In November I wrote a Moustachioed Gent detective novel called ‘Safe’ which was 50,000 words long. Which may explain why there hasn’t been much up here in the past month (although it doesn’t explain my tardiness in October). 1,667 words every day was the target but I still ended up scrambling 13,000 words between Friday evening and Sunday lunchtime. I utilised eight detectives, two black holes and lots of shortbread in my moustachioed quest for the truth. Suzanna Law, whose photographs are often on display here, also completed 50,000 words, though she was finished by Thursday night. Well done Zan.
After the gap I have posted a short, albeit confusing, extract in which the Moustachioed Gent, detective, is calling on Doctor Brian Cantaloupe-Sandwich, victim, and after that a picture of the cake that hung around on my desk for most of Saturday and Sunday, dangling as a reward on completion.
The Moustachioed Gent reached Doctor Brian’s house and could hear as he approached the shouting of sums. “TWENTY NINE TIMES FIVE EQUALS ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN! ONE HUNDRED AND TWO DIVIDED BY TWENTY SIX IS THREE POINT NINE TWO SOMETHING SOMETHING SOMETHING! TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY SEVEN TIMES NINETY EIGHT IS TWENTY SIX THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY SIX!”
He was certainly good at maths, the Moustachioed Gent observed. Maybe that was why he found it so relaxing. Then again, he was good at being a detective but he did not find that too relaxing. He found baths relaxing, and he supposed that he was good at taking baths. It was something to think about some time on in the future.
He knocked on the door and the maths stopped, Doctor Brian opening the door seconds later, grinning and clutching a steaming hot mug of tea. When he saw the Moustachioed Gent the scientist threw the tea out onto the path, the mug smashing to pieces on the pavement, and grabbed the Moustachioed Gent, hugging the spindly detective to his huge ginger fuzzy body and lifting him off his feet in delight.
“You’ve cracked the case!” he shouted. “You’ve done it!”
This confused the Moustachioed Gent and for a moment he was under the impression that something he had said or done along the way had already paid off and lead to Doctor Brian solving the mystery.
“Er, I- Have you?” he asked the grinning scientist.
“You have?” repeated Doctor Brian, letting go of the Moustachioed Gent. They were still on his doorstep.
“No, I don’t know, has something happened?”
“Well, you must know.”
“If something has happened.”
“Well, I, I thought something had happened but-“
“What was all that about then?”
“I’m not sure, you just grabbed me and started celebrating.”
“Ah, yes. I was sure that you were coming with news of a heroic find. Sorry about that, my brain was full of maths. Do come in.” Finally the two men left the doorstep and made their way through to the kitchen.
“I’ll make us a cup of tea whilst you tell me all about it.”
“All about-” the Moustachioed Gent began but quickly stopped. “Um, a cup of tea?”
“Yes, I only had two mugs and one of them’s out there now,” he gestured in the vague direction of the front path. “I’ll make one and we can share it.”
There it is, the monsterpiece, glaring at me from behind the cake. The cake was from Le Hechet Farm in Guernsey, a masterpiece of christmas themed cakesmith and a fudgey delight. Very dark chocolate with crunch biscuit bits in the centre and topped with white chocolate and marzipan holly. The same farm also makes marzipan ice cream. It was well worth the wait.