10 THINGS PROMPT

10 Things You Didn’t Know About Me

Time travel, a serial killer, an obsession with other people’s money

I planned to mention animals. We’ve shared our home with a variety over the years. But on reflection, I’ve written reams already, making them hard to count as “things you didn’t know”. But they must figure somewhere so I’ve let the geese take over the photo much as they took over the garden, the pond, and our lives during the time we had them.

I’ve enjoyed reading these posts from others, some of whom were kind enough to tag me, so here are my 10 things you don’t (or maybe do) know about me.

1. Parenting skills — I might not have any:

It is said that “Taking care of a doll strengthens caring and nurturing skills” in small children. I choose not to believe that the way children treat their dolls is a guide to their later skills as a parent because if I believed it, I would be in trouble.

I built a spaceship for one of my dolls when I was about 6. When it proved too small, I did what I had to, to make the doll fit — I removed its arms.

2. Writing competitions — 2 wins frame my writing career:

I won my first writing competition when I was 9 — I still have the certificate. My biggest win came 40 or so years later with a Crime Writers’ Dagger for one of my Private Investigator series novels.

3. Modern history’s most prolific serial killer — my part in his downfall:

Well, not exactly — I’m borrowing from Spike Milligan for this header. In my first role as a software engineer in the 1980s, I was one of two developers on a new GP records system. I saw it through from an embryo prototype to a commercial venture.

It was a system that later found fame providing key evidence in the case against the most prolific serial killer in modern history. You can look him up on the link but I prefer not to name mass killers.

His killing spree lasted 27 years; he killed 218 people for sure, but there are an estimated 250 in total. Some of the crimes were too old for there to be definitive evidence.

When an investigation was opened into the death of his last victim, Kathleen Grundy, he tried to cover his tracks by falsifying her medical records. Once the details came out, I knew just how he had tried to lay a false trail and how the IT forensics team had uncovered his meddling — I was more than familiar with the coding of that part of the system.

My later work as a health scientist took me to Manchester where I met several people whose relatives had been killed by this man. His suicide in prison robbed them of both an explanation and any hope of seeing remorse. I only wish they’d found him sooner.

4. Stepping into the past — I can time travel:

Once when I was 10, I persuaded a credulous school friend that we had travelled into the past.

We were playing in a local park where we had met Jane, a girl our own age, the previous day. Having told Credulous Friend that I had sensed a time shift, I singled out a small girl sitting outside the cafe with her mother.

“That’s Jane. She won’t remember us. She’s only 5 now.”

Credulous Friend, keen to believe me — it was a good adventure after all — turned to the little girl and demanded, “What’s your name?” The small child squeaked out, “Nicky.” Nicky’s mother gave Credulous Friend and me a suspicious glare — not surprising as we were openly scrutinising them and whispering behind our hands.

The response of “Nicky” put my imagination into overdrive as I hastily concocted a scenario in which the Jane we’d met the day before had been called Nicky up to the age of 8.

But before I could embark on an explanation that even Credulous Friend would have balked at, she turned to me wide-eyed and said in hushed tones, “She says she’s called Jane. That proves it.” It was a useful early lesson that people will hear what they want to hear.

Many years later, I participated in an experiment where an indistinct recording was played. I heard what everyone else heard, faint sounds drowned in static. The next part of the recording had words behind it — could we distinguish them? No, we couldn’t, though it was clear there was a voice. It was played again but this time we were told what words were being spoken. Once I knew what I was listening for the words were clear. The next part of the recording revealed a different phrase, also clear once we knew what it was.

You’ll be ahead of me here I’m sure …

We had been listening to the same recording each time. There were no words, just indistinct noises, but we all heard with surprising clarity what we were told we would hear. Other groups heard different phrases equally clearly in the same recording.

Humans have a tendency to impose familiar interpretations on things they sense. The phenomenon is called pareidolia. When the stimulus is sound and the expectation is to hear words, people will interpret random sounds as voices and will hear words spoken in their own language.

I’m drifting down a rabbit hole here — back to Credulous Friend and our time-slip adventure.

Things became complicated when she started to worry about going home 5 years ago — something to do with homework and an altercation with her brother — but it turned out that crossing the main road shifted us back to the present. Luckily, I had taken meticulous notice of the leaf pattern on a particular tree — or something equally unlikely — and was able to reassure her that we were back in the present.

As a bonus 4.5, I spend too much time in rabbit holes: I will be off down them at the drop of a hat. I’ve written about it before.

5. Other people’s money — I get a bit obsessed over it:

I gave hundreds of thousands of writers millions of pounds, or anyway oversaw the process when I was chair of a collecting society. It still rankles that so many writers don’t know that their work is earning this money behind the scenes and it should be in their pockets. I’m always nagging people about it. If I’ve failed to nag you so far, check this out and get your hands on that money:

6. Literary Agents — I’ve had several but never been the star client:

I’ve shared literary agents with Val McDermid, two UK Prime Ministers, and Hilary Mantel. I never met Hilary Mantel, I encountered one of the PMs in passing, and once had dinner with Val McDermid and her partner, a delightful and very entertaining couple.

7. Dodgy cars and a racehorse — I’ve had near misses with both:

I have spent a lot of time in the Peak District — it’s lovely. Visit if you get the chance. These two incidents occurred about 5 years apart.

• I drove down a steep road in a car whose handbrake was purely ornamental and my brakes failed.
• I rode a racehorse that had no brakes at all.

In both cases, I experienced the shock of rapidly accelerating whilst being out of control of where I was going to end up. The racehorse owner shouted after me, “He’ll stop when he gets to a wall.” It was scant consolation; walls are few and far between on the Peak District moors.

There was no one to shout anything in the car, other than me and “AAAGH!” In panic mode, I tried to make a split-second decision between the ditch or trying to negotiate a fast-approaching hairpin bend.

After a mile or so, the racehorse and I came to a wall. It was a tiny, broken down sort of a wall — I could have jumped it myself — but as promised he stopped. The car and I ended up in the ditch. No injuries in either case, not counting another dent in the car.

It didn’t put me off driving or riding because in each case it really was my own damned fault. Unlike the time I was knocked off my motorbike. The realisation that there was nothing I could have done differently to have prevented what happened put me off motorbikes for life.

8. Flying — I once sat in the cockpit during a flight to Paris:

It was an awesome experience and not one I’ll be able to repeat. Since 911, there’s no point even asking. Travelling in the sky feels somewhat free-for-all but the pilots showed me how things are divided in much the way roads are down below. I can’t remember now if you should keep right or left when flying up or down the country, but as I’m never going to be at the wheel, that’s not a problem.

They let me stay for the landing. I sat on a jump seat between the two pilots and watched the runway grow from an impossibly small line of lights to a viable landing strip. I learned oddments of stuff I didn’t even know I didn’t know, like how do you steer a plane on the ground — clearly the ‘steering wheels’ they use in flight are designed for 3D motion, tipping wings, and things like that; they don’t turn the wheels.

A friend once managed to get into the cockpit for a takeoff. That’s one ambition of mine that will remain unfulfilled. I’m also not expecting to get to the International Space Station — and am probably past my sell-by date for that sort of journey — although my alter-ego Melodie Trudeaux is a big space travel geek, and should she get to go, I will of course go with her.

9. Leadership roles — I’ve had some unexpected ones:

My first leadership role was one I didn’t know I held until someone apologised for me. More on that in a moment.

I was president of a trade union branch for several years, and chair of a multimillion-pound company for another few years, and I’ve done stints as CEO, COO, and CFO in smaller companies. They’ve all had their perks and been satisfying positions, but oh my goodness, they've been hard and demanding roles.

I like to think I’m a tolerant person but I’ve come away with total intolerance for people in these roles who won’t face the responsibilities of the job. When I see people taking the salary and perks, but not doing their homework and shying away from difficult decisions, it gets me very cross.

I could name and shame presidents and prime ministers on the international stage as well as managers at all levels in companies and organisations. Some people just want the title on their CV. They want to have been top dog but don’t like the work of actually being top dog. Well — too bad!

If you can’t be bothered to do the work, then you’ve no right to the perks — get out of the damned job.

I was only 8 or 9 when I landed my first leadership role. I found myself the leader of a gang. There were only 4 of us. I didn’t even know we were a gang, let alone that we had a leader until a potential new member was brought along to meet us. I recall the newcomer as a large boy with fearsome scars, but he was probably our age and mud-streaked. I was introduced thus:

I’m sorry but our leader is a girl.

The new boy didn’t last long. Maybe the ignominy of being led by a girl was too much. When meeting misogyny in later life — and believe me, it’s alive and well at all levels — I can spot the people who would still like to introduce me that way. It’s a useful gauge.

10. Becoming a novelist — I said I would and I did:

I announced my intention to be a novelist when I was 4 — I may have used the term “write stories”; I’m not sure I knew the word novelist back then. 40-something years later, a publisher accepted one of the 25 or so novels I’d written by then. It would be a stretch to call it an overnight success, but I got there.

If you’ve read all the way down to here, thank you. I found myself on quite a journey writing this. Some people managed this task in a crisp 10-step list with no rabbit holes. That’s more than I did and I’m not sure that it sheds much light, but if nothing else, I feel I’ve learned something about myself in doing it.

Here are some “10 things you didn’t know” stories that caught my eye. And special thanks to those who tagged me in theirs and gave me the push I needed to do one of my own.

From Susan Alison

From Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles

From Will Hull

From Barb Dalton 🇺🇦

From Adrienne Beaumont

Here are some people whose “10” stories I’d love to read and haven’t yet. It’s possible I just haven’t found them — if that’s the case, please leave a link in the comments so I can go and read them:

Ellie Jacobson, Dunelair, Dennett, pockett dessert, Mary Chang Story Writer, Kris Bedenian, Kim Zuch, Jennifer Pierce, Stuart Aken, Linda Acaster, Pene Hodge, Diana Lotti, Nicole Anders, Danielle Hestand, Madeleine McDonald, David Perlmutter, Judy Derby.

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