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convNo, this is clearly NOT a painting by the lovely Milady Muir. For those who do not know it , it is Kinsale in Ireland, the most charmingly quaint fishing village, where the people paint their houses, as one does in fishing villages, I am told.  It is a town of restaurants, I am also told, very popular with the boating fraternity……  Not looking at any of the Book-club members who,  after digesting Milady Ashlin’s book, the kindle it was on too. are now ready ……conv

even Myrtle,


to welcome out next guest, the lovely horror writer, Milady Cavendish. We have seen the lovely Milady Cavendish before. Not with this book though, which has somewhat frightened them into silence.   Milady Cavendish is joining us all the way from Wales,   which is not too far to travel…..

Top of the morning to ye on seeing you in our little stopover today in Kinsale,  in Ireland. Can you tell us something about your journey from your homeland?

Greetings, Milady and thank you for inviting me back. This time, the Irish Sea was a bit rough – a bit like the Bay of Biscay, with Guinness. My cabin was haunted by a vengeful spirit which I had to despatch. Unfortunately, it didn’t like being thrown overboard and climbed back up again. In the process, it disturbed Simon Cowell who was giving Louis Walsh tips on fatherhood. conv

Louis was so scared, his toupee flew off and was last seen adorning the head of a rather surprised seagull. Simon was so irritated by the vengeful spirit’s impression of Lady Gaga that, after first saying, “You’re a saucy little thing, aren’t you”, proclaimed it, “Not relevant!”, bit his pen in two and hoisted up his trousers over his ears.

The best place for them I am sure, when it comes to some hopefuls…… The crew are making you welcome I trust?

Oh yes, indeed, Milady. Although I do wish they would use the Listerine I brought them. Their breath is foul enough to fell an elephant at forty paces.

yes. Alas that is why I have invested in an xpelair, the latest in pirate ship’s accessories. Still, you have brought me a pleasing little gift I see.

Well, on my way here, I passed the Blarney Stone, so of course I had to kiss it. As I dangled over it in the prescribed position – upside down, with my legs in the air and my skirt around my face – I thought, “I bet I know what Her Ladyship would like”. So, here it is. A chip off the old Blarney Stone itself. May you always have the last word with Flint.conv

With a stone of that size I will. Now Milady Cat you have met the charming members of the club. Can you tell us why we should each of us spend a week reading your book?

Miss Abigail’s Room is a Gothic tale of horror and revenge. Here’s what one kind reviewer had to say:
Catherine Cavendish has consistently given me a case of the creepy crawlies with her books and this story is no different. It starts with the blood on the floor and it just gets worse and worse for poor Becky until you don’t know who she should trust or who she should be running from.

And then people start dying.

I don’t want to give anything away so I shall be cautiously vague. I enjoyed watching Becky try to unravel what was going on and I was surprised (in a creeped out way) by the things that happened around her. Having those around you pat you on the head and talk around you like you’re not there is one of those things that gives me the deep down willies. It was horrible and scary and I liked it a lot.

Paranormal horror. There’s nothing more terrifying.

Goodness…. you can see how all the men are cowering already. While I think I have cured Flint of eyeing other women, he is still a great one for eyeing everything else. He calls it booty. Is there anything I should do to disabuse him of helping himself to other people’s boats and their contents?

I’d let him keep it – as long as he gives you the jewels and fine trinkets. I’m sure you will be able to persuade him to part with them – especially as you now have your own little piece of Blarney Stone to help you. As you say, it keeps him away from other women and every man should have an occupation. It stops them getting into mischief.

Mama’s kitchen https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mamas-Kitchen/431002043619495?fref=ts
most thoughtfully provided our fare today–a scary cake–convlargely because the pirates eschew the culinary arts for cutlass waving, drinking and frolicking on shore with wenches. Do you have any tips for making them try at least to help my maid, Susan, in the galley? It is such a task and she gets quite fraught.

I think Susan should withhold their rum rations until they’ve at least done the dishes.

What a wise idea, we just shan’t mention it here since we want you to leave the ship in one piece….

Kinsale is quite a lovely place, what sites do you intend visiting when you leave here? Provided of course, you first sign a disclaimer that you never saw me, or Flint?

Well, the beautiful green countryside, the spectacular views and history all beckon but…I think the first thing I’ll do is have a couple of pints of Guinness. All that salt water has made me really thirsty. Besides, I met this friendly leprechaun and he’s promised to show me his crock of gold. At least, I think that’s what he said…conv

Hmmm, I’d watch that if I were you. That does not look like any crock of gold to me but a  very dodgy empty box…….



Blurb for Miss Abigail’s Room:

It wasn’t so much the blood on the floor that Becky minded. It was the way it kept coming back…

As the lowest ranking parlor maid at Stonefleet Hall, Becky gets all the dirtiest jobs. But the one she hates the most is cleaning Miss Abigail’s room. There’s a strange, empty smell to the place, and a feeling that nothing right or Christian resides there in the mistress’s absence. And then there’s the blood, the spot that comes back no matter often Becky scrubs it clean. Becky wishes she had somewhere else to go, but without means or a good recommendation from her household, there is nothing for her outside the only home she’s known for eighteen years. So when a sickening doll made of wax and feathers turns up, Becky’s dreams of freedom and green grass become even more distant. Until the staff members start to die.

A darning needle though the heart of the gruesome doll puts everyone at Stonefleet Hall at odds. The head parlor maid seems like someone else, the butler pretends nothing’s amiss, and everyone thinks Becky’s losing her mind. But when the shambling old lord of the manor looks at her, why does he scream as though he’s seen the hounds of hell?

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