Robin's Unpublished Novels
@robinsriches.bsky.social
Quotes from decades-old unpublished novels.
Pinned
"Said it to myself a thousand times. Good name to say over and over."
"Tony Holton, Tony Holton, yes -- it's the assonance."
"Tony Holton, Tony Holton, yes -- it's the assonance."
Reposted by Robin's Unpublished Novels
February 4, 2025 at 11:03 AM
I could always tell by the unconscious little changes in their behaviour towards me. They could not conceal their knowledge, however kind they were, however high-minded. #LetThereBeLight
January 31, 2025 at 8:55 AM
I could always tell by the unconscious little changes in their behaviour towards me. They could not conceal their knowledge, however kind they were, however high-minded. #LetThereBeLight
So I didn't tell anybody. Not a soul. But it soon became obvious to me that everybody knew. #LetThereBeLight
January 30, 2025 at 11:29 PM
So I didn't tell anybody. Not a soul. But it soon became obvious to me that everybody knew. #LetThereBeLight
"Said it to myself a thousand times. Good name to say over and over."
"Tony Holton, Tony Holton, yes -- it's the assonance."
"Tony Holton, Tony Holton, yes -- it's the assonance."
January 18, 2025 at 12:03 PM
"Said it to myself a thousand times. Good name to say over and over."
"Tony Holton, Tony Holton, yes -- it's the assonance."
"Tony Holton, Tony Holton, yes -- it's the assonance."
"Be more patient. What's his name again?"
"Tony Holton."
"There you are, you see. You remember things extremely well when you really want to."
"Tony Holton."
"There you are, you see. You remember things extremely well when you really want to."
January 18, 2025 at 12:03 PM
"Be more patient. What's his name again?"
"Tony Holton."
"There you are, you see. You remember things extremely well when you really want to."
"Tony Holton."
"There you are, you see. You remember things extremely well when you really want to."
"Look -- if I'm so spoilt by them where's that wonderful new playmate my own age they promised me?"
"Give them time, dear."
"They've had ages, mum, ages."
"Give them time, dear."
"They've had ages, mum, ages."
January 18, 2025 at 12:03 PM
"Look -- if I'm so spoilt by them where's that wonderful new playmate my own age they promised me?"
"Give them time, dear."
"They've had ages, mum, ages."
"Give them time, dear."
"They've had ages, mum, ages."
I came back tardily with, "It's good they haven't started getting any different."
"They spoil you, pic."
"Not me, mum. Not me they don't. I wouldn't let 'em."
"Be off, scallywag! You'd fasten on them if you could."
"They spoil you, pic."
"Not me, mum. Not me they don't. I wouldn't let 'em."
"Be off, scallywag! You'd fasten on them if you could."
January 18, 2025 at 12:02 PM
I came back tardily with, "It's good they haven't started getting any different."
"They spoil you, pic."
"Not me, mum. Not me they don't. I wouldn't let 'em."
"Be off, scallywag! You'd fasten on them if you could."
"They spoil you, pic."
"Not me, mum. Not me they don't. I wouldn't let 'em."
"Be off, scallywag! You'd fasten on them if you could."
"The Drummonds are saints," she eventually opines. Then with a dreamy eye roaming in my vicinity, giving me leave to linger, she continues, "Their loving kindness, it's never artificial, is it, never forced. Always perfectly natural, fluent, spontaneous."
"Yes -- not gushing types, dad says."
"Yes -- not gushing types, dad says."
January 18, 2025 at 12:02 PM
"The Drummonds are saints," she eventually opines. Then with a dreamy eye roaming in my vicinity, giving me leave to linger, she continues, "Their loving kindness, it's never artificial, is it, never forced. Always perfectly natural, fluent, spontaneous."
"Yes -- not gushing types, dad says."
"Yes -- not gushing types, dad says."
"Rather read than weed."
"Off with your jumper."
"Mum," letting her slip it off me without hindrance. "D'you still think them wonderful, the Drummonds?"
"Off with your jumper."
"Mum," letting her slip it off me without hindrance. "D'you still think them wonderful, the Drummonds?"
January 18, 2025 at 12:01 PM
"Rather read than weed."
"Off with your jumper."
"Mum," letting her slip it off me without hindrance. "D'you still think them wonderful, the Drummonds?"
"Off with your jumper."
"Mum," letting her slip it off me without hindrance. "D'you still think them wonderful, the Drummonds?"
One day mum catches me gazing out of the window at their house.
"End of peek-a-boo," she says. "Back to your reading. Where are you stuck? Then back to wee crazy."
January 5, 2025 at 9:02 PM
One day mum catches me gazing out of the window at their house.
"End of peek-a-boo," she says. "Back to your reading. Where are you stuck? Then back to wee crazy."
I'm captivated by the Drummonds. Taken to with open arms, sure of a jubilant welcome every time, I love them all, of course, and whenever with them hate having to part, for I can never see enough of them, kept in as I often am, bored and pining for other company.
January 5, 2025 at 9:02 PM
I'm captivated by the Drummonds. Taken to with open arms, sure of a jubilant welcome every time, I love them all, of course, and whenever with them hate having to part, for I can never see enough of them, kept in as I often am, bored and pining for other company.
Or their dear old white-bearded father may come out to take the air, either wheeled out for a ride in his chair or tottering along solo on his own intrepid feet.
January 5, 2025 at 8:56 PM
Or their dear old white-bearded father may come out to take the air, either wheeled out for a ride in his chair or tottering along solo on his own intrepid feet.
-- a likewise tightly-hatted ready-smiling lady bent on disseminating universal benediction.
January 5, 2025 at 4:33 PM
-- a likewise tightly-hatted ready-smiling lady bent on disseminating universal benediction.
Or it might be her buxom sister Winifred you see, the smiling cook, setting out tightly-hatted for the shops or coming back fully laden, her ordinary step solicitously adjusted should she happen to have their silver-headed mother along
January 5, 2025 at 4:32 PM
Or it might be her buxom sister Winifred you see, the smiling cook, setting out tightly-hatted for the shops or coming back fully laden, her ordinary step solicitously adjusted should she happen to have their silver-headed mother along
Quite likely, if you look out, knowing something about the Drummonds, you will spot Dora at work at her drawing-board ensconced in the angle of the upper bay window, or she may be down in their square of front garden picking flowers or mowing the grass or clipping away at the small beech hedgerow.
January 5, 2025 at 12:59 PM
Quite likely, if you look out, knowing something about the Drummonds, you will spot Dora at work at her drawing-board ensconced in the angle of the upper bay window, or she may be down in their square of front garden picking flowers or mowing the grass or clipping away at the small beech hedgerow.
You can see it perfectly from our drawing-room window, but less so from mum and dad's bedroom window because the bushy top of the nearest of the small rowan trees that lined the pavements at intervals is somewhat in the way.
January 5, 2025 at 12:58 PM
You can see it perfectly from our drawing-room window, but less so from mum and dad's bedroom window because the bushy top of the nearest of the small rowan trees that lined the pavements at intervals is somewhat in the way.
The talk is all about the good deed doers -- Winifred and Dora Drummond, spinsters, and their elderly parents -- but when I seem to be too tired to pay much attention I am packed off to bed.
Next day, their house is pointed out to me.
Next day, their house is pointed out to me.
January 5, 2025 at 12:29 PM
The talk is all about the good deed doers -- Winifred and Dora Drummond, spinsters, and their elderly parents -- but when I seem to be too tired to pay much attention I am packed off to bed.
Next day, their house is pointed out to me.
Next day, their house is pointed out to me.
One by one the sweet pea-patterned tea things are very carefully washed up and then arranged on the draining board just as carefully, like a still life.
Edging me away, dad dries, so that the still life finds itself diminishing faster than it can be built up.
January 4, 2025 at 4:58 PM
One by one the sweet pea-patterned tea things are very carefully washed up and then arranged on the draining board just as carefully, like a still life.
Edging me away, dad dries, so that the still life finds itself diminishing faster than it can be built up.
Collected later by dad, I glimpse only the remains of the wonderful tea; two little cairns of red-stained jam stones being scraped off sweet pea-patterned china into the garbage, followed by several flicks of particoloured crumbs, the large scrumptious white ones puffy as snowflakes.
January 4, 2025 at 4:57 PM
Collected later by dad, I glimpse only the remains of the wonderful tea; two little cairns of red-stained jam stones being scraped off sweet pea-patterned china into the garbage, followed by several flicks of particoloured crumbs, the large scrumptious white ones puffy as snowflakes.
Collapse of mum.
I miss out. Bobbing* young boy as I am, nuisance that I might be, I've been dumped out of the way at godmother's for the day.
*author was known as "Bobby" as a boy
January 4, 2025 at 4:56 PM
Collapse of mum.
I miss out. Bobbing* young boy as I am, nuisance that I might be, I've been dumped out of the way at godmother's for the day.
*author was known as "Bobby" as a boy
It is a lady -- right. And the mission a charitable one -- right.
But the boot of the charity, so to speak, is on the other foot.
This lady is our neighbour from across the road. Having seen what's going on and imagined all the difficulties, they've thought to bring a tray of tea across.
But the boot of the charity, so to speak, is on the other foot.
This lady is our neighbour from across the road. Having seen what's going on and imagined all the difficulties, they've thought to bring a tray of tea across.
January 4, 2025 at 12:13 PM
It is a lady -- right. And the mission a charitable one -- right.
But the boot of the charity, so to speak, is on the other foot.
This lady is our neighbour from across the road. Having seen what's going on and imagined all the difficulties, they've thought to bring a tray of tea across.
But the boot of the charity, so to speak, is on the other foot.
This lady is our neighbour from across the road. Having seen what's going on and imagined all the difficulties, they've thought to bring a tray of tea across.
Who can it be? Certainly not the gas man back again, or not at any rate the same bluff rollicking one who cuffed and walloped the faulty meter.
Probably some well-off and depressingly well-spoken, indefeasible lady with a collecting box and a heart-rending spiel.
Mum answers the door.
January 4, 2025 at 12:13 PM
Who can it be? Certainly not the gas man back again, or not at any rate the same bluff rollicking one who cuffed and walloped the faulty meter.
Probably some well-off and depressingly well-spoken, indefeasible lady with a collecting box and a heart-rending spiel.
Mum answers the door.
Rat-tittitty-rat-tat rat-tat!
All that. But not banged out in vulgar or officious haste. Far from it -- tapped out very gently and very slowly, almost gradually, with such self-negation as seem at odds with the signal form assumed.
January 3, 2025 at 7:28 PM
Rat-tittitty-rat-tat rat-tat!
All that. But not banged out in vulgar or officious haste. Far from it -- tapped out very gently and very slowly, almost gradually, with such self-negation as seem at odds with the signal form assumed.
Put the kettle on.
It can't be true when dad declares the milk undrinkable and mum espies an earwig in the sugar. Whatever now?
As if in answer the strangely deep sound of our now very own door-knocker, a gnarled and lumpish black-painted iron crescent, reaches their ears.
January 3, 2025 at 7:27 PM
Put the kettle on.
It can't be true when dad declares the milk undrinkable and mum espies an earwig in the sugar. Whatever now?
As if in answer the strangely deep sound of our now very own door-knocker, a gnarled and lumpish black-painted iron crescent, reaches their ears.
What if chaos still reigns? It's all damned that fiddling and twiddling in situ upstairs and down that takes the time (not de-throning chaos but de-kinking curtains and de-rucking carpets) and with the worst of that behind them, at long last they're home and they know it.
Tea time.
January 3, 2025 at 7:26 PM
What if chaos still reigns? It's all damned that fiddling and twiddling in situ upstairs and down that takes the time (not de-throning chaos but de-kinking curtains and de-rucking carpets) and with the worst of that behind them, at long last they're home and they know it.
Tea time.