The jumper

THE JUMPER, worn by somebody or another.

Black and white. Or navy and cream? Chunky, practical, ratty, bobbly. Definitely Faroese. Stabbed in the shoulder, but since recovered.

The new star

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In Basel (not Brüges)

Sam Spade investigates (Humphrey Bogart smoulders) in The Maltese Falcon, 1941.

“When I see you turn the corner, I will know the target is coming just behind,” he said, “and then I will begin shooting.” It was my first day on the job and I wanted everything spelled out clearly.

“Won’t they mind?” I asked. But my concerns were brushed aside. This was Switzerland, nobody gets excited here, except, sometimes about football.

I had been roped in to help a private detective with some surveillance.

A new story

It’s the best way to put off finishing your book – come up with an idea for a new one. You feel much better putting down ideas and scenes and fragments of conversation for the new one. It doesn’t feel like avoidance at all. Which it is. But in a good way.

So I’m at that excited stage. The slog is some way off. There’ll be some research, but it’s manageable.

It has a name