKu-L8w..." height="640" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Happy Alternative Valentine’s Day</span></b></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zM8aIdfMxw8..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zM8aIdfMxw8..." height="450" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>

JANUARY 2015 IS PUBLICATION MONTH IN THE STATES FORTHE UNDERTAKER'S DAUGHTER
I'm a bit excited...





I thought it would be a good time to do a round up of all the strange and unique locations in which my book events were held in the UK in 2014. Gallery Books has hosted the story on their XOXO After Dark site and it can be read HERE.

GHOST WRITING FOR CHRISTMAS






Please find my Christmas post on Gallery Books' XOXO After Dark website here.







 <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; color:black; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} </style><br />--> <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>MY TERRIFYING THANKSGIVING</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’d been living in New York for three years. I survived a slap in the face from a complete stranger on drugs, three years of school at the Academy of Dramatic Arts, the demise of a relationship, an attempted mugging and an unfriendly landlord. What next, I wondered.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I received a call from one of the executives at the Academy offering me the opportunity of an audition. I stifled a squeal and said yes of course thank you very much. The address was a bit odd; not the normal stage door, or even a West Side casting director’s office. All I knew is that the audition had something to do with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Yippee.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5OtqZSYy8xU..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5OtqZSYy8xU..." height="360" width="640" /></a></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I arrived at a Mad Man’s office: Big desk, perfectly pressed shirt, gleaming hair, intimidating. He invited me to sit down to talk about Raggedy Ann. Did I know of her? What did I think of her? Yes, of course I knew of her and, “I think she’s just adorable, a gift to children the world over,” I say.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">How would I like to be Raggedy Ann in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade? $200 for my trouble. Why yes, I certainly would. Immediately I imagined myself glowing from a stellar makeup job revealing Raggedy Ann-ness, waving from a huge float, appearing child-friendly and adored by every toddler in Manhattan. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_zUtnXjTL_g..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_zUtnXjTL_g..." height="394" width="640" /></a></span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This was a far cry from my first ever paying job – playing the organ for funerals in my father’s funeral home.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I arrived at West 69^th Street at awfully early o’clock on Thursday morning wearing my disappointingly just okay costume. Underneath I wore a pair of 80-year-old man longjohns. No fool I, there was sure to be a breeze on that float. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">There was no Raggedy Ann float. I would be walking in the parade. There was no makeup artist. Instead, I went slack-jawed to see a representative making his way towards me carrying a massive head in his arms. My head. My Raggedy Ann papier-mâché head, the size of a city block. Just as I was adjusting to this remarkable change in circumstances, a wild-eyed young man staggers over reeking of the previous night’s alcohol binge and announces himself as Raggedy Andy. Another representative quickly hides his unshaven face in the Andy version of the papier-mâché monstrosity.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Suddenly the thumping drums of high school bands, the blaring noise of organized chaos is muted. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W68Ooa9gYS8..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W68Ooa9gYS8..." height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">What had once been my view of hundreds of feet now became inches with no peripheral vision. It was like trying to function inside a tree trunk.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Off we go! Andy grabs my hand and jerks me along; on and on we skip down the streets of New York sandwiched between two floats filled with celebrities, comfortable in their special seats.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lsgU3Vagd-E..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lsgU3Vagd-E..." height="480" width="640" /></a></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Children wave, parents point at us, or no, maybe they’re pointing at the dancers. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lbNkdpzoVuk..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lbNkdpzoVuk..." height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We turn the corners and our section hits the 40’s near Times Square. We enter the Blade Runner version of the parade. Suddenly the sun hides behind a dark sky. I’ve worked up a sweat inside the massive head by skipping half the length of Manhattan in longjohns, which are damp underneath the dress, pinafore and pantaloons. </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">There are three times as many people along this part of the route and most of them are young children herded by comparatively few fully stressed adults. When Raggedy Andy-with-the-hangover and I appear the children go absolutely wild. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-guOePQ9LF4k..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-guOePQ9LF4k..." height="476" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">They scream our names and scream some more. Then they break loose from their parents, scramble under the barriers and Good Great God they are on top of us! Andy and I are separated at once. Children tear at our clothes, they reach up to smack at our huge heads, they hold on to our legs. For one terrifying moment I thought I would be knocked down completely and right there on Thanksgiving morning die a death from child attack on 42^ndstreet.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Say what you will about big burly intimidating New York City policemen, but thank the heavens they were alert to our distress. They pulled the children off us and performed human barrier technique in a very satisfying way.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I never saw Andy again.  It took months to wrangle the $200 from the Mad Man.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy the parade.</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BxfSur_emiw..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BxfSur_emiw..." height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>