Robert Hugill
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Everything posted by Robert Hugill
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allus is a colloquial pronunciation for 'always'
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Cooking with Ian On Monday, I dropped into Ian’s with a list for him to get from the Co-op. Then on Tuesday, I appeared at his back door, ready for our cooking lesson. Or as ready as I would ever be. Though looking at him, I am not sure who was the more nervous. I had had a few qualms, but had offered because I assumed Ian was at least familiar with a kitchen and simply needed a bit of encouragement. Then in a panic I had started worrying that he was indeed a complete incompetent in th
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Matthew likes the guy, just not in that way
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Matthew likes the guy, just not in that way
I have another six or so chapters waiting to be tidied up! -
Ian’s oven Saturday morning, I did a few chores around the house, mindful that I only had a few days before Tom might appear. But I allowed myself a little treat. I was toying with ideas for another Chrys & Ralphie book, along with something for adults. Maybe. So I did a little sketching. Well, more than a little, if truth be told. Then I heard knocking at the back door. Ian. I had persuaded him that as we were friends, he didn’t need to stand on ceremony and should use
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Beware powerful men with bees in their bonnet This job was turning into a complete bust. Verdomde pech! Damned bad luck, or worse. Thomas Englert sat in his boring hotel room in Northampton and brooded. His English was good, and he used the language most of the time when working. But sometimes cursing in his native Flemish was what was needed, and this was one of those times. At least the hotel was adequate and anonymous; no-one questioned his persona of the foreign busin
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Thanks, I do hope that the rest of the story appeals.
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Thank you, I see we made it to No. 5 in the Top 10 Most Read Mystery in the last month
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Perhaps, it leaves the possibility to tempt us.
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The reverse journey was relatively painless. The weather was thankfully dry and clear for once, so that Russ was able to enjoy the glimpses of the hills from the main road, and rather wished he had his own transport to go exploring at will. Next time. Travelling through Dublin proved tedious, with just frustrating glimpses of some of the more historic and picturesque bits, and then he had a long wait at Dublin Airport. Lisa had made him up some sandwiches and other treats, so at least he
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The reason for so many stories is that I had a selection already written so there was an element of catch up. We've caught up now, so progress will be slower but there are more in the pipeline you will be pleased to know. Though only one running 'live' at a time.
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Thanks. This one takes a bit of time for all the characters to line up, I'm afraid. I hope the the Aunt is delighfully toxic!
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Ah but that's always the problems with re-writes isn't it, losing the essencence of the original!
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I had been imagining a modern rewrite of FHB's text to go with it! And to a certain extent it's Louis's imagination running riot.
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Aunt & the baked potatoes I did start to have visitors: contacts and friends dropping in briefly. Most of the people I kept up with (apart from those from Derwent Manor) tended to be London-based and we would catch up when I travelled up for a meeting or for an exhibition. But there were a few who dropped in “just to say hello”, satisfying their curiosity about my new location. The link to my Uncle Vernon made a good story, a nice little quip, whilst The Stables were impressive enoug
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An illuminating New Year’s Eve
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in An illuminating New Year’s Eve
I, and the Pink Singers, were on The Age of Consent but not Hundreds and Thousands! -
“Con was saying you were suggesting we might come over and stay in Parborough?” “Well, it was an idea. I liked the idea of showing you round my area, and there’s always the possibility of a football match.” “Sheffield Wednesday?” Russ shrugged. “They’re not the only team.” “Thing is…” Lisa looked thoughtful. “I don’t want to seem as if we don’t want to it. We definitely do, but we’re a bit limited by dates. If we are going to make this place work as a business, then we
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Not entirely legal? Vernon Martinson, my Uncle Vernon, had been Dad's older brother. A lot older. When I was about 18, he had come back to the UK, having announced that he was retiring from his business and basing himself in the Midlands in order to have an enjoyable retirement. Mother insisted that we should keep in touch, and being as his house was on the way to my art college in Loughborough (it wasn't) that I should drop in. The carrot being that if I made regular visits to see him,
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A walk in the park - 30 December
Robert Hugill commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in A walk in the park - 30 December
Of course the weather is awful. Ireland in December! It was awful when I was there last month! -
“Do these names mean anything to you?” Russ looked at his phone. “Spontini, Marschner, and Balfe?” Con laughed. “Sounds like a dodgy firm of solicitors.” Lisa wrinkled her brow, thinking. “Is this anything to do with the Festival? You were with the singer and his partner last night, and the Festival’s doing an opera by a local boy. I think his name’s Balfe.” Russ laughed. “Well deduced. They’re the composers of the three main operas next year. Cathal and Jamie have talked
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Not quite the same studios, but very much me recycling ideas!
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I drafted the early part of this story before the end sections of Gray and Vince's, and thought it might be rather fun to plonk Eileen in Southwold briefly to see what happened.
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Prologue: Revenge is a dish best served cold He had had his first decent shower and good night’s sleep in ten years, thanks to the good offices of the five-star Le Meridien Hotel. Now he was heading towards a waiting boat and the relative safety of other shores. Ten years in a French prison had aged him, but he still looked distinguished. Dressed once again in a well-tailored suit, he looked worthy of being his father’s successor at the head of his syndicate, his Family. His releas
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When artist and illustrator Louis leaves London and moves to his late uncle’s house in Northamptonshire, his intention is to simplify his life. He didn’t expect a cute painter and his toxic aunt, a burned-out ex who comes to visit but stays, and a grumpy gay policeman, not to mention men from his uncle’s dodgy past who seem to have criminal intentions and an obsession with an ancient artefact.
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To the boys’ eternal disappointment, there was still no snow. Though, thankfully, the rain was intermittent. This meant that on Saturday, after a leisurely breakfast fixed by Con as Lisa was busy working on her latest video, Russ reluctantly agreed to kick a ball around with the two lads. Con had laughed and insisted that they did not need him, and that he had work to do. Frankly, it wasn’t that pleasant. The rain did not quite go away, so there was a dampness in the air. And all of Ru
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Friday morning, Con informed him over breakfast that they had an interlude between storms. With remarkable despatch, they packed up, crammed into the car, and headed off to the beach. It stretched seemingly endless in both directions, with the sea crashing restlessly. There were no facilities, just sea, sand and dunes. The three adults walked, and the boys ran, played games and generally let off steam. The wind whipped up the sand and it stung against their legs. There was no football.
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