Podcasts about Tiptree

Host Jason Blitman talks to Rivers Solomon about their latest book, Model Home, discussing its unique spin on the haunted house genre and the layers of personal and family dynamics within. Guest Gay Reader Margaret Cho shares anecdotes from her eclectic career and childhood experiences growing up in a gay bookstore, all while reflecting on her love for reading. Rivers Solomon writes about life in the margins, where they are much at home. In addition to appearing on the Stonewall Honor List and winning a Firecracker Award, Solomon's debut novel, An Unkindness of Ghosts, was a finalist for Lambda, Hurston/Wright, Otherwise (formerly Tiptree), and Locus Awards. Solomon's second book, The Deep, based on the Hugo-nominated song by the Daveed Diggs–fronted hip-hop group clipping, was the winner of the 2020 Lambda Award and was short-listed for the Nebula, Locus, Hugo, Ignyte, Brooklyn Library Literary, British Fantasy, and World Fantasy Awards. Their work appears in Black Warrior Review, The New York Times, The New York Times Magazine, Guernica, Best American Short Stories, Tor.com, Best American Horror and Dark Fantasy, and elsewhere. A refugee of the transatlantic slave trade, Solomon was born on Turtle Island but currently resides on an isle in an archipelago off the western coast of the Eurasian continent.Margaret Cho Comedian. Actor. Musician. Advocate. Entrepreneur. Five-time Grammy and Emmy nominee.  Margaret Cho's strong voice has been lighting the path for other women, other members of underrepresented groups, other performers, to follow. Her recent television appearances – guest star on Season 2 of The Flight Attendant (HBO Max), guest star on Season 2 of Hacks (HBO Max) and two Netflix is a Joke comedy specials: Stand Out: An LGBTQ+ Celebration and Jane Fonda & Lily Tomlin: Ladies Night Live – have expanded an already wide-ranging career, and her role as the ‘mother hen' in the well-reviewed movie Fire Island solidifies why we all love Margaret in the first place. As a comedian Margaret has been named one of Rolling Stone magazine's 50 Best Stand-Up Comics of All Time, one of Vogue magazine's Top 9 Female Comedians of all time, while CNN chose her as one of the 50 People Who Changed American Comedy.  Thankfully, Margaret has more stories to tell, and her production company, Animal Family Productions, has multiple scripted shows in development for 2022 and beyond.BOOK CLUB!Use code GAYSREADING at checkout to get first book for only $4 + free shipping! Restrictions apply.http://aardvarkbookclub.comWATCH!https://youtube.com/@gaysreadingBOOKS!Check out the list of books discussed on each episode on our Bookshop page: https://bookshop.org/shop/gaysreading MERCH!Purchase your Gays Reading podcast merchandise HERE! https://gaysreading.myspreadshop.com/ FOLLOW!@gaysreading | @jasonblitman CONTACT!hello@gaysreading.com

Join Jenny Rowe (and James Tiptree, Jr.) at the Glasgow Worldcon bar as we discuss the serendipitous way the former learned about the latter, the differing reactions to her one-woman show from SF vs. non-SF audiences, how she managed to nail Tiptree's accent (some of which you'll get to hear), why she ultimately decided not to begin or end the show with a gunshot, how she settled on the structure of her script (and why she decided to leave herself out of the story), the way inhabiting Tiptree affected her feelings about the controversy, why she'd have loved to meet Tiptree but not necessarily want to be her friend, the purpose of the play's moment of audience participation, and much more.

Ken visits the jam factory in Tiptree, Essex, to talk with Farm Manager, Andrey Ivanov and see the latest strawberry harvest for 2024. To buy Tiptree jam and products online: https://bit.ly/43WWdIA == We're delighted to have Gro-rite Horticultural Supplies sponsoring World Radio Gardening, find out about automatic pot watering systems available for mail order delivery: bit.ly/3wCPyHy For 2024, World Radio Gardening is planning a series of 4 exclusive newsletters. These will be loaded with extra special content and deals for you as a gardener. Make sure you don't miss out by signing up today via sign-up page: bit.ly/3RWwhYR The first newsletter is out now here: bit.ly/3TfbXT1 – don't miss the next one! Also, don't forget – if you like what we do, why not tip Ken and team with a coffee – Buy us a coffee (bit.ly/48RLP75) – as a thank you for the work done to bring this website to life.

Join biographer Julie Phillips for Jӓgerschnitzel as we discuss why she called The Baby on the Fire Escape "a weird hybrid monster of a book," the one thing she regrets not researching more thoroughly for her Tiptree bio, the reason there's more space for the reader in a biography than a memoir, why some children of artistic mothers can make peace with their relationships and others can't, the three things she felt it important to squeeze into the seven minutes she was given to speak at Ursula K. Le Guin's memorial service, her writing method of starting in the middle of a book and working out toward both ends, the occasional difficulty of withholding judgement on one's biographical subjects, the relationship between biographer Robert Caro and editor Robert Gottlieb, plus much more.

This week, Susie Warren-Smith is back in the studio with AJ Sharp and they're talking about heritage this week. Our experts are Scott Goodfellow from Tiptree and Neil Franklin from Brogdale, home of the National Fruit Collection Heritage Orchards. We learn why heritage is really important for topfruit farmers. And although it's one of her favourite condiment producers, Susie is keen to quiz Scott on why Tiptree is also called Wilkin and Sons.

Ken visits the jam factory in Tiptree, Essex, to talk with Farm Manager, Andrey Ivanov and see the latest strawberry harvest. To buy Tiptree jam and products online: https://bit.ly/43WWdIA

Hazel Ellis-Saxon was brought up in a busy household with four siblings in the village of Tiptree in Essex in the 1960s. She struggled with her school work and was often finishing assignments when the other children were enjoying playtime. One day in a quiet classroom Hazel overheard her form teacher describe her to a colleague as ‘mentally retarded'. These two words had a profound effect — leading her to believe that she must be a huge disappointment to her parents and would never enjoy a full life. Dr Sian Williams hears how this label shaped Hazel's decisions for decades and what it took for her to throw it off.

Ray joined Essex Police in 1976. He had previously worked as a trader at Lloyds of London.As a police officer he worked in a number of locations including Basildon and Grays. As a Detective Sergeant he worked at Chelmsford and was promoted to Inspector at Basildon where he started as a uniform Inspector but soon moved to CID when he became involved in the investigation relating to the murder of Steven Pell.Ray transferred to The Metropolitan police as a Superintendent and was posted to Belgravia. It was in the MPS that he worked with Assistant Commissioner Mike Todd. Ray and Mike had been Pcs together at the start of their careers in Essex. Ray concluded his service after 30years service at HaveringRay has always been involved in charity projects and was a heavily involved with the Rotary Club of GB ad travelled to Sri Lanka where he took part in a project to support the local community. During this trip he had an overwhelming urge to visit a church. When he returned to the UK his interest in the church continued and resulted in a meeting with Rev Martin Fletcher of St Luke's Tiptree. Martin encouraged Ray to visit the church and for Ray this was inspirational.Ray took the bible with both hands and has now become an ordained priest. He resides in Hockwold and dedicates his time to his parish. He is a bee keeper and works part time at 48th OSS at RAF Lakenheath.Listen to Rays story Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

»Blood Music« von Greg Bear (mit Nachtrag zu J. Tiptree Jr.)

»Blood Music« von Greg Bear (mit Nachtrag zu J. Tiptree Jr.)

Barry Yogev, co-owner and executive baker at Liv Breads, shares his experience competing in the Tiptree World Bread Awards. Listen to this episode of Since Sliced Bread to hear more about Mr. Yogev's experience and his tips for the perfect loaf.

Jay Rayner hosts a culinary panel show packed full of tasty titbits. This week he's in Essex with experts Tim Anderson, Sophie Wright, Rob Owen Brown and Zoe Laughlin. In the series finale, the panel tell us how to keep cool under pressure (cooking). They also debate whether you should pre-cook meat in the oven before a barbeque - is it the sensible thing to do or is it missing the point? Essex is the home of Tiptree jam so the panel is joined by Walter Scott, Chairman of Wilkin & Sons. He shares their rich history of jam making, and even brings in a jar of James Bond's favourite flavour, scarlet strawberry. The panel is also joined by Anton Thurgood from Maldon Salt, the saline jewel of Essex county. Anton talks us through the artisanal salt making methods used in Maldon, and the panellists share some delicious salt-bake recipes. Producer - Jemima Rathbone Assistant Producer - Bethany Hocken A Somethin' Else production for BBC Radio 4

This week, we're reposting two awesome interviews with authors who were just nominated for the Hugo Award. Our guest today was nominated 3 times for best short story, best novelette, and best novella. Today's guest is fantasy and science fiction author Catherynne Valente. Catherynne Valente is the writer of The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making (and the four books that followed it), Palimpsest, the Orphan's Tales series and so many books you've probably read or heard about. She's a New York Times bestselling author, winner of the Andre Norton, Tiptree, Sturgeon, Eugie Foster Memorial, Mythopoeic, Rhysling, Lambda, Locus, Hugo awards, and more. Usually, in Geekdom Empowers we follow the paths of the geeks around the world who are not highlighted. And yet, Cat's path is exactly the path we talk about. She talks about how, with the power of social media, before it was called social media, she got from knowing no one to what she is today. Social media helped her every stage of the way, including today where her Patreon gives her financial independence from the publishers. It is the story of a rise to success of an author who came from nothing, knowing no one. It is the story of an author who made her own niche, who kept her style and authenticity, and who has withstood, as we'll see, quite a bit of terrible pushback from science fiction and fantasy fans. I think you'll enjoy this interview. It's fascinating. You can find Catherynne Valente here: Website: catherynnemvalente.com/ Twitter: twitter.com/catvalente Instagram: www.instagram.com/catvalente Geekdom Empowers comes out Tuesdays and Thursdays. You can find us here: Website: www.geekdomeempowers.com Instagram: www.instagram.com/geekdomempowers/ Twitter: twitter.com/GeekdomEmpowers Facebook: www.facebook.com/geekdomempowers TikTok: www.tiktok.com/@geekdomempowers

For this month's episode of the Agronomy Matters podcast, we are focussing on how new technology and innovative growing practices are being utilised within fruit production to develop more sustainable, productive and efficient farming systems. We were also joined by Tanya Kesterton, BASIS's Head of Digital Learning, who explained how we are using technology at BASIS to offer new and improved products and services to our members, candidates and to the wider industry. Our three guest speakers on this episode are: Salih Hodzhov - Production Director at WB Chambers LTD: Salih told us about how a major fruit grower, both in the UK and across the world, uses technology to produce fruit which meets the required standard to end up on the supermarket shelf. Andrey Ivanov - Farm Manager at Wilkin & Sons of Tiptree: Now I am sure at some point you will have all eaten some Tiptree jam, and Andrey explained how this historic company is using innovative techniques to produce fruit for its famous products. Gary Saunders - Fruit Agronomist at Agrii: Gary discussed how he uses technology as an agronomist to provide the best possible advice to his customers so they can produce fruit in a sustainable and profitable way. Make sure you listen to the end of the episode to find out how to claim one BASIS CPD point via the members' are on the BASIS website.

Let me introduce you to Scott Goodfellow, the Joint MD of Wilkin and Sons often referred to as ‘ Tiptree' Jam and condiment makers , based in the Essex village of Tiptree. More recently the business has expanded into gin liqueurs made with their fruits, acquired and opened tearooms in and around Essex and Suffolk …. And created a homewares range of candles, aprons and other products inspired by their jams. Scott talks about growing up in Dundee and how he thought he may follow his sister into the police force but in fact he studied engineering and embarked on a graduate training programme with Unilever, then followed some years working for Mars as a shift manager and then a move into sales with Mars. He has been at Wilkin's now for 14 years, so is still a relative newcomer compared to some of the staff…. Scott says a business can never have enough talent and loves to recruit people who will stretch them as a business and push them to see things differently. I learned that their lime marmalade makes a very good mojito, something that I must put to the test …. All in the interests of research. Wilkin and Sons have held the Royal Warrant since 1911 so Scott says his job is jam maker to the Queen. Their products are sold in over 70 countries around the World. The business has a great culture but is inspiring in how open and inclusive they are to hearing other people's ideas and thoughts and as you will hear that is how some great products have come to be made. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Mary Anne interviews Filipino writer Vida Cruz about her experience going to cons, winning the Tiptree (now known as Otherwise) award, and what the sci-fi and fantasy community is like in the Philippines. For show notes, visit: https://speculativeliterature.org/ep-31-show-notes/

Destroyer of Light (Tor Books, 2021) is Jennifer Marie Brissett's long-awaited follow up to her critically acclaimed debut Elysium, winner of a Philip K. Dick Special Citation and a finalist for the Locus and the Tiptree awards. Her new novel takes readers far into the future where humans are settling a new planet. They are the survivors of the world described in Elysium—an Earth where four-dimensional aliens known as the Krestge have destroyed human civilization. The frame of Destroyer of Light is a mystery—a search for a missing boy. But a deeper story follows the relationship of a mother and her young daughter, who is kidnapped and abused by a warlord building an army of child soldiers. The book is also about the relationship between humans and their former antagonists, the Krestge. Some of the aliens' descendants now live peacefully among humans. While some people are willing to forgive the crimes of the past, going so far as to start families with the Krestge, others see their aliens' crimes as unforgivable. “There's a lot of difficulty in answering questions as to what kind of people the Krestge are because to get to know one is not to get to know all. The first alien you meet in the beginning, the stepfather of the missing [human] boy, is really worried about his son and wants to do everything he can to try and find him,” Brissett says. “And yet I think the distrust that humanity has for the Krestge is not unfounded, and it's not without its history and not without its reason. The feeling of not being told the entire truth, of not owning up to past sins, to just sort of pretending that it all just went away because you've decided to not be that anymore, doesn't really happen.” Jennifer Marie Brissett is British-Jamaican American, born in London and raised in Cambridge, Mass. owned an independent bookstore called Indigo Café & Books. She obtained her master's in creative writing from the Stonecoast MFA Program and a bachelor's in Interdisciplinary Engineering from Boston University. Rob Wolf is a writer and host of New Books in Science Fiction. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/science-fiction

Destroyer of Light (Tor Books, 2021) is Jennifer Marie Brissett's long-awaited follow up to her critically acclaimed debut Elysium, winner of a Philip K. Dick Special Citation and a finalist for the Locus and the Tiptree awards. Her new novel takes readers far into the future where humans are settling a new planet. They are the survivors of the world described in Elysium—an Earth where four-dimensional aliens known as the Krestge have destroyed human civilization. The frame of Destroyer of Light is a mystery—a search for a missing boy. But a deeper story follows the relationship of a mother and her young daughter, who is kidnapped and abused by a warlord building an army of child soldiers. The book is also about the relationship between humans and their former antagonists, the Krestge. Some of the aliens' descendants now live peacefully among humans. While some people are willing to forgive the crimes of the past, going so far as to start families with the Krestge, others see their aliens' crimes as unforgivable. “There's a lot of difficulty in answering questions as to what kind of people the Krestge are because to get to know one is not to get to know all. The first alien you meet in the beginning, the stepfather of the missing [human] boy, is really worried about his son and wants to do everything he can to try and find him,” Brissett says. “And yet I think the distrust that humanity has for the Krestge is not unfounded, and it's not without its history and not without its reason. The feeling of not being told the entire truth, of not owning up to past sins, to just sort of pretending that it all just went away because you've decided to not be that anymore, doesn't really happen.” Jennifer Marie Brissett is British-Jamaican American, born in London and raised in Cambridge, Mass. owned an independent bookstore called Indigo Café & Books. She obtained her master's in creative writing from the Stonecoast MFA Program and a bachelor's in Interdisciplinary Engineering from Boston University. Rob Wolf is a writer and host of New Books in Science Fiction. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Destroyer of Light (Tor Books, 2021) is Jennifer Marie Brissett's long-awaited follow up to her critically acclaimed debut Elysium, winner of a Philip K. Dick Special Citation and a finalist for the Locus and the Tiptree awards. Her new novel takes readers far into the future where humans are settling a new planet. They are the survivors of the world described in Elysium—an Earth where four-dimensional aliens known as the Krestge have destroyed human civilization. The frame of Destroyer of Light is a mystery—a search for a missing boy. But a deeper story follows the relationship of a mother and her young daughter, who is kidnapped and abused by a warlord building an army of child soldiers. The book is also about the relationship between humans and their former antagonists, the Krestge. Some of the aliens' descendants now live peacefully among humans. While some people are willing to forgive the crimes of the past, going so far as to start families with the Krestge, others see their aliens' crimes as unforgivable. “There's a lot of difficulty in answering questions as to what kind of people the Krestge are because to get to know one is not to get to know all. The first alien you meet in the beginning, the stepfather of the missing [human] boy, is really worried about his son and wants to do everything he can to try and find him,” Brissett says. “And yet I think the distrust that humanity has for the Krestge is not unfounded, and it's not without its history and not without its reason. The feeling of not being told the entire truth, of not owning up to past sins, to just sort of pretending that it all just went away because you've decided to not be that anymore, doesn't really happen.” Jennifer Marie Brissett is British-Jamaican American, born in London and raised in Cambridge, Mass. owned an independent bookstore called Indigo Café & Books. She obtained her master's in creative writing from the Stonecoast MFA Program and a bachelor's in Interdisciplinary Engineering from Boston University. Rob Wolf is a writer and host of New Books in Science Fiction. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literature

After working and playing hard in noughties London, Perrywood Garden Centre's communications & HR director Hannah Powell turned to nature to heal after suffering from a "functional neurological disorder".She tells the Horticulture Week podcast how "using nature to fix a faulty brain" and how "getting out into nature" was instrumental in her recovery and can be harnessed by everyone to improve their well-being.Hannah returned to the Perrywood Tiptree garden centre and nursery in Essex where she grew up, got a degree in horticulture, and now dedicates herself to looking after the employees at Tiptree and the Perrywood Sudbury garden centre in Suffolk.She talks about her new book The Cactus Surgeon which talks about the unique experience of growing up in a garden centre, but also how her experience has led her to value the mental and physical health of staff at the garden centres, offering free physio screenings to help prevent injuries, providing free counselling days, occupational health referrals and mental health awareness training for managers which has helped the company reduce sick days. Staff feel more valued and cared for, a factor that could also help with staff retention in a time of labour shortages. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

This week Jason chats with Catherynne M. Valente.She is the New York Times bestselling author of over two dozen works of fiction and poetry, including Palimpsest, the Orphan's Tales series, Deathless, Radiance, and the crowdfunded phenomenon The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making (and the four books that followed it). She is the winner of the Andre Norton, Tiptree, Sturgeon, Eugie Foster Memorial, Mythopoeic, Rhysling, Lambda, Locus, and Hugo awards, as well as the Prix Imaginales. Valente has also been a finalist for the Nebula and World Fantasy Awards. She lives on an island off the coast of Maine with a small but growing menagerie of beasts, some of which are human.Her most recent book The Past is Red came out in July and is an Amazon Editor's Pick as Best Science Fiction and Fantasy, and coming in just a few weeks, early November still very much the spooky season, is COMFORT ME WITH APPLES, a terrifying fantasy/horror story.Comfort Me With Apples is a terrifying new thriller from bestseller Catherynne M. Valente, for fans of Gone Girl and Spinning SilverSophia was made for him. Her perfect husband. She can feel it in her bones. He is perfect. Their home together in Arcadia Gardens is perfect. Everything is perfect.It's just that he's away so much. So often. He works so hard. She misses him. And he misses her. He says he does, so it must be true. He is the perfect husband and everything is perfect.But sometimes Sophia wonders about things. Strange things. Dark things. The look on her husband's face when he comes back from a long business trip. The questions he will not answer. The locked basement she is never allowed to enter. And whenever she asks the neighbors, they can't quite meet her gaze....But everything is perfect. Isn't it?

Dominique Mielle is a Wall Street veteran with a comprehensive knowledge of corporate finance, capital markets, and the bankruptcy process.  She was a partner and senior portfolio manager at Canyon Capital, a $25 billion hedge fund, where she worked from 1998 to 2018. In 2017, she was named one of the “50 Leading Women in Hedge Funds” by the Hedge Fund Journal and E&Y. After retiring in 2018 she started writing. Her book, Damsel in Distressed: My life in the golden age of hedge funds, was released on September 7, 2021. She is a Forbes contributor on hedge funds, distressed investing and women in finance. One of the only senior women in the hedge fund business, she played key roles in complicated bankruptcies, serving as a leading creditors' committee member for Puerto Rico, and as a restructuring committee member for U.S. airlines in the wake of the September 11 attacks. She was a director of the board and the audit committee chair for PG&E during its fifteen-month bankruptcy process and emergence, and now serves on several corporate boards: Digicel Group, ReadyCap, Tiptree, Osiris Acquisition and Studio City. 

Today's guest is fantasy and science fiction author Catherynne Valente. Catherynne Valente is the writer of The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making (and the four books that followed it), Palimpsest, the Orphan's Tales series and so many books you've probably read or heard about. She's a New York Times bestselling author, winner of the Andre Norton, Tiptree, Sturgeon, Eugie Foster Memorial, Mythopoeic, Rhysling, Lambda, Locus, Hugo awards, and more. Usually, in Geekdom Empowers we follow the paths of the geeks around the world who are not highlighted. And yet, Cat's path is exactly the path we talk about. She talks about how, with the power of social media, before it was called social media, she got from knowing no one to what she is today. Social media helped her every stage of the way, including today where her Patreon gives her financial independence from the publishers. It is the story of a rise to success of an author who came from nothing, knowing no one. It is the story of an author who made her own niche, who kept her style and authenticity, and who has withstood, as we'll see, quite a bit of terrible pushback from science fiction and fantasy fans. I think you'll enjoy this interview. It's fascinating. You can find Catherynne Valente here: Website: http://catherynnemvalente.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/catvalente Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/catvalente Geekdom Empowers comes out every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. You can find us here: Website: www.geekdomeempowers.com Instagram: www.instagram.com/geekdomempowers/ Twitter: twitter.com/GeekdomEmpowers Facebook: www.facebook.com/geekdomempowers TikTok: www.tiktok.com/@geekdomempowers

We're not always aware of the world we're creating for ourselves and for others. We don't always understand our impact. But there is impact nonetheless. Read by Tatiana Grey, Maria brings us a story of the world that crept up on us screaming for our attention. Read by Lucie Pohl, Brit's story is about a hero who is rescued by the city she loves. "The Kleptographer" by Brit E.B. Hvide, Read by Lucie Pohl Brit E. B. Hvide is a writer and a Hugo Award-nominated editor. She studied creative writing and physics at Northwestern University. Originally from Singapore, she now lives in Brooklyn with her husband and their dog. Follow her on Twitter @bhvide Lucie Pohl is a German-born-NYC-raised comedian, actor, writer & creator of Edinburgh Fringe & OFF B'way solo hits 'Hi, Hitler', 'Apohlcalypse Now!' a.o. Lucie has been featured on NPR, in The NY Times and is also the voice of Mercy on Blizzard's Overwatch. Acting credits include Red Dwarf, Homeland and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. "The Scavenger's Nursery" by Maria Dahvana Headley, Read by Tatiana Grey Maria Dahvana Headley is the New York Times-bestselling author of eight books, most recently The Mere Wife. Her new translation of Beowulf comes out from FSG in August, 2020. Her stories have been short-listed for the Nebula, Shirley Jackson, World Fantasy, and Tiptree awards, and regularly appear in Year's Best anthologies. Tatiana Grey is a critically acclaimed actress of stage, screen, and the audio booth. She has been nominated for dozens of fancy awards but hasn't won a single damned thing. She lives in Brooklyn, New York. See more about Tatiana at www.tatianagrey.com

In the fourth Death by Chocolate Mystery by the bestselling author of the Home Repair is Homicide series, Jacobia "Jake" Tiptree and Ellie White are fired up for Eastport, Maine's Annual Cookie Baking Contest. But when a cunning killer and a devastating fire threaten to ravage the quaint island town, Jake and Ellie must dip into another homemade homicide investigation before all they love goes up in smoke...As co-owners of Eastport's beloved waterfront bakery, The Chocolate Moose, Jake and Ellie know their customers expect them to cream the competition. But they're really just in it for fun, hoping to get Jake's daughter-in-law baking again. Those plans collapse when fearsome local curmudgeon Alvin Carter is murdered, and every crumb of evidence points to Tiptree family friend—and all-around sweet guy—Billy Breyer. Billy's sisters beg Jake and Ellie to prove his innocence. After all, lots of folks had gone sour on Alvin—the only thing the retired lawyer liked better than bilking widows was swindling orphans, and several victims of his long-ago schemes still lived in Eastport. But just as the ladies begin sifting through the suspects, a series of grass fires blaze across the island, cutting off access to the mainland. Could someone be trying to hide the truth about Alvin's murder?Now, Jake and Ellie will need all their courage—and an extra dash of that down-east Maine stubbornness—to sniff out the real killer before anyone else gets burned...Sarah Graves is the USA Today bestselling author of the Death by Chocolate Mysteries, the Home Repair is Homicide Mystery Series, and the Lizzie Snow suspense novels. Much like Jake Tiptree, the sleuth who stars in her cozy mysteries, she lives in a 200-year-old house in Eastport, Maine. When she's not cooking or baking something delectable (or writing about it) she tends a huge garden or shovels snow, depending upon the season.

To mark Mental Health Awareness week, Tamsin speaks to Hannah Powell of Perrywood Tiptree Garden Centre in Essex. Hannah openly discusses her mental health - in the past, she has suffered from depression and Functional Movement Disorder. She shares practical ways to use the power of plants and nature to improve her well-being and explains why she is so passionate about helping people through her blog, The Cactus Surgeon.Hannah also talks about the mental health of those in the Horticultural industry and how the pandemic has had an impact. With approximately 200 staff, she is well placed to offer advice and shares guidance that will be invaluable to anyone in the industry, however large or small their business.

The meme that inspired the episode. Need some light reading in a heavy world?  Good thing there's the YBOF book! Read the full script. Reach out and touch Moxie on FB, Twit, the 'Gram or email.  

Dominique Mielle is a former partner and senior portfolio manager at hedge fund Canyon Capital, is currently a full-time corporate board director, and ws named as Ernst & Young's 2017 "Top 50 Women in Hedge Funds." In this episode, Mielle discusses changes in the financial industry, retail investing and the ongoing GameStop phenomenon, and her forthcoming book, Damsel in Distressed. Also, the experienced investor talks about women in the industry, arguing that women shouldn't be ashamed to aspire toward wealth and success and should also enter the investment side for the fun of it.  Dominique Mielle is a Wall Street veteran with a comprehensive knowledge of corporate finance, capital markets, and the bankruptcy process.  She was a partner and senior portfolio manager at Canyon Capital, a $25 billion hedge fund, where she worked from 1998 to 2018. In 2017, she was named one of the “Top 50 Women in Hedge Funds” by the Hedge Fund Journal and E&Y.  After retiring in 2018 she started writing. Her book, Damsel in Distressed: My life in the golden age of hedge funds, will be released in August 2021. It is a humorous account of her career as a female investor in the male-dominated investment world. She is a Forbes contributor on hedge funds, distressed investing and women in finance. Her column is meant for both dilettantes and practitioners, with a loosely-inspired Sex and The City tone. One of the only senior women in the hedge fund business, she played key roles in complicated bankruptcies, serving as a leading creditors' committee member for Puerto Rico, and as a restructuring committee member for U.S. airlines in the wake of the September 11 attacks. She was a director of the board and the audit committee chair for PG&E during its fifteen-month bankruptcy process and emergence, and now serves on several corporate boards: Digicel Group, Anworth, Tiptree and Studio City.  Follow Dominique on Twitter: @DominiqueMielle Damsel in Distressed Pre-Order    

In this episode, Gina Cocking and Jeff Guylay discuss the different types of auction processes we use in a sale transaction, including a negotiated deal, a small process, a targeted auction, and a broad auction. Gina and Jeff talk about each approach's pros and cons and why Colonnade advises clients on selecting one versus the other, recognizing that each situation is unique and calls for a customized approach to the market. This episode concludes with a case study of a negotiated process, a broad auction, and a hybrid between a small and targeted auction. In this episode, Colonnade Advisors addresses the following questions as related to the different types of auction processes: What are the four primary types of auction processes that Colonnade ues when helping clients sell their business? (01:52) Gina: "There are four general categories, ranging from the smallest audience to the largest. A negotiated deal involves one bidder. A small auction process generally involves two to five bidders. A targeted auction involves the most likely universe of buyers, ranging from six to 20. Lastly, a broad auction involves contacting a large universe of potential buyers, over 20 parties. There are pros and cons to each of these types of auctions." What are the advantages of a broad auction? (03:42) Jeff: "Broad auction is all about market discovery. All four types of auctions involve competition and market discovery, but a broad auction involves unturning every stone, looking under every nook and cranny, and finding that needle in a haystack that you wouldn't have thought about otherwise." How do we get to the highest value and best outcome with a negotiated auction? (05:14) Gina: "With a negotiated auction, there is one buyer, so there is the risk of no competition. The buyer could decide to change the price or walk away at any time. One tactic that we use is creating a credible threat. As the seller's advisor, we work in the background on creating materials to go to broader auction, if necessary. That is the credible threat: if the deal has a misstep at any point, the buyer knows that we can immediately go to market and get full market discovery." Jeff: "Some sellers do not want to go through a broad auction, so they are willing to get a slightly lower price for the benefit of only dealing with one buyer. In addition to pricing, deal momentum and getting a deal done are also critical. " What are the benefits of running a small process? (08:01) Gina: "A small process has a lot of the same dynamics as a negotiated auction. One additional advantage with a small process is actual competition, so you can compare bids and push bids up to the highest possible bid of that group. A second advantage is that the seller will have a fallback buyer if the first choice drops out for some reason. Another advantage to a small process is confidentiality. Selling a company is a very revealing exercise because the seller has to tell buyers everything about the company. A negotiated deal and small process limit the risk of who is getting the seller's confidential information." What types of buyers are generally in a small process and targeted auction? (10:46) Gina: "In a small process, it tends to be strategics. When there is a smaller universe of potential buyers, it tends to be the ones who really understand the business and are already interested, which are likely to be strategics. Jeff: "A small process is almost always largely comprised of strategics. There is probably a mix of strategics in a targeted auction, maybe have half a dozen strategics and ten private equity firms. That sort of universe can generate meaningful competition." What are the trade-offs between a small process and a targeted auction? (11:27) Jeff: "The workload for a small process and a targeted auction is probably the same, but the seller does lose a little bit of a grip on confidentiality because they are talking to 20 parties instead of two." What is one of the drawbacks of starting with a small group of buyers? (12:17) Jeff: "One of the drawbacks of starting with a small group of buyers in a negotiated deal, small process, or the targeted auction is that it is sometimes challenging, depending on how far along you are in the process, to switch to a broader auction. Sellers have to carefully select the appropriate process upfront." What are the considerations for doing a broad auction? (14:04) Gina: "The most important reason to do a broad auction is full market price discovery.” What is Colonnade's approach to assessing the buyer universe? (14:30) Gina: "Colonnade focuses on specific industries in business services and financial services and the intersection between those two, so we know the private equity universe and strategic buyers in these industries." Does a broad auction require more work for the seller? (15:30) Jeff: "A broad auction does not mean that our clients have to do more work than in a targeted auction. All the materials that we put together are the same. We still have to go through rigorous due diligence, putting the book together, building the financial model, and making sure that the story ties out." What is Colonnade's typical broad auction process? (16:00) Jeff: "We create a curated list of buyers, which is approved by our seller clients, and we approach this broad group with a no-name teaser. We contact this broad group and find out the conversations they are having internally and determine whether there is a fit. Sometimes the most obvious top five names are not interested, so it is good that we went to a broader universe. Our team goes through the list on a no-name basis, then under a non-disclosure agreement with specifics. We work the funnel down through indications of interest, management meetings, final bids, and down to the winner." Is there confidentiality risk in a broad auction when reaching out to 100 or more potential buyers? (17:25) Gina: "The 100 or more potential buyers do not all get the information. In the funnel, the 100 or more get the teaser and NDA on a no-names basis. Then at the next stage in the funnel, after the execution of an NDA, some subset will get the confidential information memorandum, which has a lot of information, but it still is limited. The next subset gives us an indication of interest letter, and we will invite them into the next stage, in which they then have access to a limited data room and perhaps a management meeting. Only that final buyer in exclusivity has access to what can be considered the company's trade secrets and have access to the contracts, etc." Jeff: "The buyer list is highly curated. " Can you give an example of a negotiated process? (19:02) Jeff: "TD Bank was selling a national commercial finance business to Wells Fargo. TD Bank hired Colonnade after they started talking about price. Colonnade's role was negotiating the deal and giving TD confidence that they were getting a fair price and what valuation should be in a broader process—creating a credible threat. We worked diligently to negotiate the deal with Wells Fargo and put a book together so that we were ready to go to market if needed. We had the 40 logical names ready to be contacted at any minute if the deal with Wells Fargo failed, and Wells Fargo knew it too. To Well Fargo's credit, they came through and offered a fair price and came through on the timing and offered a great platform for the team." Can you give an example of a broad auction? (20:54) Gina: "Last year, Colonnade advised Smart AutoCare on its sale to Fortegra, a Tiptree subsidiary. We started with over 100 potential buyers in a broad auction. We received eleven indications of interest, so it was a very robust auction, and we had great price discovery. At the time, we did not go to Tiptree because Fortegra was a supplier to the company. We had three or four LOIs, and we went forward with the winning bidder, and it was a great price. We ended up pivoting away from that buyer because the business owner felt that the private equity firm did not understand his business, so we went to Tiptree. We were able to negotiate a transaction with Tiptree and successfully close. It was a fantastic result." Can you give an example of a hybrid between a small process and a targeted auction? (22:37) Jeff: "A few years ago, we advised ADG on its sale to APCO. APCO had approached ADG and its private equity owner and made an offer. ADG hired Colonnade to run a small process or a targeted auction to the obvious buyers. There were many potential buyers, but we narrowed it to a list of 15 and worked that list to generate competition and drive up the price and terms. APCO, who had essentially triggered the auction, was ultimately the winner, and they paid market price and terms. It was a great outcome for the team." How do sellers determine which auction process is the best option for selling their businesses? (24:16) Jeff: "Each situation is unique, and it depends on lots of different circumstances. It is all part of the pre-planning process that we work with our clients to think about what's going to get the best outcome based on their objectives." Host Information Gina Cocking Gina Cocking serves as the Chief Executive Officer of Colonnade Advisors. She returned to Colonnade as a Managing Director in 2014. Gina began her career in investment banking at Kidder Peabody, was an analyst at Madison Dearborn Partners, and an associate at J.P. Morgan & Co. She was a Vice President at Colonnade Advisors from 1999 to 2003. She left Colonnade to gain operating experience as the Chief Financial Officer of Cobalt Finance, a specialty finance company. She went on to become the Chief Financial Officer of Healthcare Laundry Systems, a private equity-backed company for which she oversaw the successful sale to a strategic acquirer. Gina served as the Line of Business CFO – Consumer Banking and Lending at Discover Financial Services. Gina serves on the Board of Directors of CIB Marine Bancshares, Inc., a bank holding company based in Brookfield, Wisconsin, that operates banking offices in Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin. Gina received her BA in Economics and an MBA from the University of Chicago. Additionally, Gina holds the Series 24, 28, 79, and 99 securities licenses. Jeff Guylay Jeff Guylay is a Managing Director of Colonnade Advisors. Prior to joining Colonnade in 2000, Jeff was an investment banker at J.P. Morgan in the firm's Mergers & Acquisitions and Fixed Income Capital Markets groups in New York. He also spent several years in J.P. Morgan's Chicago office. Jeff has over 20 years of M&A and investment banking experience and has served as lead execution partner on over 25 M&A and financing transactions at Colonnade. Jeff received an MBA from Northwestern University's Kellogg Graduate School of Management and a Master of Engineering Management from the University's McCormick School of Engineering. Jeff received a BA from Dartmouth College and a BE from Dartmouth's Thayer School of Engineering. Jeff holds the Series 7, 24, 63, and 79 securities licenses. Jeff serves as a director of the non-profit Nurture, an organization dedicated to enhancing the nutrition and wellness of children and families. About the Middle Market Mergers & Acquisitions Podcast Get the insiders' take on mergers and acquisitions. M&A investment bankers Gina Cocking and Jeff Guylay of Colonnade Advisors discuss the technical aspects of and tactics used in middle market deals. This podcast offers actionable advice and strategies for selling your company and is aimed at owners of middle market companies in the financial services and business services sectors. Middle market companies are generally valued between $20 million and $500 million.

Joining me for this episode's online chat is one of my favourite authors of weird and wonderful fiction, Catherynne M Valente. Catherynne is the New York Times bestselling author of forty works of speculative fiction and poetry, including Space Opera, The Refrigerator Monologues, Palimpsest, the Orphan's Tales series, Deathless, Radiance, and the crowdfunded phenomenon The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Own Making (and the four books that followed it). She is the winner of the Andre Norton, Tiptree, Sturgeon, Prix Imaginales, Eugie Foster Memorial, Mythopoeic, Rhysling, Lambda, Locus, Romantic Times' Critics Choice and Hugo awards. She has been a finalist for the Nebula and World Fantasy Awards. She lives on an island off the coast of Maine with a small but growing menagerie of beasts, some of which are human. We talk about her many fabulous books, how she came to write and then crowdfund the first book in The Fairyland series which went on to win the Nebula Award, planting Easter eggs in Space Opera, writing complicated books, the weather and her latest short story which just so happens to be a Star Wars story The pairings: Little, Big by John Crowley The epic story of Smoky Barnable, an anonymous young man who travels by foot from the City to a place called Edgewood—not found on any map—to marry Daily Alice Drinkwater, as was prophesied. It is the story of four generations of a singular family, living in a house that is many houses on the magical border of an otherworld. It is a story of fantastic love and heartrending loss; of impossible things and unshakable destinies; and of the great Tale that envelops us all. It is a wonder. Catherynne chose a classic cocktail from 1688 - Milk Punch - to pair with this eerie and complex story. Possession by A.S. Byatt An exhilarating novel of wit and romance, at once an intellectual mystery and triumphant love story. It is the tale of a pair of young scholars researching the lives of two Victorian poets. As they uncover their letters, journals, and poems, and track their movements from London to Yorkshire—from spiritualist séances to the fairy-haunted far west of Brittany—what emerges is an extraordinary counterpoint of passions and ideas. Man Booker Prize Winner (1990) Catherynne suggested a 1920s cocktail called The Last Word to pair perfectly with this passionate literary thriller! Smart Ovens For Lonely People by Elizabeth Tan A collection of offbeat, mind-bending short stories that are a joy to dip in and out of. A cat-shaped oven tells a depressed woman she doesn't have to be sorry anymore. A Yourtopia Bespoke Terraria employee becomes paranoid about the mounting coincidences in her life. Four girls gather to celebrate their underwear in ‘Happy Smiling Underwear Girls Party' and so many more. These are funny, sharp, witty and surreal stories that are somewhat disturbing at heart as they give us a glimpse of a potential future world and what might be… I was thinking that i'd love something fresh and sharp to drink whilst reading these stories and the wine that comes to mind is an Argentinian wine called Torrontes - it's nickname is The Liar as it smells sweet but is actually very dry and has an almost salty and lean taste and texture in your mouth. I think it would pair perfectly with this book of inventive and biting stories!

Satya Doyle Byock & Carol Ferris dive into The Red Book's most visceral chapter in which Jung eats the liver of a murdered girl. Carol discusses the role of the liver in Chinese Medicine, Jung's natal chart, astrology of this chapter, & the science fiction in world-making. Satya discusses animal embodiment, humanity's relation to the guilt of existence, the image of and the reclamation of evil. Ann Carrol translates the German word for “mensch.” Chapter: “The Sacrificial Murder” Astrological Charts: Jung Hell, The Sacrificial Murder Learn More: Salome Institute: SalomeInstitute.com Carol: CarolFerrisAstrology.com Satya: Quarterlife.org Recorded July 26, 2020

The farm manager at Tiptree Farms tells Ken Crowther how they are planning to recycle wasted heat from the Wilkin & Sons factory to extend the fruit season.

Ken Crowther has visited Tiptree Farms to find out how this years fruit harvest has been.

Our Very Special Guest this week is Joanna Averley, the new Chief Planner at MHCLG. Court Judgments of the Week Wainhomes v SOSHCLG [2020]EWHC 2294; a decision of Dove J who quashed a decision of the Secretary of State to dismiss an appeal for 100 homes and remitted it for redetermination. The case centred upon a failure of reasons to explain why a policy agreed by three authorities was considered to be up to date despite the authorities agreeing a subsequent redistribution based on an MoU based on an aggregated Standard Methodology figure. Peel Investments v SOSHCLG [2020] EWCA Civ 1836 a decision of the Court of Appeal upholding the decision of Dove J. who in turn upheld an Inspector's decision to dismiss appeals in respect of residential development up to 600 dwellings. The case turned upon how to approach whether policy is out of date which is fundamentally a matter of planning judgment – so here policies in a plan without saved strategic policies could still be up to date. Appeals of the Week Successful appeal by Gladman against decision of Chorley BC for 180 homes Aug 20 Tiptree appeal [18 August 2020] permission refused for 255 homes; Wokingham decision [25 August 2020] permission refused for 216 dwellings Braintree decision permission granted for up to 300 homes [17/8/20]

Ten minutes with... is a special series presented by Coode Street that sees readers and booklovers from around the world talk about what they're reading right now and what's getting them through these difficult times. Hugo, Tiptree, and Shirley Jackson Award winner Maureen McHugh joins Gary to talk about online teaching during the lockdown, the benefits of Zoom work sessions with fellow writers, the reissue of her classic novel China Mountain Zhang, researching the 13th century, and completing a draft of her first novel in almost two decades(!) Books mentioned include: China Mountain Zhang by Maureen F. McHugh The Mirror and the Light by Hilary Mantel The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells The Rivers of London series by Ben Aaronovitch A Perfect Spy by John Le Carré

Ken's been back to Tiptree farms where it's be a great year for cherries.

Ken has an update on things happening at Tiptree Farms, and how the coronavirus pandemic is affecting the sales of the world famous jam.

With restrictions due to Coronavirus, Ken's spoken to staff at Tiptree Farms and reports back on what they are currently doing feeding the nation.

City gain a hard earned point away at the league leaders.

Ken Crowther has been to find out!

World Radio Gardening reporter, Ken is back at Tiptree Farms chatting with the Farm Manager about water storage and usage in the fruit growing processes.

Capítulo #01 de Las Escritoras de Urras Relato: Soñarán en el jardín, de Gabriela Damián. Narrado por Maielis González. "Soñarán en el jardín", que se publicó por primera vez en una antología centrada en la violencia de género, ganó el premio Tiptree en 2019. En este capítulo nos acompaña la editora y traductora Arrate Hidalgo, que formó parte del jurado que eligió el relato de Gabriela como ganador. Puedes leer el texto del relato y los avisos de sensibilidad aquí: https://escritorasdeurras.blogspot.com/2020/01/capitulo-01-sonaran-en-el-jardin-de.html

Our reporter, Ken Crowther speaks to Liz from the marketing team at Wilkin and Sons about their brand new heritage bus tea room.

Weekly Unofficial Leyton Orient Podcast by @stevienuss & @supero1881. This episode includes: *O's Chairman Nigel Travis catches up with Steve post Scunthorpe for a 15 minute chat *Carl Fletcher departs *Maldon & Tiptree & Scunthorpe match reviews *Your views and reactions *News from the last fortnight at the club *Info on on how to buy your very own Orient Outlook Podcast Mug *Orient Ladies update *Supporters Club update *Leyton Orient Trust update *Positives & Negatives of the fortnight *Hero of the fortnight *Prediction League, Fantasy Football, Dream Team updates & lots more Listen now to the most comprehensive round of Orient news and views anywhere in the world. Up the O's!

The lads from E10Mess joined Charlie Hawkins to chat an awful draw to Maldon and Tiptree.

Tiptree Farm Administrator Dan chats with report Ken about what happens on the farm over winter.

Ken Crowther has been chatting with Farm Administrator Dan at Tiptree about the Medlar crop.

The Soundshirt from high-tech fashion company Cute Circuit has embedded sensors that can sense sound and turn it into vibrations. In other words, it helps deaf people feel music. And since we're talking about sounds, have you heard the Tiptree Sneeze, where a trombonist let loose in the middle of a concert? The Soundshirt lets deaf people feel music on their skin (designboom) Man sneezes into his trombone during concert - Tiptree sneeze (YouTube) Tiptree trombone sneeze man tells of 'freak event' (BBC) --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/coolweirdawesome/message

The farm manager at Tiptree Farms talks about how they are making the full use of available space.

World Radio Gardening reporter, Ken Crowther has been speaking with the farm manager at Tiptree Farms about how they are maximising their growing space.

Ken takes a trip to Tiptree Farms and chats with Farm manager Andrey about the plum crop.

We take another visit to Wilkin's Farm in Tiptree where the fruit is grown for the world famous Tiptree jam. In this podcast, we find out how the weather can impact growth even when the plants are under cover and what the best temperature is for growing strawberries.

Probetas radioactivas #04 ¿Cuántas somos capaces de nombrar a una científica que no sea Marie Curie? ¿Dónde están las doctoras Frankenstein, Jekyll, Strangelove? ¿Cayeron en el mismo olvidadero que las innumerables mujeres borradas de la historia de la ciencia por sus compañeros, maridos, mentores? En este episodio indagamos en la genealogía de las científicas que habitan el género especulativo y sus diversas relaciones con el patriarcado ejercido desde la ciencia occidental, centrándonos especialmente en la novela Como la vida misma, de Gwyneth Jones. En lo audiovisual, Laura Lazcano repasará la figura de la científica en la serie B de los años 50 y su progresión en el cine actual. A lo largo de este repaso nos apoyaremos en el ensayo de S. García Dauder y Eulalia Pérez Sedeño titulado Las ‘mentiras’ científicas sobre las mujeres, y contaremos con una invitada especial: la autora mexicana Gabriela Damián Miravete, ganadora del Premio Tiptree 2018 con el relato “Soñarán en el jardín” Probeta Radioaktiboak #04   Gutako zenbat gara gai emakume zientzialari baten izena esateko, Marie Curie alde batera utzita? Non daude Frankenstein, Jekyll, Strangelove emakume doktoreak? Ahanzturan gelditu ziren, lankideek, senarrek edo mentoreek zientziaren historiatik ezabatutako ezin konta ahala emakume bezala? Atal honetan aztertuko ditugu genero espekulatiboko emakume zientzialarien genealogia eta mendebaldeko zientziaren patriarkatuarekin izandako erlazio ugariak, Gwyneth Jonesen Como la vida misma eleberria ardatz gisa hartuta. Ikus-entzunezkoen arloan, Laura Lazcanok 50eko hamarkadako B serieko emakume zientzialarien figura aztertuko du, eta nola egin duen aurrera gaur egungo zineman. Azterketa hori egiteko, S. García Dauder eta Eulalia Pérez Sedeñoren Las ‘mentiras’ científicas sobre las mujeres saiakeran oinarrituko gara, eta gonbidatu berezi bat izango dugu: Gabriela Damián Miravete egile mexikarra, Tiptree 2018 saria irabazi zuena “Soñarán en el jardín” kontakizunarekin. Lista de reproducción Dígito binario dudoso - Hidrogenesse Sally Ride - Janelle Monáe Emily - Joanna Newsom Berta multiplicada - Christina Rosenvinge Weird Science - Oingo Boingo Lista de lecturas Las “mentiras” científicas sobre las mujeres, S. García Dauder y Eulalia Pérez Sedeño Como la vida misma, Gwyneth Jones (trad. Aitor Solar y Omar El-Kashef) Aniquilación, Jeff Vandermeer (trad. Isabel Margelí) Círculo de espadas, Eleanor Arnason (trad. Elsa Mateo Blanco) “The Potter of Bones”, Eleanor Arnason “The Evening and the Morning and the Night”, Octavia Butler “Soñarán en el jardín”, Gabriela Damián Miravete

LISTEN to Part one and two before listening to this podcast! As myself and Richard Suggett head to Perrywood Garden Centre in Tiptree to see the other side of the story about the future of garden centres with Manager Hannah Powell.What do you think? tell me your thoughts on this subject on twitter, facebook or instagram!Big thanks to Richard Suggett for editing this podcast interview. Listen to more of Richard on The Veg Grower Podcast.

World Radio Gardening reporter, Ken Crowther takes a visit to the fruit farm at Tiptree in Essex as the picking begins.

Spouse unsupportive of your fitness journey? Let’s talk to Relationship therapist Lorraine Bacon. Interviewed by Stephanie Webster Urban Health Method. Lorraine Bacon has been a therapist since 2009 after completing a BA (Hons) Degree in person-centered & mental health. Lorraine has worked with addiction since 2009 offering 1:1 & group therapy. Lorraine has completed a postgraduate Diploma as a specialist in Psychosexual & Relationship therapy offering individual & couple therapy. Lorraine is based in Tiptree, Essex & her profile/details are on the Counselling Directory & COSRT website. Contact Lorraine Bacon at 07739 033252 If you want to Get in Shape, Get Healthy and Get Happy, call us for a confidential consultation - Stephanie Webster Urban Health Method. 07500 356356 (WhatsApp) hello@urbanhealthmethod.com urbanhealthmethod.com CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO IMPROVE THE QUALITY OF OUR PODCAST:https://www.patreon.com/urbanhealth

Andrey Ivanov from Tiptree Farms takes our reporter Ken on a tour of the expanded growing tunnels.

Farm Manager at Tiptree Farms, Andrey Ivanov, explains about the experiments they are doing this year with Essex University.

Welcome to the first of a four-part SmartHort podcast. In this episode Sarah Hunter-Argyle will be interviewing Andrey Ivanov from Tiptree and Dr Vishuu Mohan from the University of Essex and will discuss in detail about their collaboration to develop a robotic strawberry harvester.    Andrey provides a real insight into how he got involved with the University of Essex and Dr Vishuu Mohan answers whether robotics is the future of horticulture.     You can also listen to the following special SmartHort podcasts:    Chris Danks from KTN: Chris Danks from KTN explains how they can help growers invest money in innovative projects. He shares a range of advice, support and knowledge about helping your business step into the robotic world. Listen now (https://audioboom.com/posts/7233932-smarthort-part-2-ktn-specialist-explains-how-to-invest-your-money-in-innovative-projects)   Calum Murray from Innovate UK: Calum provides a better understanding of what growers should consider when applying for funding, the process and other factors which growers nee d to consider before investing, including grants. Listen now (https://audioboom.com/posts/7233952-smarthort-part-4-what-are-the-next-steps-for-horticulture-growers-to-invest-in-robotics-and-ai)   Jacob Kirwan from G’s Growers: We look at the challenges that G’s Growers have faced and how they have overcome this through some of their current projects on robotics and automation. Listen now (https://audioboom.com/posts/7233944-smarthort-part-3-g-s-growers-share-business-challenges-and-opportunities-when-investing-in-robotics) For further information please visit: http://ahdb.org.uk/smarthort  Also, don’t forget to catch our next AHDB podcast with Lloyd Holterman from Rosy Lane Holsteins in Winsconsin, USA. Lloyd shares his thoughts on managing the modern dairy cow, including the use of genetics, biosecurity and disease control and the importance of measuring performanc e and good record keeping.

When it comes to tackling gender as a subject in science fiction and fantasy, one approach has been to sort everybody out into single-gender societies. Whether we're talking about one of the earliest progenators of this approach, such as Charlotte Perkins Gilman's "Herland," or the kinds of worlds second-wave feminists built in "Gate to Women's Country," "Handmaid's Tale," and "Left Hand of Darkness," or perhaps even the weird gender-bending works by writers working in science fiction and fantasy today, such as "The Stars Are Legion" and "Ancillary Justice" and "Lumberjanes" and many others—no matter who we're talking about, there's much to be said. Join us for a tour of the three (or more?) stages of single-gender utopias and arguments about Alderman, Atwood, Gilman, Hurley, Leckie, Le Guin, Russ, Tepper, Tiptree, and ... Wonder Woman? Yeah, Wonder Woman! Questions are our forté: Who is writing these stories and who gets permission to make big science fictional or fantastical statements about the relationship between gender and society? What expectations and assumptions does a single-gender utopia lay bare? What happens when you take a binary understanding of gender *out* of the equation? And also, where are all the not-white people? Single-gender utopias seem to have some blind spots. We put big question marks around the words "gender" and "utopia" as we dig into this legacy novum of our favorite genres/modes/cats—so be forewarned, this episode gets very queer. Like our content or our new introduction? Our website is www.imaginaries.net, and you can drop us a line at imaginarypod@gmail.com or find us on Twitter at @imaginary_pod. You can find ALL of our back episodes on YouTube, and listen to our episodes on iTunes or SoundCloud. If you would like to help support our work, you can do so at www.ko-fi.com/imaginaries.

Ratcatcher by Amy Griswold       1918, over Portsmouth The souls in the trap writhed and keened their displeasure as Xavier picked up the shattergun. “Don’t fuss,” he scolded them as he turned on the weapon and adjusted his goggles, shifting the earpieces so that the souls’ racket penetrated less piercingly through the bones behind his ears. “It’s nothing to do with you.” The two airships were docked already, a woman airman unfastening safety ropes from the gangplank propped between them to allow Xavier to cross. The trap rocked with a vibration that owed nothing to the swaying airships, and Xavier lifted it and tucked it firmly under his arm. He felt the soul imprisoned in his own chest stir, a straining reaction that made him stop for a moment to catch his breath.     Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 69 for April 4th, 2019. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to share this story with you. Our story today is "Ratcatcher" by Amy Griswold.  Before we get to the story, GlitterShip has recently had some exciting news. Our second anthology, GlitterShip Year Two was listed as a Tiptree Award Honor Book for 2018. We're very happy that the Tiptree jury enjoyed the book, and owe a great debt to all the authors who have allowed us to publish their work. You can find out more about the Tiptree Award and check out the winner Gabriela Damian Miravete's story, "They Will Dream in the Garden" at tiptree.org. You can also pick up copies of the GlitterShip Year One and Year Two anthologies on gumroad at gumroad.com/keffy for $5 each. Just use the coupon code "tiptree," that's t-i-p-t-r-e-e. Amy Griswold is the author of the interactive novels The Eagle’s Heir and Stronghold (with Jo Graham), published by Choice of Games, as well as the gay fantasy/mystery novels Death by Silver and A Death at the Dionysus Club (with Melissa Scott). Her short fiction has been published in markets including F&SF and Fantastic Stories of the Imagination. Robin G has been an entertainment manager, entertainer/vocalist, theatrical producer and writer of several pantomimes including a UV version of Pinocchio that toured 20 theaters in the UK. He was first alerted to the supernatural in a strange dream sequence while in the Royal Air Force that placed him at a future event. The knowledge that a part of our brain exists in another reality has shown him many unusual incidents of the sixth sense. He writes both fiction and non-fiction which includes Jim Long — space agent, a series of stand-alone stories in 7 books, including one as a radio episodic creation, and the non-fiction book Magical theory of life—discusses our life, history, and its aftermath in non-religious spiritual terms.     Ratcatcher by Amy Griswold       1918, over Portsmouth The souls in the trap writhed and keened their displeasure as Xavier picked up the shattergun. “Don’t fuss,” he scolded them as he turned on the weapon and adjusted his goggles, shifting the earpieces so that the souls’ racket penetrated less piercingly through the bones behind his ears. “It’s nothing to do with you.” The two airships were docked already, a woman airman unfastening safety ropes from the gangplank propped between them to allow Xavier to cross. The trap rocked with a vibration that owed nothing to the swaying airships, and Xavier lifted it and tucked it firmly under his arm. He felt the soul imprisoned in his own chest stir, a straining reaction that made him stop for a moment to catch his breath. “If you’re ready, sir,” the airman said, and Xavier forced himself into motion. He nodded crisply and strode out onto the gangplank with the ease of long years spent aboard ships, his gloved hand just brushing the rail. He scrambled down from the other end and got out of the way of airmen rushing to disengage the gangplank and close the hatch before the two ships could batter at each other too dangerously in the rising wind. The Coriolanus’s captain strode toward him, and Xavier winced as he recognized a familiar face. He set the trap down, both to get it farther away from the casing that housed the soul in his chest, and to give himself a moment to banish all envy from his expression. He straightened with a smile. “Hedrick. I see you landed on your feet after that muddle over Calais.” “I’ve got a knee that tells me the weather now,” Hedrick said, scrubbing at his not-entirely-regulation stubble of ginger beard. “They told me you’d been grounded.” “I’m still attached to the extraction service,” Xavier said. “As a civilian now.” Hedrick’s eyes flickered to the odd lines of Xavier’s coat front, and then back up to his face without a change of expression. He’d always been good at keeping a straight face at cards. “We could use the help. We had a knock-down drag-out with the Huns a few weeks back—just shy of six weeks, I make it. Heavy casualties on both sides, and some of them damned reluctant to move on.” “Only six weeks? You hardly need me. Chances are they’ll still depart on their own.” “You haven’t seen the latest orders that came down, then. We’re supposed to call in the ratcatchers at the first sight of ghosts. Not acceptable on a well-run ship, don’t you know.” “You’re also meant to shave,” Xavier said. “It’s not like you to comply with every absurd directive that comes down the pike.” He couldn’t help reveling in the freedom to talk that way, one of the few rewards of his enforced change in career. “These are Colonel Morrow’s orders.” “Mmm.” That put a different face on it, or might. Morrow supervised the ratcatchers, civilian and military, and his technical brilliance had saved Xavier’s life when he lost his soul. That said, it was entirely in character for Morrow to go on a tear about efficiency without regard for how much work it made for anyone else. “Besides, there’s more to it,” Hedrick said as the Coriolanus drifted free of the Exeter. “We’ve been having damned bad luck of late. Pins slipping out of a gangplank just as one of the lads stepped on it—he just missed ending up a smear on the landscape. More engine malfunctions than you can name, and some of them dangerous. If the Coriolanus weren’t in such good repair to start with, she’d have burned twice over in the last month.” “You suspect sabotage.” “Some of the Jerries had their boots on our deck when they bit it. We tossed the bodies over the side, but still I’m not entirely easy in my mind.” “Next time, don’t,” Xavier said. “The soul’s more likely to stay in the corpse if it’s well treated. Ill handling breaks the ties faster.” He directed his gaze out the porthole window of the gondola rather than at Hedrick’s face. “You weren’t using shatterguns?” “We haven’t got them mounted. No budget for them in our grade, I hear. And just as well if you ask me. They give me the cold chills.” Hedrick glanced at the shattergun under Xavier’s arm. “A necessity in my profession,” he said. “Better you than me.” It was a backhanded enough kind of sympathy that Xavier didn’t cringe away from it. “Any particular area of the ship most affected?” “The crew quarters, I think—I’ve had men stirring up their whole deck with screaming nightmares, and not the usual nervous cases.” “At least it’s a place to start.” He followed Hedrick through the narrow corridors of the airship’s gondola to the cramped berthing area that housed the enlisted men. Only the night watch was there and sleeping, young men squeezed into claustrophobically low bunks, some with their knees tucked up to keep their feet from dangling off the end. A panel of canvas made a half-hearted divider screening the row of women’s bunks from the men’s view. Xavier set down his gear and stretched out on the nearest unoccupied bunk. “Leave me alone, now, and let me work.” “Funny kind of work,” Hedrick said, raising an eyebrow at his recumbent form. “‘They also serve who only stand and wait,’” Xavier said, and tried not to sound bitter. “Now get out.” He closed his eyes at the sound of Hedrick’s retreating footsteps and schooled his breathing into the steady rhythm that would send him swiftly into a doze. The soul in his chest shifted once, making him break his rhythmic breathing with a gasping cough, but he spread an entreating hand across its cage and it quieted. He knew he was dreaming when he saw Thomas walk into the room and sit down on the foot of the bed. For a moment the more rational part of his mind protested that it was impossible to sit down on the foot of an airship bunk, but his dreaming mind obligingly replaced the scene with a four-poster bed lit by streaming sunshine. Thomas’s hair was limned with gold, his eyes bright and laughing. “Haven’t you got work to do?” He was dressed in the uniform he died in, but as Xavier took his hand, it faded like smoke to reveal freckled skin. “I do,” Xavier said. “I’m most remiss.” He raised his chin unrepentantly, and Thomas grappled for him like a wrestler. He was aware of reality as soon as they touched, the sensation of Thomas’s soul writhing through Xavier’s body painfully erotic but nothing remotely like physical sex. He heard himself gasp, unsure whether he’d actually made a sound the sleeping airmen could hear, and realized how genuinely unwise this was. He pushed Thomas away, and the other man’s soul retreated, dissolving into curling smoke, and then retreated too far, tugging away in unstoppable reflex. It felt like someone was pulling a rib out of his chest. “Thomas—” The smoke resolved itself for a moment into the golden-haired man, his face contorted. “I’m trying to stop,” he said. His shape exploded into smoke again, and twisted almost free of Xavier’s chest, leaving Xavier unable to draw a breath for long enough that his vision darkened. Then Thomas was back, sprawled against Xavier’s side as if in the exhausted aftermath of love. “Christ, that hurt,” Thomas said. “Like trying to hold onto a hot iron.” “You know it will only get worse.” “And so what’s the point in talking about it?” The image of Thomas appeared to stand, now pressed and correct in his airman’s uniform, looking around the dim barracks-room. His soul lay quiet in Xavier’s chest, a weight that eased its lingering ache. “We still have a job to do.” “So we do.” “There have been ghosts here,” Thomas said. “Two, I think. I’d look in the engine room if I were you.” He turned, frowning. “And don’t lay aside your gun. At least one of them is in a dangerous mood.”   In the engine room, the thumping of the steam engines pulsed through Xavier’s bones, and the heat coming off every surface beat against his skin. Through his goggles he could see wisps of what looked like steam but were really the lingering traces of the dead, men and women who had died in the recent battle. Not ghosts but something more like bloodstains. He turned a circle, looking for a more solid form, and settled the goggles’ earpieces more firmly against the bones behind his ears. A hundred sounds were familiar, the cacophony of airship travel he’d long ago learned to drown out. Under them was the faintest of animal noises, a tuneless moaning. He took a step toward it, and then another. A rattling on the other side of the engine room distracted him, and he turned. A connecting rod was flailing free, its pin out and the mechanism it served shuddering with the interrupted rhythm. He crossed the deck swiftly, keeping his head lifted as if watching the loose rod, but his eyes fixed on the deck. He caught the movement and stopped short as a hatch swung open in front of him, steam rising from the gaping space he had been intended to step into. “A creditable try,” he said. “Pity I’ve seen these tricks before.” He raised his shattergun, keeping his expression calm despite his awareness of his danger. A ghost could only move small objects, but here there might be a hundred small objects that could release steam or poison fumes or heavy weights if moved. “Why don’t you go in the trap like a good lad?” he said, putting the trap down on a section of deck that he made sure was solid. “This is the end of the road, you know.” Silence greeted him. He turned a slow circle, raising the shattergun. “You’re dead,” he said. “Stone cold dead. Your corpse is sinking to the bottom of the Channel or spattered across some unfortunate farmer’s hayfield. All that remains for you is to let go your precarious grip on this plane of existence and go to whatever awaits you.” There was no answer. “Or I can shoot you with this shattergun and destroy your soul. Would you like that better?” He heard the moaning again, rising to a ragged wail like a child’s crying. He took cautious steps toward it, aware of every rattle in the machinery around him. A wisp of smoke was curled up in a niche between the steel curves of two large engines, wailing forlornly. He raised the shattergun, and the smoke solidified into a dark-haired shape in an English airman’s uniform. It was a woman, and when she raised her head, he could see from the jagged ruin of one side of her skull that she’d met her end in an abrupt collision with some blunt object. “Don’t shoot me!” He lowered the shattergun cautiously. “I would far rather not.” “I don’t want to be dead,” she said. “I’m still here, I’m still here—” “You died weeks ago,” Xavier said. Six weeks ago, assuming she was a casualty of the most recent skirmish. “Your body is miles away and decomposing. You are dead, and the sooner you grasp that, the sooner you can move on.” “I won’t go in that thing.” “You will,” Xavier said briskly, knowing gentleness would be no mercy now. “The trap will confine you painlessly while I remove you from the site of your death.” He hefted the shattergun, but left the safety on. “Or I destroy your soul. That, I promise you, will hurt.” “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, lifting a stubborn chin. It took stubbornness to be a woman in the service. “There’s been sabotage.” “It wasn’t me.” “No, I don’t think it was,” he said. He was watching her face, and he saw her eyes move past him, fixing on something behind his shoulder. She cried out, but he was already moving, and threw himself to the deck as a blast of superheated steam singed the back of his neck. Steam swam in front of his eyes, and something darker within it: a second ghost, and one that was up to no good. He pushed himself up to one elbow and reached out with his gloved hand, thrusting its mesh of wiring into the yielding substance of the new ghost and then clenching his fist. The ghost was a chill weight as he began drawing his hand back toward the trap. He had expected it to be too clever to be caught so easily. There was no resistance. He understood why a moment too late as the ghost rushed toward him, and then into him, reaching for Xavier’s heart. Clever after all, he had time to think, before the sensation of being hollowed out from the inside sent him plunging into shellshock-vivid memory, a predictable and yet unavoidable descent—   —Xavier ducked under the web of grappling lines that bound the two ships together and fired between them, flattening himself against the remains of the breached gondola wall to reload. Through his goggles, he could see souls curling up out of the bodies that littered the deck, drifting free or swirling in snakelike muddled circles as if seeking a way back in. The wind screamed. He reached down with his gloved hand to yank the nearest circling soul firmly free from its body, and held it flailing in his fist. He found his trap with the other hand, or what remained of it, shattered fragments. He shoved the soul at them anyway, but it wouldn’t go in. “Never mind the sodding dead!” someone shouted, firing from beside him, but the only certainty he had in a world full of flying debris and blood was that the souls needed to come out of the corpses, extracted like rotten teeth. He raised his head, and saw the shattergun pointed at him from across the narrow gap between the ships. He flung himself to one side, and the blast caught him on the side of the chest rather than between the eyes. I’m still here, he thought, I’m still here, and then saw the curling smoke trailing away from his chest like a ragged cloud torn apart by the wind. His breath caught in his chest, and then stopped, like something he’d forgotten how to do a long time ago. He didn’t breathe, but he still moved, crushing the soul in his fist against his chest, reaching out mechanically for the remains of the trap, pressing it to his chest, then pressing harder. Harder, until the glass cut through skin and flesh, trapping the soul coiled half in, half out of his chest. Harder, until he bled, and breathed—   —He gasped for breath, and he was in the hospital ward, with Morrow sitting in a straight-backed chair at the foot of the bed, a look of interest on his stubbled face. “You know, it never occurred to me to try what you did. Not that it would have worked for long.” Xavier looked down, and saw an alien construction of glass and metal wrapped around his chest, smoke swirling in its depths and an electric buzz humming against his skin. He breathed, trying not to gasp like a drowning swimmer. Each breath came more predictably than the last, but not more easily. “I built you a more stable housing for your passenger,” Morrow said. “Tell me, what is it like? Having someone else’s soul animating your body?” He leaned forward eagerly, chin rested on his fist. “Who is he?” “Corporal Thomas Carlisle. Now unfortunately deceased. His service record is brief and unenlightening. You haven’t answered my question.” “I’m alive,” Xavier said, but he had seen his soul shattered. Had felt himself dying. He reached up with one shaky hand and spread his fingers across the warm metal. Someone else was there as well, holding on to the inside of his chest as if wrapping desperate fingers around his ribs, determined not to let go—   His head snapped back and he tasted blood as Thomas’s shadowy form erupted from his chest, thrusting the invading ghost out with him and holding it at arm’s length. “Possessive, are you?” Xavier managed, reaching blindly for the trap and finding it thankfully intact. He maneuvered it closer to where the ghost was writhing in Thomas’s grip, trying to ignore the warning ache in his chest. “You know it.” The German ghost was solid enough now for Xavier to see his uniform and the grim set of his jaw as he fought Thomas’s grasp. Xavier’s thumb slipped clumsily off the trap’s trigger the first time he tried it, and then slipped again. The increasing pain was becoming a problem. Finally he hit it solidly, and watched in satisfaction as the ghost became a rushing fog that swirled into the trap and disappeared. His vision blurred, and he realized he hadn’t breathed in some time. He spread one hand in warning, and felt the soul rush back into his chest, its grip tightening, but still not as firm as it had been even a few hours before. Xavier spread his hand across the soul cage, a habitual gesture that still brought irrational comfort. Not much time. But enough to finish the business at hand. “Your turn, now,” he said to the English airman’s ghost, as lightly as he could manage. “Don’t dawdle, we haven’t got all day.” She slipped down from her perch and approached the trap, hanging back a healthy distance from its electric hum. “What happens after this?” “There’s an air base in Manchester where we’ll empty the traps. It’s far enough from where you died that you’ll have no trouble moving on.” And considerable trouble doing anything else, with no death energies to give her a grip on the world of the living. “I mean...what happens after that? Where do we go?” “I’m not going to find out,” he said. She met his eyes, something like sympathy kindling in her expression, bearable from someone already dead. “I am sorry,” she said, and then bolted away from the trap. He already had his gloved hand out to catch her. “So am I,” he said, and crammed her ghost into the mouth of the trap, thumbing the switch to suck the swirl of angry fog inside. Footsteps clattered on the metal decking, and an engineer stuck his head in, probably in answer to alarms from whatever essential piece of machinery the German ghost had employed in his attempt to kill Xavier. “What’s all this?” “Tell the captain I’ve taken care of his pest problem,” Xavier said. “And that he can drop me in Manchester. I’m going to sleep until then.”   The moment he closed his eyes he could feel Thomas lying beside him, as if they were ordinary lovers indulging in a late morning lie-in. “You could be wrong,” Thomas said. “I think my clock keeps good time.” Even in the dream, he could feel the ache in his chest, his hands and feet cold. “I hear Gottlieb thinks that the shattergun doesn’t really destroy the soul, just keeps it from being able to manifest as a ghost.” “Gottlieb is a German.” “Does that make him wrong?” “Morrow thinks his work is fundamentally unsound.” “For Christ’s sake.” “Morrow has occasionally been wrong,” Xavier said, but he couldn’t believe the world was fundamentally merciful enough for any part of him to survive when the link between Thomas’s soul and his body rotted away. They would put him in the ground, and that would be the end. “How long?” Thomas asked finally, his voice more even. “Your guess is as good as mine.” “You’re the ratcatcher. I was just an ordinary aviator. Blow those men down for king and country, yes, sir.” Thomas saluted jauntily, rolling away from Xavier in bed to do it. The ache in his chest worsened, and he ignored it. “A day or two, I should think. Time enough to report to Morrow and offload these poor sods.” “Maybe Morrow can do something.” “We’ve discussed the problem. He hasn’t been optimistic.” Morrow’s soul cage had lasted for months longer than Xavier’s own bloody improvisation would have, but it was still failing, the link between Thomas’s soul and its electric cage fraying faster every hour. “A day or two,” Thomas said. “Yes.” Xavier was certain it wouldn’t be two. He slept until Hedrick shook his bunk to wake him. “Manchester,” Hedrick said. “Come on, sleeping beauty.” “It’s a harder job than you’d think,” Xavier said, following Hedrick up to the observation deck to debark. “Or would you like me to put them back and you can have a go at rounding them up? You were right, by the way. One of them was a Jerry, and up to considerable mischief.” “I suppose that’s patriotic, by his lights,” Hedrick said. “But I’ll tell you this, if I die up here, I’ll go quiet as a little lamb. No more fighting for me. I’ve had my share and that’s a fact.” He clapped Xavier on the shoulder. “Next time I’m in Manchester I’ll stand you a drink.” “Have one for me,” Xavier said, and stepped onto the waiting gangplank.   The air base towered above Manchester, an iron tree twenty stories high with jutting piers and thrumming generators that made the floor gratings shudder under Xavier’s feet. Morrow met Xavier on the pier. “Good news,” he said, falling in beside Xavier as he walked. “I think I have a solution to your problem.” “You said it was insoluble.” Hope rose unbidden in his throat, a hard knot that he swallowed down ruthlessly. “I’ve worked out a technical solution. A side application, actually, of another process. Not that way,” he said, as Xavier turned toward the end of the pier, eager now to release the souls in his care and free himself to find out what Morrow had concocted. “Bring the trap down with you.” Xavier frowned, but followed Morrow to the lift cage. It clattered downward, descending through a hell of industrial machinery past levels that bustled with airmen and engineers down to the quieter cargo bays. The lift stopped on the ground floor, generally deserted except when shipments of raw materials were brought in by truck. Bare electric lights swayed overhead, casting harsh shadows. “You have no idea how much we all owe you,” Morrow said as Xavier followed him out of the lift. “What we’ve learned about how to maintain a ghost’s link to physical objects—it’s invaluable.” “You mean physical objects like my body,” Xavier said. His chest was aching again, Thomas’s soul stirring uneasily in its housing. He wished Morrow would get on with it and either offer up whatever fix might help him or stop holding out hope. “Incidentally. Not most importantly.” Morrow had been leading him through the shadowy bay toward the heavy bulks of vehicles, and stopped now with his hand caressing the hard lines of a tank. Its turret swiveled toward Xavier, and he froze in momentary alarm. “There’s no danger, its guns aren’t loaded.” “I didn’t think these things were radio-controlled.” “They’re not.” Morrow drew a bulky pistol from his coat pocket that Xavier realized after a moment’s examination was a shattergun, though a smaller model than any he’d seen before. “Can’t you see it?” Thomas’s soul was writhing in alarm, and Xavier squinted at the tank, adjusting his goggles. When he turned them up to maximum sensitivity he could see the curl of smoke at the tank’s heart, swirling in tight unhappy circles and then battering itself against the walls of an invisible cage before returning to its circling. “It’s haunted,” Xavier said. “Inhabited,” Morrow said. “By a ghost with the power to control it without risking any living men.” His eyes were alight. “The next step in modern warfare.” “Its occupant doesn’t seem very pleased.” “They never like being in a trap. Surely you’ve learned that as a ratcatcher. There’s a certain discomfort involved in being bound into something other than a living body.” By discomfort Morrow generally meant excruciating pain. “How long can you keep it there?” “Indefinitely. Which provides a solution to your own problem, by the way.” He extracted a glowing puzzle-box of glass and metal from his pocket, something like the central cage within the maze of glass and wiring on Xavier’s chest. “But this is the real promise of it. There won’t be any more need for our men to leave the service just because they’re dead. No more excuses for desertion.” “I wouldn’t call it desertion.” “Retreating from the field,” Morrow said. “Going to their rest. Well, no one’s resting until this war is over.” The glitter in his eyes suggested that it had been long since he slept himself. “As long as it’s voluntary.” “Of course it’s voluntary.” Morrow brandished the shattergun and bared his teeth. “So far they’ve all preferred it to the alternative.” “I see,” Xavier said. He was very aware of the weight of the trap under his arm, the souls within it only dimly aware, but moving restlessly in response to Thomas’s agitation. “One of these is a German,” he said. “Not good material for your purposes.” “There’s an easy cure for that,” Morrow said, thumbing the safety off the shattergun. “Of course.” He wondered how long it would take for the German high command to hear about this, and how fast the order would go out to destroy any English soul found haunting German battlefields. It couldn’t take much longer for Gottlieb or someone equally clever on the other side to replicate Morrow’s process and fill the battlefields with machines powered by the unquiet dead. His vision swam, and he gritted his teeth in mingled panic and frustration—not yet—before he realized that Thomas was pulling him down into a waking dream, appearing at his side overlaid on the shimmering forms of tanks. “The man in that tank was a gunnery sergeant,” Thomas said. “A good soldier. He’s in incredible pain, and Morrow threatens him with the shattergun whenever he makes a credible effort to tear himself free.” Xavier spread his hands in acknowledgement, but did not reply. Morrow was in no state to hear objections to his plan, and if he objected too strongly, Morrow had the life-saving soul cage to withhold from him. The hope Morrow had kindled beat in his throat, a desperate desire to live at any cost. All he had to do was accept. “We’re dead men anyway,” Thomas said. “So we are,” Xavier said, and opened the trap. The ghosts erupted out of the trap and streamed as one toward Morrow. Thomas followed them, striding forward, and Xavier staggered back, his chest burning. “Xavier,” Morrow said, disapproving but not afraid yet. “So clumsy of me,” Xavier said. He managed to take a breath, and then couldn’t remember how to take another one. Morrow pointed the shattergun at Thomas’s chest, and Xavier strained to move, but his limbs felt filled with lead. Morrow pulled the trigger, but the gun didn’t fire. The safety was engaged again, and clearly stuck fast as Morrow struggled to disengage it. Xavier could make out some individual forms within the roiling mass of souls, the faces of dead men and women, all painfully young. The soul of the woman airman hung back, reaching into the tank with both hands, tugging the ghost inside free of its metal bulk. Other ghostly hands were on the shattergun, twisting it in Morrow’s hand, pressing its muzzle toward his temple. Morrow tugged at the gun, and then fought for it, still looking more annoyed than afraid. For a moment Xavier met Thomas’s eyes. He knew he should shake his head, forbid murder, but he took refuge in the weariness that made shaking his head a Herculean task. The ghosts were moaning, now, a rising wail of single-minded purpose. Even without goggles, Morrow looked as if he could hear them now, or perhaps he only felt their chill as they swarmed him, writhing against his skin. “You’re all dead men,” Morrow said. There was acceptance in their voices. Their grip on this world was loosening, the pull of whatever lay beyond growing stronger by the second. Now, he mouthed in choking silence, and he saw Thomas nod, his eyes smiling. It seemed all right then to let his eyes close. He heard, rather than saw, the safety catch on the shattergun give, and as if from a long way away he heard it fire.   Time passed, and went on passing. He could feel hands inside his chest, holding desperately tight to his ribs, familiar and yet strange. The metal grating of the floor was cold against his cheek. He lifted his head. Hurry, someone urged. Xavier tried to stand, and failed. He crawled instead, inching his way toward Morrow’s still form. Morrow’s chest was moving shallowly, but his stare was sightless. He felt across the grating until he found the soul cage that had fallen from Morrow’s hand. It felt warm even through his glove. He tore open Morrow’s collar and pressed it to Morrow’s skin. Wires sprouted from it, burrowing into bare flesh. He felt a surge of envy, and the presence within him writhed in denial and anger, holding on tighter. Morrow opened his eyes. “Maybe not such dead men,” he said, the voice Morrow’s but the tone teasing and familiar. “Morrow?” “I expect I had better be.” “If you’re in there ...” Xavier spread his hand across the soul cage on his chest. “Airman Anna Lambert,” the woman airman said, as close as if she were sitting on his lap, not a position he’d ever been in with a woman. He could feel her amusement at that thought. “You’d better get used to it, since I don’t want to die and neither do you.” “Pleased to meet you.” “Such pretty manners, yet. I think we’ll do all right.” She retreated back into the soul cage, settling in like a cat turning round before curling into its basket. Morrow sat up cautiously, fingering the soul cage where it pulsed against his skin. “We need to find another one of these to house your passenger in the long term,” he said, and then frowned. “Unless he made only one?” “Morrow never made only one of anything.” Xavier looked around at the empty trap and the motionless tank. Souls still roiled within the others, aching to be ripped free. But first things first. “What are we going to say happened here?” “I don’t know what you mean,” Morrow said, looking at him with Thomas’s most level gaze. “I admit I’m not feeling...entirely myself. A touch of shell shock, maybe. Requiring a holiday from my work while I figure out what in blazes Morrow was doing here and how to give the impression I understand it.” “His mind is gone?” “Gone wherever shattered souls go. Gottlieb might still be right.” “I’m not going to weep for Morrow either way,” Xavier said. “I’m Morrow. You’d better keep that straight.” “A touch of shell shock myself,” Xavier said. “I don’t know what I was saying.” “Think nothing of it, old chap,” Morrow said, and turned to regard the tanks. “Gruesome things, aren’t they? I think we’ll be writing this off as a failed experiment.” “You mean that you’ll be writing it off,” Xavier said. “If you can transplant Lambert here into more permanent housing without accident—I expect Morrow left good notes—” “I devoutly hope so.” “Then I’ve got work to do in the field. This war won’t stop making ghosts.” He felt a twinge of loss at the thought of making those bloody rounds without Thomas curled under his breastbone, and told himself angrily not to be a fool. “Kiss him, for Christ’s sake,” Lambert said. “I would.” Xavier coughed, and Morrow looked at him in alarm. “My passenger has an unfortunate sense of humor,” he said by way of explanation. “That ought to suit you,” Morrow said. He looked as if he felt a certain degree of loss himself. It would have been madness to make any such gesture in the air base, but Xavier reached out and caught his hand, and Morrow held it, his rough fingers unfamiliar in Xavier’s own. “I’m still here,” Xavier said, and went on breathing.   END   "Ratcatcher" was originally published in Mothership Zeta and is copyright Amy Griswold, 2016. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, leaving reviews on iTunes, or buying your own copy of the Summer 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy. You can also support us by picking up a free audiobook at  www.audibletrial.com/glittership. Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a GlitterShip original, "The Girl With All the Ghosts" by Alex Yuschik.  

It’s our 200th episode! Let there be cake. This month: CAKE What deliciousness are you pairing with this month’s episode?   WHAT’S NEW ON THE INTERNET Aurealis noms: https://aurealisawards.org Nebula noms: https://nebulas.sfwa.org/2018-nebula-finalists-announced/ Tansy news: Creature Court release, and Nullus Anxietas Discworld Convention April 12-14. Jennifer Kent’s Tiptree TV series in development https://www.femalefirst.co.uk/movies/movie-news/guillermo-del-toro-jennifer-kent-working-horror-film-together-1181685.html Also a Tiptree documentary https://roxannesamer.com/tip-alli/ Antimatter Pod: https://antimatterpod.podbean.com   JOANNA RUSS BOOK CLUB: (starts around 36:00) How to Suppress Women’s Writing: Chapter 7, Isolation CULTURE CONSUMED: Alisa: Russian Doll; The Umbrella Academy; I Met a Traveler, Connie Willis. Tansy: ATA Girls, Team Starkid: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals, Misrule by Jodi McAlister Alex: Tides of the Titans, Thoraiya Dyer; a lot of Ben Aaronovitch (Peter Grant novels); Umbrella Academy (not finished yet!) Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at http://www.patreon.com/galacticsuburbia  - which now includes access to the ever so exclusive GS Slack - and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!

Main Fiction: "Saving Tiamaat" by Gwyneth JonesOriginally published in The New Space Opera.Gwyneth Jones is a writer and critic of genre fiction. She's won the Tiptree award, two World Fantasy awards, the Arthur C. Clarke award, the British Science Fiction Association short story award, the Dracula Society's Children of the Night award, the P.K.Dick award, and the SFRA Pilgrim award for lifetime achievement in sf criticism. She also writes for teenagers, usually as Ann Halam. She lives in Brighton, UK, with her husband and two cats called Ginger and Milo; curating assorted pondlife in season.Narrated by: Abra Staffin-WiebeAbra Staffin-Wiebe loves dark science fiction, cheerful horror, and futuristic fairy tales. Dozens of her short stories have appeared at publications including Tor.com, Escape Pod, and Odyssey Magazine. She lives in Minneapolis, where she wrangles her children, pets, and the mad scientist she keeps in the attic. When not writing or wrangling, she collects folk tales and photographs whatever stands still long enough to allow it See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Interview With Ian Watson Ahead Of The Maldon And Tiptree Match

Breakfast heavyweights this week; we meet Liz Baker of Wilkins & Sons and Scott Davies from Hilltop Honey As producers of this show, we often take pleasure in arranging our recording days so that our presenters are drinking some sort of strong alcohol early in the morning. Maybe we've turned a new leaf now though, because we arranged a session which was quite breakfast themed…and this was recorded on a sunny London morning. Go us!  It was good timing for Holly Shackleton, who joined for the first time as guest presenter. The Editor of the Speciality Magazine came to us on an empty stomach…shame on her. You don't need much introduction to our guests…Tiptree and Hilltop Honey are two brands which have cracked the supermarkets in UK and both are favourites of ours when it comes to a breakfast spread. We were delighted to chat to Liz Baker from Wilkins & Sons – makers of the Tiptree brand. They know what they're doing; they've been going since 1885, have survived two World Wars, a hurricane, and have even had a visit from The Queen. Like your jams and preserves…these guys are for you. Next up, there was a buzz around the studio…who can guess what we were talking about? That's right honey, we bee talking honey. We had Scott Davies of Hilltop Honey come to the studio to explain how he turned from ‘normal' jobs to be a beekeeper and the maker of some amazing honey products. We learned the difference between normal products and ‘Manuka Honey' but there was one taster which had Sue running for the water…

This is the first episode of Season 2. I hope you enjoy it. We will begin releasing episodes to the public bi-weekly on July 10th. The Story: Jeffy has turned himself in for the murder of his friend Timmy over a rare card in a game. The murder is an accident, by black hole, and Jeffy, according to his mother, is the child of extra-terrestrial beings. But what happens to the lives of ordinary people while a child remains missing? The Author: N. K. Jemisin’s work has been multiply nominated for the Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy Award; shortlisted for the Crawford, the Gemmell Morningstar, and the Tiptree. She has won a Locus Award for Best First Novel and Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Awards. In 2016, she became the first black person to win the Best Novel Hugo for The Fifth Season. Her short fiction has been published in pro-markets Clarkesworld, Postscripts, Strange Horizons, and Baen’s Universe; semipro markets Ideomancer and Abyss & Apex; and podcast markets (mostly Escape Artists) and print anthologies. Nora is a member of the Altered Fluid writing group. Nora has been a counseling psychologist and educator, hiker and biker, and a political/feminist/anti-racist blogger. She currently writes the New York Times book review column Otherworldly, in which she covers the latest in Science Fiction and Fantasy. Find her at http://nkjemisin.com/ and on Twitter @nkjemisin The Actress: Tatiana Grey is a critically acclaimed actress of stage, screen, and the audio booth. She has been nominated for dozens of fancy awards but hasn’t won a single damned thing. She does, however have a feature film hitting the festival circuit called Serious Laundry. She lives in Brooklyn, New York. See more about Tatiana at www.tatianagrey.com tatianagomberg@gmail.com

James Tiptree Jr., pseudonym for Alice Sheldon, was one of the genre’s best short story writers. She died 30 years ago this year, but her stories live one. Today, Tiptree is counted among the big feminist writers of the 60s and 70s, but is probably mostly remembered for passing as a male writer and fan … Fortsätt läsa Sweconpoddar 54 – We remember James Tiptree Jr. →

Post-cake and post-birthday we talk Kickstarter, Tiptree and Hawking: plus the Rights of Women.  Thanks for the cake love! WHAT DO WE CARE ABOUT THIS WEEK? Tansy’s Kickstarter :D Bring back the Creature Court Stephen Hawking died Tiptree winner, shortlist & longlist announced. Kitschies shortlist CULTURE CONSUMED: Alex: Olympe de Gouges, The Declaration of the Rights of Women; Lord of the Rings films; Fringe re-watch Tansy: Jessica Jones S2 & Tor.com essays, Rise, The Underwater Ballroom Society (Ysabeau Wilce), Get To Work Hurley Ep 8 Please send feedback to us at galacticsuburbia@gmail.com, follow us on Twitter at @galacticsuburbs, check out Galactic Suburbia Podcast on Facebook, support us at Patreon - which now includes access to the ever so exclusive GS Slack - and don't forget to leave a review on iTunes if you love us!

Established in 1885, Wilkin & Son have always shown entrepreneurial spirit. Starting out as farmers of soft fruit they diversified to jam making, going on to make marmalades, honey and fruit gin liquers. The company has now established a chain of tea rooms across Essex, the latest recently opened in Chelmsford. Scott Goodfellow explained to Ken Crowther why he thinks they are so popular.

Part of the apple family, the fruits of the quince are used to produce the traditional jelly. However, unlike an apple the fruit is much harder and has to be sliced to be eaten. The growers at Wilkin and Son in Tiptree check the quince on a weekly basis to see if they are ready to be picked as Andrey Ivanov told Ken Crowther.

The Wilkin family have been growing a number of different fruits at their Tiptree farm since the 1800s. Andrey Ivanov the Farm Manger met up with Ken Crowther in one of the polytunnels to talk about their method for growing a successful crop of raspberries for their preserves and gin liquer.

The new growing system at Wilkin & Sons at Tiptree is up and running and have been growing strawberries for some time. Ken Crowther met up with Farm Manager Andrey Ivanov to find out how it’s all working out.

This week we are joined by Nebula, Clarke, Tiptree, Campbell, and World Fantasy Award winner Geoff Ryman to discuss his important new project, 100 African Writers of SF/F, which sees Ryman traversing the African continent meeting new creators of science fiction and fantasy to discuss their careers, their work and the places they find themselves working.   We also discuss the recently announced 2017 nominations for the African Speculative Fiction Society's Nommo Award, which will be presented later this year, and a diverse range of other work.  Toward's the end of our discussion Geoff mentions Adofe Atogun's novel, Taduno's Song which we promised to list here so listeners could find it. As always, we'd like to thank Geoff for making the time to join us, and hope you enjoy the podcast. If you'd like to do some further reading in African SFF some resources are listed below. We'd also strongly recommend checking out the voters packet for the Nommo Awards, which will be released shortly. Some online resources: Omenana Speculative Fiction Magazine Jalada - A pan-African writers' collective AfroSF Facebook Group DADA Books - delightful reading Chimurenga - A pan African publication of writing, art and politics African Fantasy Reading Group

TITLE:  Riviera Firefly talks with Tina Silver - serial mumpreneur with businesses in the UK and in France . We talk to her about how she started and of course about the stunning “Le  Mas Candille”  5* hotel with its Candille Spa and Michelin starred gastronomic restaurant. SERIES: Lifestyle and Health EPISODE: 10   Riviera Firefly podcast is your online show where we chat about  living on and visiting the French Riviera and the Côte d'Azur.    We cover topics such as Education for children and adults, Places to visit, Health and lifestyle, hobbies and leisure and have lots of fun here in the Alpes Maritimes. We also talk to inspiring local entrepreneurs and small businesses about how they started their careers in France, dealing with administration and what brought them here in the first place. Topical issues such as Brexit and what this means to expats will also be covered in 2017. Our online directory and magazine can be found on www.rivierafirefly.com     THIS EPISODE In Riviera Firefly Episode 10 Antonia talks with mumpreneur Tina Silver . Tina is originally from the UK . After school she worked in Childcare . She had a passion for tennis and these led to her setting up the Academy Health Club and Spa in Harrogate. An opportunity led to them buying a hotel “Le Mas Candille and Candille Spa” which they have transformed into  a luxury 46-bedroom hotel with a Michelin-starred restaurant, in Mougins, south of France KEY POINTS What to expect from the programme Tina shares so much with us ... Childhood memory ..back at school in Tiptree in Essex .. fruit picking ! working in childcare and special needs How Tina moved into the Academy Health Club and Spa industry .. Tennis  Moving from a barn to an academy spa pool creche ..still going strong 22 years later! If you are looking for something probably others are too .. do your research, tweak, be flexible but go for it! Installing small spas and gyms into hotel chains.. Wow and How! Responsibility as a business owner to employees. Le Mas Candille .. what did you buy originally? Any renovating challenges .. have a good team but business can be challenging' the swimming pool planning problem’  Michelin Stars!! They change the menus but you can still order your favourites they are there to serve! After work Fridays .. go and 6 p.m. - 10 p.m. February - April wine platters of food, Free trial of some of the treatments and well being e.g. shiatsu, threading or there may be theatre. See http://www.lemascandille.com/en/hotel/le-mas-candille-events/  Don’t be scared by the 5* hotel tag come and try out the  Afternoon Teas  Relaunching the Spa …ESPA Sue Harmsworth is the founder.http://www.espaskincare.com/  Family business will they be taking on the Silver Empire.. Tips: Limone skiing ..Walk around the stunning Cap d’Antibes .. Sports Plage Plage de Midi Cannes .. St Honorat Beautiful region lets promote it! Funny customs - the end of year party How to meet people .. just go for it .. keep at it - it takes time..get into the community and don’t stay in the expat bubble! Top books: 'Nudge' Richard Thaler .. Jab Jab Jab Right Hook Gary Vaynerchuk recommended at the Social Media Marketing World San Diego..Magic Kingdom for Sale - Sold Terry Brooks. Some business tips … don’t always sell .. use videos .. ask questions ..find your niche and find your platform .. get into storytelling. Mantra: Follow your dreams and don’t regret.    Wasn’t that just brilliant ..? We learnt so much about some great local must visit places but also some total business gems no matter how big or small you are .. I’m going to have to listen again! I am writing right now a to do note an action to take time out go to the after work party and breath in that view maybe I’ll see you there ?? I also want to check out a treatment and the ESPA range this year with Valentine’s and Mother’s day coming up there is a hint there for you  Mr B! So note to selves .. don’t be be scared of the 5 stars let’s enjoy and support this fabulous local family run business.   OK fireflies that’s a wrap thanks for listening.   #cotedazurnow #cotedazurfrance #cotedazurliving    IMPORTANT  LINKS MENTIONED Facebook http://www.facebook.com/LeMasCandille  Website in English bit.ly/Lemascandille  LinkedIn Hotel Le Mas Candille Google+ Le Mas Candille YouTube Le Mas Candille Amyporterfield podcast ..http://www.amyporterfield.com/category/podcast/  Limone Ski resort: .www.limonepiemonte.it    Our sponsor KidooLand celebrates their 10th anniversary this year! This episode was brought to you by KidooLand The Little English School on the French Riviera. Running classes and holiday camps for children age 0-16 years and workshops for grown ups too! In Vallauris Sophia Antipolis and Biot and with AdoLand visiting the Côte d’Azur www.kidooland.com www.rivierafirefly.com Copyright 2017.  

Ken Crowther has been back to the fruit farms of Wilkin and Sons in Tiptree as he tries to escape the frost and cold. He met up with Andre at the new growing system the company has been installing over the last year. Andre explained to Ken how the poly tunnel will work in the future.

The quince trees in the fruit orchards of Wilkin and Sons in Tiptree are waiting for the first frosts of the season so the fruit can be picked. The fruits are looking yellow and ready to eat. However, if you took a bite it would initially taste nice but leave an unpleasant sensation in your mouth as Tiptree farm manager Dan told Ken Crowther.

The strawberry season may well be over for now at Wilkin & Sons farm in Tiptree, but the raspberries are well and truly in flavour. Ken Crowther caught up with farm manager Andre to try some of the crop.

A new weather-proof structure at fruit growers Wilkin & Son at Tiptree in Essex has finally been finished. The size of large greenhouse and polythene clad the inside of the structure is home to racks of planted strawberries. It’s the first of its kind in the UK, and they are rightly proud as Anton Thurgood explained to Ken Crowther.

Last year work began on a new state of the art facility at Tiptree fruit farms in Essex. Work has continued apace over the last few months and the site is close to completion. Ken Crowther has been back to see the progress and talk to Anton Thurgood about what the new unit will mean to the company.

Her Last Breath Before Wakingby A.C. WiseShe is a city haunted by a ghost.When the architect dreams, her sinews are suspension bridges, her ribs vaulting arches, her bones steel I-beams, and her blood concrete. In her dreams, the city is pristine and perfect. She is perfect.The architect has a lover who is afraid to sleep. At night, the lover lays her head against the architect’s chest. Instead of breath and pulse, she hears the rumble of high-speed trains.Full transcript after the cut.----more----Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 21 for February 2, 2016. I am your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you.Today's story is "Her Last Breath Before Waking" by A.C. Wise.Before I get to the story, I just wanted to mention that GlitterShip is currently eligible for the Best Fancast category of the Hugo Awards. I wasn't really sure if GlitterShip was a "fancast" or a "semiprozine" but I thought I should check just in case anyone asked me.That said, if you like GlitterShip, the best thing you can do is tell your friends to start listening. If they're interested in LGBTQIA short fiction but are unable to access audio (or just don't like it!), they can read all of the GlitterShip stories on our website at glittership.comA.C. Wise's short stories have appeared in Clarkesworld, Apex, Shimmer, and, The Year's Best Dark Fantasy and Horror 2015, among other places. Her debut collection, The Ultra Fabulous Glitter Squadron Saves the World Again, was published by Lethe Press in October 2015. In addition to her fiction, she co-edits Unlikely Story, and contributes a monthly Women to Read: Where to Start column to SF Signal. Find her online at www.acwise.net.Our guest reader this week is Amanda Fitzwater.Amanda Fitzwater is a dragon wearing a human meat suit from Christchurch, New Zealand. A graduate of Clarion 2014, she’s had stories published in Lethe Press’ “Heiresses of Russ 2014”, “Daughters of Frankenstein: Lesbian Mad Scientists”, and recently an essay in Twelfth Planet Press’ “Letters to Tiptree”. Look out for stories coming soon from Shimmer Magazine and The Future Fire. As a narrator, her voice has been heard across the Escape Artists Network, on Redstone SF, and Interzone. She tweets under her penname as @AJFitzwater   Her Last Breath Before Wakingby A.C. WiseShe is a city haunted by a ghost.When the architect dreams, her sinews are suspension bridges, her ribs vaulting arches, her bones steel I-beams, and her blood concrete. In her dreams, the city is pristine and perfect. She is perfect.The architect has a lover who is afraid to sleep. At night, the lover lays her head against the architect’s chest. Instead of breath and pulse, she hears the rumble of high-speed trains.The architect stands on the balcony of her close apartment looking over the city-that-is and seeing the city-that-might-be. She smokes thin cigarettes and mentally replaces the burnt-out factory and its blind-eye smashed windows with a row of gleaming, silver towers. Once she builds them, her towers will scrape the stars.“The city is rotten,” she says; she doesn’t turn around.“I like the city,” says the architect’s lover, so softly she might not be heard. “It’s where we met.”But the architect isn’t listening. Her hands sketch forms on the air, rewriting the view with shimmering art deco buildings, glistening fountains, and wide, chilly plazas.The architect’s lover creeps outside to stand beside the architect. She hates visiting the architect here; it’s too high. The wind plucks at her. She doesn’t like seeing the city spread out this way, reduced to brick and wood, stone and smudges of light. Her own apartment is close to the ground, where she can step out the door and feel worn cobblestones beneath her feet.Sometimes, even though she knows the architect would disapprove, the architect’s lover goes outside barefoot. She stands in her doorway and breathes in the stench of factories, blanketing the city in smoke. She breathes in the crackling, golden scent of fresh bread from the bakery on the corner. She breathes in the rotting geraniums in her neighbor’s window box. But most of all, she breathes in the stink of the river, because once upon a time it smelled like the promise of a new world.On those days, the architect’s lover curls her toes around the worn-smooth cobbles and drinks in the life of all the people who came before her — every horse’s hoof, every shoeless urchin, every factory-man and whore, every rainfall wearing the cobbles as round as they are now. It makes the city feel alive. It comforts her.More than once, she has tried to show the architect her city, the one she sees with her feet curled around the cobblestones, but the architect only frowns. The architect has plans. The architect’s lover would re-write the city with new-forged memories; the architect would re-write it with glass and chrome.The architect slides her arm around her lover’s waist, drawing her closer to the view, but she’s still looking at the city.“One day this will be beautiful,” the architect says.The architect’s lover looks at the architect instead of the city — the plane of her cheekbones, the sweeping lines of her neck and throat, the dark spiral of her hair.“It’s beautiful now,” she says.In the morning, the architect’s lover finds plans scattered throughout the apartment. She lay beside the architect all night, listening to the high-speed rumble of dreams moving under the architect’s skin. The architect couldn’t have drawn the plans. She must have shed them from her body in her sleep like unwanted skin.In two weeks, a tower rises where the architect’s hands traced the air, even though there have been no work crews, no scaffolds, no sound of hammers and nails. Like the plans, the architect must have dreamed it, brought it into being by force of will.The architect’s lover cannot remember what stood there before the tower, if anything at all. This makes her weep, sitting alone in a café near the river, where the architect will not see. The architect’s lover wants to remember everything about the city, imprint it on her bones: here is where she held the architect’s hand, there is where they watched long barges pole down the canal. If she can keep the city from changing, maybe she can keep the architect from changing as well.People pass the café where the architect’s lover sits, but no one seems to notice the tower. It has always been there. They take it for granted; this is the way the city is meant to be. When she tries to ask about it, people merely shrug. They walk faster; they look at the architect’s lover with strange, indulgent smiles. They shake their heads before going about their days.The next time the architect’s lover visits, the architect calls her out onto the balcony. She points to the tower that has always been there.“You see?” the architect says, indicating the top of the tower, a pyramid of glass all lit up with giant spotlights and faceted like a jewel. “One day I’ll buy you a diamond bigger and brighter than that one. I’ll string stars around your waist and wrap moonlight around your throat. I’ll drape you in fur and put pearls and feathers in your hair. You’ll never want for anything.”The architect’s lover shudders; she imagines drowning under all that weight.The architect’s lover still longs to become the architect’s wife some day, even though she fears she will die of neglect if she does, so long as she doesn’t die of a broken heart first. She has tried not to love the architect every way she knows how, but her heart keeps circling back to the day they met. It is a fixed point in time, and for the architect’s lover, it will never change.They were both strangers in the city, recognizing in each other someone else who had not yet learned to call it home. They discovered it together, exploring every street, every alley, every rooftop and doorway. As they did, the architect’s lover wrote each location on her heart, remembering the way the architect looked when she touched that lintel, this railing. The architect’s lover never saw the city until she saw it through the architect’s eyes, and now they are inextricably intertwined. After so long adrift, these twin points, architect and city, anchored her. In the secret places inside her skin and her bones, her name for both architect and city is home.What secret name the architect has for her, the architect’s lover does not know. This, she does know: The architect never learned to name the city home and she will rewrite all the places they’ve ever been together — the smoky café where they first met, drinking absinthe and watching bloated corpses float down the river; the crumbling bridge where they shared their first kiss, the architect tasting of heady wine and the architect’s lover tasting of nothing at all; the factory where they first fucked, the rough brick against the architect’s lover’s back, and broken glass crunching under their boots. Even the rotten pier where the boats that brought them both from different places long before they knew each other first landed.Even so, the architect’s lover cannot fall out of love.All the places she has written on her heart will vanish. Her heart will remain. But when those places are gone, who will they be — the architect and the architect’s lover? Who will they be, separate and together? With no history, what hope can there be for their future?The architect’s lover is afraid the architect will rewrite her if she falls asleep. So she stays awake, eating cold, tart plums the color of new bruises. She smokes cigarettes she can’t stand the taste of, and drinks coffee so thick the spoon stands on its own when she forgets it halfway through stirring.She does all these things and tries not to think of the architect’s hands on her body when they fuck, placing causeways in the curve of her hip, a spiral staircase winding around her spine, a domed cathedral to replace her skull.She can’t tell the architect of her fear. She can’t tell her she’s afraid, or she’ll lose the architect even sooner. She is losing her. Has lost her. Will lose her again and again. She wants to lose her, and yet the architect’s lover is afraid of coming unmoored again, losing the only place she can call home.So instead she tries to imagine making herself vast enough to hold a city entire, her arms long enough to encompass bridges and canals, wrapped so tight nothing will ever crumble. Even in her dreams, in the rare moments she lets herself sleep, she fails.These are the architect’s dreams.One: She replaces her bones with scaffolding. Her eyes become window glass, shattering sunlight. Her jaw sings a bridge’s span, made musical by the tramping of a thousand feet. All through her are tunnels, connecting everything. Her veins are marble. Her foundation stone. Her heart a cavernous station thundering with countless trains. She is vast and contains multitudes. And she is beautiful.Two: She is very young and playing on the river bank with her brother and her cousin. It is summer and they are barefoot, squishing mud between their toes, feeling the wet, green life of fish and frogs and stilt-legged birds. They break off reeds from the shore and whip-thin branches from the overhanging trees, weaving them into impossible, organic structures. She is not the architect yet, in these dreams, but hers are always the strongest buildings. Her brother and cousin are too impatient, their fingers too quick. They splinter the reeds, snap the wood, and throw the wrecks into the sun-glinting water. They don’t want it badly enough. Her constructions can withstand anything, bound by her force of will.Three: She is very old, but ageless. Her skin, stretched taut over bone-that-is-not-bone, is so thin the light shines through it. There is metal everywhere she can fit it. She has carved away as many pieces of herself as she can and still walk, still breathe. She has cut windows in her flesh, replaced skin with glass so the delicate structures within, the winding catwalks and promenades, are visible. She is light, so light, but she abhors the body that remains, holding her down.At night, she calls her children to her. They come creeping from the shadows, their fingers bloody from tearing her city apart by day and building it anew as dusk falls. Metal spines protrude through their skin. Electricity sparks in their bones, makes their eyes glow. They never speak, but they crackle. She has given them whips to hold, downed power lines with frayed copper ends. At her bidding, they flay her, drawing blood from her remaining skin. She closes her eyes, cries ecstasy from a throat clogged with emotion. They are so perfect, her beautiful children, but it is never enough.She is never enough.Four: In her house near the river, she lies snugged tight between her brother and cousin, breathing in their dreams. Elsewhere in the house, her mother, father, and uncle snore. The door bursts open, shatters, raining splinters. Her family, all of them, is dragged from their beds, pushed barefoot into the snow.She can see her breath as they are marched, all in a line, to the river and forced out onto the frozen surface. Under the snow, the ice is impossibly blue, and under the blue, the water is impossibly black. She is separated from everyone but her mother, who grips her hand so tight their bones grind together, and refuses to let go. There are other families, nearly the whole village, teeth chattering, shivering, confused. One man protests, and a soldier in his warm coat and fur hat breaks the man’s nose with the butt of his gun. The man makes a choking noise. He spits blood on the ice, and one yellow-white tooth. He doesn’t protest again.One of the soldiers wears a star on his hat. He barks a command in a language she doesn’t understand, and two of his men go to either end of the shivering line. They walk slowly, with their guns drawn, and shoot every third person they come upon.One, two, three. Crack. One, two, three. Crack. Her father, uncle, and cousin are sixth, eighteenth, and twenty-first in line. Her mother is thirtieth, and she is thirty-first.Each bullet is the sound of the ice cracking, her heart breaking, the feel of her mother’s cold-chapped hand grinding against her bones then letting go as the force of gravity and the terrible color of blood upon the snow pull her down.Her brother survives. She survives. The solider with the star on his hat lays a heavy hand on her shoulder. He leans forward and breathes in her face, against her ear. His breath, the only hot thing on the frozen lake, smells of sausage and cheap whiskey.“Go,” he says. “Go, and take your brother with you. I want you to remember. I want you to carry this moment with you wherever you go.”There are tears on her lashes, freezing in place. She will never let them fall. They are perfect, inverted globes, holding the last image of her family. If they fall, they will shatter, and her family will be lost forever.This is what the architect dreams.The city changes. Weak and rotten flesh is scraped away to reveal shining bone. Towers rise. Bridges cross and re-cross the city. A train thunders from uptown to midtown and beyond, rattling windows paned in sparkling glass.The architect recruits an army of children, urchins with dirty fingers. The architect’s lover sees them in the shadows of old bridges, chipping away fragments of old stone. She sees them in the streets, hurling those chunks of stone through dirt-streaked windows, exploding brick dust from ancient buildings, hastening decay. She sees them digging between the cobbles, pulling them like teeth, prying between ancient boards until they snap. Their fingers are everywhere.She listens to the architect’s plans. She listens to the trains run beneath the architect’s skin when she sleeps. The city will never be finished, never be done. By night the children will build it up, by day the children will pull it down, and put new, shining structures in its place when the moon rises again.The city will never be complete. The architect will never be complete.Although they have never spoken of it, the architect and the architect’s lover disagree.To the architect’s lover, the river smells of promise, a particular promise that smells of her mother’s skin — fried onions, boiled cabbage, and harsh soap.To the architect, the river is the smell of sickness. It is the feel of her brother’s fevered skin under the palm of her hand. The river is the color of his eyes, glazed, muddy silt from its bottom occluding his sight. It is the sound of him parting blood-cracked lips at the end, rattling out one last breath, and calling her by her mother’s name. It is the memory of him surviving the ice, and dying — as so many others did — on the refugee-choked boat carrying them to a new life, a new shore.The architect is determined she will stitch the river closed. Her thread will be iron and steel, binding up the city’s wounds, sealing her brother’s ghost underneath its skin like a bruise, where it needs must fade.Sometimes the architect likes to imagine she never touched down on the city’s shore. When her brother died, she climbed up on the rail of the boat, crowded with so many stinking refugees, and let herself fall into the churned, muddy water. She sank, rag doll arms and legs drifting loose around her, hair trailing like weeds. She breathed out and out, silver bubbles rising toward the surface, the only bright and beautiful thing in all the muck. She did not jump, but sometimes she wishes she did. Sometimes, even though she knows it is not true, she convinces herself she did jump. The river swallowed her whole. Some other girl, a drowned girl, a ghost, entered the city in her place.At her core, who the architect truly is, is different. She is still under water, still exhaling, watching those bubbles rise. She is waiting. And one day soon, she will breathe in, light, perfect, and stripped clean. She will breathe in. And wake.She tries to tell her lover these things, but she knows her lover doesn’t hear them. Somewhere, somehow, they lost their way. They met in one city, and somewhere along the way, they diverged. They look at the city now, and they see different things. The architect wonders if she can ever build a bridge strong enough to pull her lover across. And if she can’t, what will happen to them, then?The architect’s lover takes to drinking. She drinks in cafes and bars along the ever-changing river, which she scarcely recognizes anymore.Is that the place where she met the architect? Or was it over there? What of the factory, the stone bridge? What of the taste of the architect’s skin, smoky with the factory’s ghosts, sweat-slick beneath her lover’s lips? What of absinthe cradled on the architect’s tongue, and their hands held palm to palm — so tight — bone to bone? So tight they will never let go. Where are the echoes of their heels cracking in rhythm, one, two, three, as they run from one place to the next, running wild into the future?The architect’s lover doesn’t recognize herself anymore. She doesn’t know where she fits — not on the streets, where cobbles no longer rise to meet the arches of her feet; not against the architect, where sharp juts of bone meet her fingers in place of the soft hollow of a throat, the gentle curve of a hip, or the warm swell of a breast.She drinks and she smokes until her memories blur, until their edges round and grow soft like the scarcely-remembered thousand-year cobble stones. The architect’s lover shouts at strangers, her words slurring as she tells them of factories and piers and bridges that never existed.She tells them of home.When she slips up and says she is the architecture’s lover, not the architect’s, no one corrects her.She is a ghost, in love with a city.And in time, because she is afraid and she doesn’t know how to fall out of love, the architect’s lover takes home a beautiful boy whose name she can’t be bothered to remember. She fucks him precisely because it means nothing. Smoking still more cigarettes, eating chilled and bruised plums, watching him sleep, she is terribly afraid she’ll marry him one day. Still never knowing his name, the architecture’s lover will use up her body bearing the beautiful boy’s children. Children who will become the monsters of the architecture’s dream.The architect, the architecture, is all angles and planes now, the glint of steel, concrete skin. The architecture’s lover doesn’t recognize anything anymore. She is a stranger in a city she once loved, a city that held so much promise. A city she called home.The architect’s lover remembers her mother putting her on a boat. There were so many boats in those days, all leaving from different places, but all traveling to the city — a place of promise, a place of dreams. She remembers clinging to her mother’s skirt, sobbing and not wanting to let go as her mother’s hands — red and blistered from washing — urged her up the wooden gangway.“It’s a better life,” her mother told her. “You’ll have opportunities I never had, things I can’t give you. You’ll be happy there, in time. Promise me you’ll try.”She remembers gripping the ship’s rail so hard her knuckles turned white, leaning out over the churning water, waving and straining her eyes until her mother was only a vanished speck on the horizon. Landing on the city’s shore didn’t take the pain away, but stepping from the boat’s swaying deck onto firm land once more, the architect’s lover straightened her spine, keeping her promise to try. Determined to make her mother proud.This is not the city she once called home.This city is hostile. It is like the place she came from, on a boat, so long ago, a place that pushed her out, not wanting her anymore. It does not love her. It barely knows she’s alive.And yet, still, she cannot fall out of love.The architecture’s lover looks at the beautiful boy whose name she doesn’t know, and tries to love him. Silent tears run down her cheeks; she doesn’t remember why.The architect stands on her balcony high above the shining city. Her city. Towers stab defiant at the sky, bridges stitch old wounds closed, trains hum deep underground, and the winking glass that is everywhere catches the sun. Strong and true, it will never crack, never break, never crumble.Her skin is planed clean, scraped thin. Still, it is too heavy for her bones. But there is time, she knows. This is only the beginning.The architect shades her eyes, and looks toward what was once the river. People stride along what are no longer banks, small as ants from up here. They are laughing, smiling. Women, sleek in cool silk the color of her towers. Men, in crisp suits the color of ice cream that will never melt. Their teeth are impossible in the sun. They don’t remember a life other than this one. She has made it so.Everyone should have the luxury of forgetting the times when they weren’t as happy as they must be now.Still, something tugs at the edges of the architect’s mind. There is a ghost in the city. The shadow of towers, spewing smoke, and the memory of a kiss, and salt-tasting skin against her lips haunt her mind. Before her marble skin, before the columns of her spine, the tension bridge of her jaw, before the diamond pane windows of her eyes, wasn’t she someone else? Wasn’t there someone who knew her as she was, and loved her just the same?There, amid the ant-bustle on the once-shores, is a lone girl. Her feet are bare and spattered with mud. She is looking straight at the architect, across all the distance, and the people part around her like water breaking around a stone. Like she isn’t there.The architect wonders: Is that her? Or someone she used to know?Even though she can’t see them from her balcony, the architect knows: The girl’s eyes are the color of stirred silt, and blue ice. There are weeds in her hair. She raises her hand — a drowned girl, waiting to breathe, waiting to rise from the river and come ashore — and waves to the architect, but she does not smile.The architect’s lover leaves the café. She is utterly lost. She recognizes nothing here.She goes toward the water, some vague memory pulling her. But the map written on her skin is muddled. The streets, everything she thinks she knows, has been re-written.The architect’s lover is looking for someone, but she doesn’t know who. No one looks familiar here. Except…Except there is a girl, standing and looking across the water. It is a girl the architecture’s lover almost knows. The girl has eyes like silt and ice. They remind the architect’s lover of home.The architecture’s lover raises her hand, catching the girl’s attention. The girl looks at her, and the architect’s lover falls to her knees. A name catches in her throat and stalls. She can’t remember. She weeps, and doesn’t know why. In her mind, there is one word, echoing persistently and meaning nothing: Home.The architect stands on her balcony, and looks at the girl and the water. For a moment, the architect thinks there is something she has forgotten. Then she puts the thought from her mind.Soon the city will be perfect. She will tear it down and rebuild it until it is so.The architect turns. She does not raise her hand to the girl on the shore. Or the weeping woman on her knees by the girl’s side.The architect goes inside. And she does not say goodbye.END"Her Last Breath Before Waking" was originally published in 3-Lobed Burning Eye in December 2013.This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library.Thanks for listening, and I'll be back on February 16th with "Into the Nth Dimension" by David D. Levine.

Are you jonesing for Jessica Jones? We know we are! Jonesing for Jessica discusses the hit Marvel and Netflix show Jessica Jones episode by episode. Graphic Policy Radio hosts Brett and Elana are discussing the series and are joined each week by special guests. For this week's episode the team is joined by Sarah McCarry and Elle Collins to discuss the sixth episode "AKA You're a Winner!" McCarry (The Rejectionist/@therejectionist) is the author of the novels All Our Pretty Songs, Dirty Wings, and About A Girl, and the editor and publisher of the chapbook series Guillotine. Her books have been nominated for the Norton Award and shortlisted for the Tiptree award, and she is the recipient of a fellowship from the MacDowell Colony. She has written for the New York Times Book Review, Glamour, Book Riot, Tor.com, and others. Sarah was a full-time advocate and case manager in domestic violence shelters for over a decade; she's currently the Media Co-Coordinator for The Doula Project, a volunteer-run New-York based organization that provides free compassionate care to people across the spectrum of pregnancy, including birth, miscarriage, and abortion. Elle is a writer and podcaster from the Appalachian region. Elle hosts Into It, a podcast about positivity and pop culture, as well as co-hosting the upcoming Hard Times Podcast, a queer feminist podcast about professional wrestling. Elle is a contributor at ComicsAlliance.com, as well as a staff member of Switchback Books, a feminist poetry press.

The Christmas pudding production might have finished production at Wilkin and Sons based in Tiptree, but it won’t be too long before they start production for Christmas 2016. As a 365 day operation, production continues all year to meet the demands of customers as Anton Thurgood told Ken Crowther.

There are two different types of strawberry being grown at Wilkin and Sons farm in Tiptree. One is grown in polytunnel and the other left uncovered. The everbearing strawberry plant produces at a different time of the year to the June bearing which was planted in late July and cropped in late September as grower Andre explained to Ken Crowther

Minghun: Unlikely Patron Saints, No. 5byAmy SissonA whisper of excitement echoes through the cave, or what I think of as a cave. She is coming, the minghun broker is coming, I hear or perhaps feel, like soft butterfly wings brushing my face. I strain to catch a glimpse of one of the others I know to be around me, but it is difficult to see faces. A flash of sleeve, whether plain or fancy, or a pale hand laid briefly on my arm is more likely.When she arrives, the minghun broker is far more tangible than the companions I sense around me, and her face seems familiar. She has been coming as long as I've been here, which may be months or years. It is whispered that she comes to us in her dreams, that she belongs to the world before. The others are always happy to see her because she offers something they cannot find for themselves.Full transcript appears under the cut.----more----[Intro music plays]Hello!Welcome to GlitterShip episode 17 for October 7, 2015. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you.Before we get to the story, I wanted to mention that the 2015 edition of the Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy is now out, and among other awesome stories, it includes short stories by two authors who have previously appeared in GlitterShip! Cat Rambo's "Tortoiseshell Cats Are Not Refundable" was picked up, as well as A. Merc Rustad's "How to Become a Robot in 12 Easy Steps," which you may remember from the first episode of GlitterShip.A quick glance through the table of contents also showed that while some of the stories came from fancy magazines like Tor.com, Asimov's, and Lightspeed Magazine, a few of the smaller magazines like Shimmer Magazine and Scigentasy had some awesome stuff come out last year. I hope that this encourages people to check out the rest of what Shimmer and Scigentasy publish!In terms of GlitterShip news, I'm still swamped-busy with a variety of things. You know, the move, grad school, scientific research, reading for the Tiptree this year, etc. This unfortunately means that a lot of GlitterShip related things have been dropped by the wayside. My top priority has been getting episodes out, since that's what you're all here for, but in the rest of October, I plan on:A) getting through the desperately outdated submissions that I still have because I'm a slow, slow, slow one person operation.B) adding, if nothing else, the patrons/supporters page to the website, finallyC) getting back on the KS rewards wagon.That said, if you're a newer listener to GlitterShip and enjoy what we do here, I've put up a Patreon account at www.patreon.com/keffy. The milestone goals right now are the maximum amounts needed to keep going after the Kickstarter funds run out next May. As I find other sources of funding, the milestones themselves may become easier to reach. We are still fully funded through May 2016 (episode 48) but I thought that it would be a good idea to start looking forward to the future.Anyway, if you enjoy GlitterShip and have a few bucks to spare per month, your patronage is much appreciated. However, the number one thing that we love is just more listeners, so please recommend us to your friends if we put out stories that you enjoy.Okay, on to the story:Our story today is "Minghun" by Amy Sisson, read by S.Qiouyi Lu.Amy Sisson is a writer, reviewer, and former librarian. Her short stories have appeared in Strange Horizons, Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet, and Sybil's Garage No. 7. She currently lives in Houston, Texas, with her NASA spouse and a large collection of ex-stray cats.We also have our awesome guest reader from episode 15 back to read to us again!Our reader this week is S. Qiouyi Lu. You can visit their site at http://s.qiouyi.lu/ and follow them on Twitter at @sqiouyilu.Minghun: Unlikely Patron Saints, No. 5byAmy SissonA whisper of excitement echoes through the cave, or what I think of as a cave. She is coming, the minghun broker is coming, I hear or perhaps feel, like soft butterfly wings brushing my face. I strain to catch a glimpse of one of the others I know to be around me, but it is difficult to see faces. A flash of sleeve, whether plain or fancy, or a pale hand laid briefly on my arm is more likely.When she arrives, the minghun broker is far more tangible than the companions I sense around me, and her face seems familiar. She has been coming as long as I've been here, which may be months or years. It is whispered that she comes to us in her dreams, that she belongs to the world before. The others are always happy to see her because she offers something they cannot find for themselves.So far the minghun has not sought me, and I am both sad and relieved. This time again, she glances at me with sympathy in her eyes, eyes that I know can actually see me, even when I cannot always see my own hand held up in front of my face. Then she moves on, calling softly until she finds the one she seeks.It is Chen Yinlan this time, and the others sigh with envy. The minghun stands before Yinlan and speaks, the waves of her voice spreading like ripples in a pond."I bring tidings from your parents, who wish me to say: 'Beloved daughter, you died very young and did not experience the unity of marriage. You are alone in the dark and we weep to think of you longing for companionship. We have come to know that Yang Xingwu and his wife have recently lost a son as they might lose a strong young leaf to the blowing wind. They have asked for betrothal so your souls might meet; we have consented, and have chosen this auspicious day for the marriage rites and feast. Please come share this celebration with us so that we might rest, knowing your soul to be united in harmony with that of your husband.'"The minghun pauses, and by this I am puzzled. In life such decisions do not belong to the bride, so why does the minghun ask the bride's blessing here? But ask she does, and the answer is always yes.I do not hear Yinlan's answer, but I know she has assented because I see her spirit flare briefly into something more vital before disappearing altogether. I feel Yinlan's absence for a time, before the press of spirits closes the gap.      The minghun too goes away, fading back to her world, and the cave seems more restless for a time before it settles down as much as it ever does. Always the spirits move among each other, searching and waiting and searching some more.Some of the spirits whisper that the minghun comes less frequently now, although how they can tell I do not know. In the old days, they say, parents understood the need for minghun, but modern views discourage the practice. Only in the rural provinces do grieving parents still act on behalf of their lost children, even if they must do so surreptitiously. I do not quite know where or when I am from, a city or a village, back then or just now; all possibilities seem equally improbable, as if this place is all I have ever known.The minghun has not yet come again since taking . . . Yinlan? -- I can't quite remember her name -- from us. And because there has been no sign yet of the minghun's return, I am startled to hear a voice, clear and strong, behind me. I turn to find eyes shining from the pale outline of a face. "Who are you?" the face asks."I am ... I am Liu," I say. "More than that I do not know.""It will come back to you," she says. "When you've been here a while it will start to come back.""What is a while?" I ask. "Who are you?" But she is already gone. I think of looking for her, but instead settle down to ponder her words. I try hard to remember something of the world before, and it is tiring, but finally I am rewarded with the memory of a baby gripping my finger with surprising strength. My nephew, I realize, my brother's son, an infant already so full of life that I know he will not depart too quickly as I did. I feel the squeeze of his tiny fingers again, and I rejoice still further when I am able to envision the weave of his blanket and hear my mother's kind laughter at the rapt adoration on my face."Someday you--" she begins, but I am wrenched back here and I do not hear what she says. I am consumed with sorrow over the things I have lost, and even more for the things I never had and never will. I think of Ping, my friend in the village, whose beauty was incomparable. She had looked at me in a special way, I thought, or perhaps I imagined it because I wanted it to be so.This time I feel the stranger's spirit before she speaks, and I turn to her."You begin to remember," she says. "I am Yan Lianghui.""I am Qin Liu," I answer. "I am from the village Qinjalao in the Shanxi Province. I am . . . I was only fifteen when I died, of illness because there was no money for a doctor. But my family loved me and I loved them and I am not ready to be dead." Suddenly words are spilling from me as fast as my lips can form them. Lianghui listens patiently, occasionally prompting me with a question or commenting with a smile that becomes more substantial as our conversation goes on.Time passes as Lianghui and I get to know one another, although I still do not know whether it is hours or weeks or months that unfold. She tells me delightful stories yet holds something back, something I sense she wishes to say. I am fascinated by her, and in spite of my shyness I find myself telling her of my sorrow that I will not see my nephew grow up."There are babies here, Liu, did you not know?" she asks gently, and suddenly I do know, and wonder how I could have been unaware. They do not cry as babies do, but I can feel them around me, waiting, puzzled, longing to be claimed by a family without knowing what a family is. I want to cry their sorrow for them, because females so young will not have parents arranging minghun for them. Indeed, some of the baby girls were almost certainly discarded by their parents.When the minghun comes again, I am surprised, for I have been distracted by Lianghui and the thoughts she has inspired. For the first time I realize that this is a different broker, that they have not always been the same person. Like the other ones who have come, this minghun moves among us, seeking the young woman whose parents have sent her, then reciting the greetings and invitation she has been asked to convey.The lucky young woman, Aimei, is about to consent."Wait, please," I say, to Aimei or the minghun or both. The minghun is surprised, and makes a sign as though to protect herself. She is accustomed to approaching spirits, not to being approached by them."I respectfully address you," I say, bowing my head. "Aimei has been fortunate that her parents have found a husband for her. But there are babies here, little girls whose parents cannot or will not make such arrangements. Can not Aimei take a baby with her to be part of her family?"Lianghui speaks softly from beside me. "And perhaps a boy child as well?"I am ashamed, for until now I have not thought of the little lost boys, who do not seem to reside with us here.The minghun stares at us in astonishment, her lined face unbelieving. "The parents have charged me with uniting Aimei and her betrothed, who will be buried together so that they may share the afterlife. How am I to locate the remains of the little ones if their parents do not come to me?""Please," I say. "Is there something you can do?""Yes," Aimei whispers. "I should like a child to care for."The minghun vanishes and Aimei cries out. I feel wretched, thinking that I may be responsible for preventing Aimei from finding her peace."Courage, Aimei," says Lianghui. "The minghun is wise and she will--"The minghun reappears, looking more translucent than usual, perhaps from exhaustion. "I have done as you asked," she says to Aimei. "I have found a family who mourn a baby girl and approached them with this most unusual request. Your parents were frightened but your mother pleaded with your father for his consent. I must find the child." She moves off and I see small vague lights in her path. Minutes or hours later she returns to us, holding a small bundle that begins to take shape. She offers it to Aimei, who cradles it in her arms. I tentatively reach forward and place my finger in the baby's hand, and feel a ghost-tear run down my face as the baby squeezes my finger and vanishes with Aimei. My hand is surrounded by emptiness, until Lianghui squeezes it in understanding.From that time on, Lianghui and I are seldom apart.The next time the minghun comes, she pauses before me. I am about to ask about the children, but she bows her head and speaks my name, which I had not told her upon our last encounter."Qin Liu," she says. "I bring tidings from your parents, who wish me to say--""My parents," I whisper in wonder. "My parents ... How long have I been here?""Two days, Qin Liu. You have been here two days and your parents are anxious to lay you to rest next to your betrothed, a young man also from the Shanxi Province who was snatched from his family only two weeks ago. They wish to bury you beside him so that you may have companionship in your afterlife--""No," I answer softly. "I have found my companionship in the afterlife." Lianghui catches her breath beside me but does not speak, and I go on. "I have found Lianghui, honored minghun, and I wish to stay here with her. We will help the girls and the women, and the babies who need a family. And if ever a time comes when no more need our help, perhaps you can lay my bones to rest with those of Lianghui.""I will do my best," she says, and bows her head once again."Please," I say. "Please tell my family that I love them. Tell them--" I cannot go on, but I do not have to, for the minghun smiles at me and I know she will find the words that escape me.Later -- hours, days, months -- I ask Lianghui how it can be that only two days had passed before the minghun came for me."It is only time, Liu, in a place that does not trouble itself with such things. It is only we who concern ourselves so." She is silent for a moment, and then she says softly, "I have waited for you for almost three hundred years.""Did no one else come?" I ask."Once before, I thought one had come. But though she loved me, she left when the minghun came for her, and I cannot blame her for that." Lianghui looks at me in wonder. "But you stayed," she says."I stayed," I answer. I take her hand, and I feel it become more solid every moment.END“Minghun: Unlikely Patron Saints, No. 5” was originally published in Strange Horizons in September 2007 and is also available to read at QuarterReads.This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library.Thanks for listening, and I’ll have another story for you on October 13th.[Music plays out]

With Christmas rapidly approaching the factory at Wilkin & Sons limited in Tiptree, Essex are busy preparing for the production of their brandy butter. Factory manager Dan Green spoke to Ken Crowther about their preparations for the festive season.

British strawberry growers Wilkin & Son are enjoying a good harvest which now extends into September and October. The use of polytunnels and new varieties has helped extend the season. Anton Thurgood, who is Farm Manager at the Tiptree farm, spoke to Ken Crowther.

John E. O. Stevens, Fred Kiesche and Jeff Patterson decided to get away from the Dog Days of August in the northeast United States and amble down to Australia* for some winter weather. While there they met up with Alisa Krasnostein, wearer of many hats (Ph.D. candidate, publisher with Twelfth Planet Press, podcaster with Galactic Suburbia). They discuss education, the doctoral process, publishing, podcasting, and (through a lucky coincidence) get into an extended discussion of James Tiptree, Jr. and the upcoming 100th birthday tribute book. By the end of the episode everybody has spent money and changed their reading plans going forward. More Tiptree! Why aren’t we celebrating the anniversary with more events? *No Hoarsemen actually went to Australia. Host Fred Kiesche, John E.O. Stevens and Jeff Patterson with Alisa Krasnostein.

Tiptree July Podcast

Science fiction writer James Tiptree Jr. wouldn't talk on the phone or appear in person. He developed friendships with contemporaries like Ursula le Guin and Philip K. Dick purely through letters. And he became a mentor to Chelsea Quinn Yarbro when she was an up-in-coming writer. But James Tiptree Jr. didn't really exist. He was the pen name of a 60-year old suburban housewife named Alice Sheldon. Biogrpaher Julie Philips says Sheldon's real life story was even more surreal than her alter ego. With readings by Erik Bergmann. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Lucy Boler talks to Charles Campion, food writer and Masterchef judge, about judging The Tiptree Word Bread Awards and what makes the perfect loaf. -- www.twitter.com/_InGoodTaste & www.twitter.com/z1radio www.facebook.com/zoneoneradio www.ZoneOneRadio.com

Back from Gotham and certain celebrations, Gary joins Jonathan in the Gershwin Room to discuss the newly released Tiptree shortlist, Hugo nominations, and to start what will be a continuing discussing of grimdark fantasy. As always, we hope you enjoy the podcast!

This last episode of The Writer and the Critic for 2012 sees your hosts, Kirstyn McDermott and Ian Mond, sink their teeth into non-fiction. But first they give a friendly shout-out to the brand spanking new podcast from Sean Wright, Adventures of a Bookonaut -- to which you should all go and listen right now -- as well as the entertainingly erudite Ambling Along the Acqueduct blog. (Kirstyn's brand spanking new novel, Perfections, might also garner a wee mention.) The duo then become embroiled in a debate about critics and authors and whether one person can or even should wear both hats, as well as whether or not critics need to take the feelings of authors into consideration -- regardless of what kind of spiffy headwear either of them might be donning at the time. The books up for discussion this month are Evaporating Genres, a collection of essays by Gary K. Wolfe (beginning 35:20), and James Tiptree, Jr.: The Double Life of Alice B. Sheldon, a biography by Julie Phillips (1:03:50). This thoughtful essay by Jonathan McCalmont is mentioned and, in the spirit of Alice Sheldon, Ian promises to begin writing Letters of Appreciation to authors whose work he has enjoyed. We will follow him up on this next year! There are no real spoilers here but if you have skipped ahead, then please tune back in at 1:39:50 for some closing remarks and (belated) holiday well-wishes. And now for the sad news ... The Writer and the Critic is on hiatus for a couple of months and won't be back until March 2013. The good news is that will give you plenty of time to read Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace and House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. Hopefully it will give Kirstyn and Ian plenty of time as well! Thanks to everyone who listened to The Writer and the Critic during 2012. Ian and Kirstyn love you all to bits and look forward to talking at you a whole lot more in 2013!

Episode 105, in which Jonathan joins Gary in achieving ConventionFail by failing to record a single podcast at Continuum 8 (the Australian National Science Fiction Convention), but instead gets to discuss the convention, the Writer & the Critic podcast, the Tiptree awards and Jonathan possibly having said too much elsewhere, and the recent death of Ray Bradbury.  All in all, an episode we hope you enjoy. We will be back this weekend with #106, where we hope to have Kij Johnson join us as a guest.

Evan and James DeRosa discuss ten stories from James Tiptree, Jr.'s collection Her Smoke Rose Up Forever. It takes a while.