"Meyrick, Murders and Memories", St Columba’s Church Hall, Stewarton. Thursday 12th February, 2026

An evening in memory of author Denzil Meyrick, from a suggestion by Quintin Jardine, organised by Douglas Skelton and his wife, Sarah, of the Book Nook, Stewarton. 

When I told Caro Ramsay that my wife and I were attending this event, she asked if I could do her a favour. She was now unable to attend, so could we help by taking Alex Gray along? 

No problem. I jumped at the chance of sharing the journey with the esteemed crime writer.

What I hadn't factored in when organising timings was how unfamiliar I was with Stewarton, especially in the dark. Although we arrived on schedule, I couldn't find the church car park and ended up driving around. At one point, while waiting at traffic lights, Alex flung open her passenger door and shouted across to a young girl passing by if she knew where the church was. Having been given directions, we made a couple of turns and entered the small car park where the hall is located. No spaces left, though, except for a disabled one, so we dropped Alex off and drove to find a space elsewhere, locating one on a nearby street.

By the time we returned, the hall was packed, with over a hundred attendees. The staff had to set out two more chairs for us at the back. 

The heartfelt tributes from the authors present and those who contributed via pre-recorded videos repeated the same message: he was a good friend, would always be there to help, and no one was spared his wicked sense of humour. Everyone expressed their sense of loss, missing him dearly. He touched so many hearts with his friendship, generosity, and writing.

It wasn't a sad occasion, though. Many of the authors, especially Douglas, shared funny anecdotes and examples of what Denzil was like, even when they were the butt of his jokes.

A quiz and an auction were held to raise money for the British Heart Foundation. 

The only issue on the night was the acoustics in the hall when the videos were played. It was sometimes difficult to make out what the contributors were saying, especially Caro, whose message was partially drowned out by the waves behind her. 

I didn't feel the need to photograph the event, but I took this one at the end. I could have magicked out the lady and her camera (bottom left), but Douglas's legs might have looked funny.   

(L-R) Douglas and Sarah Skelton, Quintin Jardine, Alex Kane,
Fiona Meyrick, Alex Gray, Morgan Cry (rear), Olga Wojtas, Michael J Malone 

When we dropped Alex home again, after discussing her literary tastes, her life as a teacher, and her love of St Mirren FC, she kindly gave my wife her proof copy of "The Christmas Stocking Murders", which also contained the memorial's running order. She gave me a bottle of wine. What a lovely woman!

Running Order

   

Waterstones Presents "An Evening with Caro Ramsay, Michael J Malone & Douglas Skelton", PrimaVera Bistro, Newton Mearns. Tuesday 10th October, 2023

Photo trimmed from Waterstones Newton Mearns FB page

As a fan of crime fiction and a friend of Caro, I attended this Waterstones event at the PrimaVera Bistro in the shopping mall, Newton Mearns. It featured Caro with Douglas Skelton and Michael J Malone, promoting their books, The Devil Stone, Children of the Mist and The Murmurs, respectively.

The banter (as we call it in the West of Scotland) was top form, covering a wide range of topics, such as how they got into crime writing and why Scotland is such a good setting for crime fiction. The quiet but substantial, respectful audience enjoyed their hour in the trio's company.

Afterwards, I purchased Michael's book. Why not the other two, you ask? Well, I already have Children of the Mist on my Kindle and own a signed copy of the hardback version of Caro's book.

I have to admit I prefer to read books on my Kindle. I can adjust the font size to accommodate my eyesight, I can look up unfamiliar words using the built-in dictionary and I can still read in bed after my wife has put the bedroom light out. The only downside is the beautiful covers are in black and white on my Paperwhite.

My wife goes nuts when I buy physical books because she knows I rarely read them. We've bookshelves full of signed editions with unbroken spines cluttering her room now that mine is full of other junk. 

In my defence, I like to support the bookshops that host the event because, without sales, they'll go out of business. I'm also encouraging them to keep running the events so I get to hear and meet my favourite authors. Plus, I have a tiny dream that one day I'll see one of my own books for sale in such a place so it is important to keep them open.  

The book is a physical memento of the evening, and getting it signed is a lovely bonus. However, without fail, when it comes to making small talk with an author, I always become tongue-tied.  It’s like I’m suddenly starstruck by this amazing person who has actually written a book and had it published by a proper publisher (in the case of these seasoned authors, multiple times). My brain grasps for information it can’t recall and I struggle to form coherent sentences. What does come out is often embarrassing and unfunny and I want to shrivel into a little ball and roll away. 

After one book event at Bloody Scotland, I once asked AA Dhand if he'd paid his fees yet. In retrospect, I can see why he looked confused. In my head, this was my way of telling him I was a pharmacist too but this was a book event and he was there as an author so why would he expect to receive a pharmacy-related question. It didn't help that, seeing his confusion, I fluffed my follow-up, blabbering on about, you know, that thing with the form and the CPD, unable to remember the terms registration or revalidation.  When eventually he twigged, he said "Ah, you're a pharmacist," like that explained everything. He then answered that he hadn't as they weren't due to be paid till the end of October. I'd just received my reminder that mine were due by the end of September so I told him I thought he was wrong. He was certain he was correct but signed my book anyway and once again I wanted to die. 

It turned out we were both right. There are two deadlines, depending on whether you pay in full or in instalments via Direct Debit.  

My brain went into meltdown again tonight. Michael made every effort to personalise the experience and I floundered, lazy brain kicking in big-style, only half remembering where we'd met before. When I mentioned I was in Caro's writing group, he asked what I was writing and I couldn't remember my pitch for School of Thought, failing to describe it or sell it with any conviction. Nor could I describe the previous aborted work he thought he might have heard of.  

On the drive home, I cogitated over why I couldn't chat like a normal person (beyond the obvious answer of not being normal).

I decided the starstruck thing is definitely true but it might also be due to the pressure of the queue, not wanting to delay another reader from getting their moment with the author. There is also the artificiality of the situation where the author wants to impress his reader but not take too long so everyone can be satisfied. It's something I need to work on. For the moment though, I remain the befuddled, anonymous punter with a signed book sitting on my wife's bookshelf should I ever need to remind myself what my name is.