You'll thank me for this ...

Problems, anyone? Apart from blog addiction, that is ...

Howzabout debt ... divorce ... bullying ... contracts ... identity theft ... Anything at all, in fact, associated with your rights and the law?

We do photos for a really excellent organisation called Advicenow that will give you all the help you need ... Their website has a great search facility, downloadable leaflets and has won a Plain English award. (Oh, and it's got luverley photos, of course.)

Check it out and bookmark for future reference. You never know ...

It ain't THAT bad ...

We all have our gripes with the state of publishing in this country, but things could be worse. A lot worse.

Ever heard of a Turkish novelist by the name of Elif Shafak? I hadn't 'til yesterday when I read a short article about her in the Independent. Apparently she's written a book about the Aremenian genocide, but that's not why she's in the news.

Next week, she goes on trial - accused of 'insulting Turkishness' in her book. As she says, it will be the first time the words of fictional characters will be judged in court!

Now I have no idea about the content of her book, and not much more, I'm embarassed to admit, about the events she depicts.

But I know one thing ... if the equivalent situation happened here, I'd be one of the first up against the wall. But I'd be in good company ...

Life calling ... are you receiving me?

It’s my belief that when you get sick, it’s your body sending you a message that all is not well and something needs to change. (Dis-ease of the mind?)

It took a wonderful homoeopath to point out the obvious to me – that the frequent ear infections followed by extended periods of deafness I’ve suffered throughout my life always coincided with times when things were going on that I literally didn’t want to hear. It was that simple!

Sometimes a minor illness is a sign that you need to stop doing whatever it is you’re doing and take a break. Ignore your body’s message at your peril! If you do, it will fell you in a way that will leave you no choice but to take note.

Well, I think the same thing’s happening to me on a techy level … and I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that I’ve been foolish to keep fighting it but instead should listen.

First there was my hideous case of Trojanitis. Now there’s all this other stupid techy nonsense – once again impacting on my ability to email and blog. We all know it can be hard to keep a balance on our addiction. (See Minx and Skint for current versions of this debate.)

Sometimes the problems could be a test of our resolve. Sharon, for example, refused to allow the technology to dictate to her and has taken matters into her own hands with her gorgeous new blog. On the other hand, maybe we sometimes need to learn that walking away is not a sign of defeat, but is actually very empowering. Marie, for example, deciding she needs to move away from a negative and destructive situation …

So this, in a nutshell, is what I’m thinking: that the techy irritations are life’s way of telling me I need to get back to my current book. It’s been weeks since I wrote anything new and I realised at the writers’ group on Saturday that I’ve become too distanced from it. And when I don’t write, I get twitchy and feel … just … not right.

So yesterday, pooter was duly shut down. Rug, suntan oil and other comforts came out and I took to the great outdoors and read story-so-far. And you know what? I like it. I want to work on it. I will work on it.

You hear that, life? I am listening. Now just sort the bloody techy stuff, will ya?

Deep in the ether, something stirred ...

Now what's going on??? Problems, problems, problems ...

1) Someone somewhere has decided I'm sending out spam and is blocking my emails - though not all of them ...

2) I can't see my latest posts on my own blog! The last one is the meme thingy. Where's me bleeding conkers??? I presume you can see the post as you're commenting, but I can only access it via my dashboard ...

3) Ditto re comments. According to what's on my screen, no one's commented at all. But you have! Again I can only see them via following email links or via dashboard.

Now this is all very silly! I'm not going to spend all this time/energy chucking things out into the ether if they just disappear off. Could someone let me know what you're seeing your end?

I mean, I don't mind the stupid spacing I get on my links (though sometimes it sorts itself for a while - just to wind me up) but losing whole posts - nah, I'm not having that ...

She stoops for conkers

Have you heard about the horse chestnuts?

We’re losing them. Fast. Three years of drought have left their resistance weakened and they’re being attacked by a double whammy of pest and disease.

Look around where you are. Here in the metropolis I’ve yet to see a horse chestnut whose leaves are not at best mottled and dry and at worst shrivelled and brown. The tress are so weakened by the onslaught that they may present a danger and as so many are in parks and residential areas, they may have to be chopped down. Just at the point our cities are most in need of their lungs …

Think about it. Those vibrant green Spring leaves followed by the magnificent pink and white flower candles; the massive trunks and spreading branches providing shade from the hottest sun or the heaviest downpour; and, most of all of course … the conkers.

Generation after generation of children, every September, stamping on those spiky hulls to reveal their shiny contents; collecting, sorting, comparing, challenging … never again. Conservative estimates reckon 40% of these mighty trees are already affected. It’s spreading fast, with experts warning this will be a worse catastrophe than Dutch Elm Disease,

So is there any hope? Well, yes and no. In Holland they’ve come up with a homoeopathic spray that – against all expectations – they say is successfully dealing with both the disease and the pest. So – are we pulling out all the stops to get it here ASAP? Are we hell …

‘We’re very sceptical about a miracle cure,’ is what we’re hearing here. ‘What we really need is a census.’

Oh right. Sure, that’ll sort it. Let’s spend a few million quid and waste vital time – not in tackling the problem, but in – er – counting the trees!

Meanwhile, First Born is collecting conkers to thread on a necklace. He says he’ll keep it forever and show it to his kids, who will probably never get to collect one fresh from the tree.

Some of my best conker memories

• The bruised knuckles we all sported every September throughout my childhood.
• My brother’s attempts to discover the perfect conker-strengthening recipe: pickling in vinegar, massaging with oil, gentle roasting in a slow oven …
• The endless debates about the ideal length of string, the best technique for swinging, whether a glancing blow can be more effective than a full-on shot …
• The horror when a much-loved veteran conker finally shatters.
• The joy when a cracked and manky conker refuses to die.
• The carrier bags filled to the brim every year and kept in a corner until the contents lose their shine and you finally give in and chuck them away months later.
• The annual conker competition where I used to work. I particularly remember the time a pretentious bruiser named Eugene Hieronymus Maximillian III was smashed to oblivion by an unprepossessing conker called Fluffy – thereby proving that looks ain’t everything.
• That September day 10 years ago when C died (5 years to the day after my mum). I walked to a lake and chose a single conker from the hundreds carpeting the ground. I took it home, carved his initials and the date on it and put it in a Special Place. It’s still there …

So farewell then, mighty horse chestnut. We may never stoop to conker again …

The meme thingy

Crime fic reader has pinged (or zapped … or tagged … or something) me …. And cos I trust her and I love her blog, I’m going for it. Even though I have no idea what a meme is … Maybe it’s as in, ‘Me! Me! This is all about Me!

Anyway, the idea is I answer these questions about books. Only you no doubt already know that. I had been feeling really flattered to be involved until I read the following on Roger’s Plog:
'I think this meme is near the end of its life and almost everyone I know has already done it!'
At which point I went into paranoia overdrive wondering why I’d been the last to be asked … (It’s ok – I jest.)

So ...

One book that changed your life.

This is the point you’re all going to feel you were right not to have included me earlier, but if I’m going to be honest, there’s only one possible answer to this one. So, at the risk of being derided for shameless self-publicising, it’s got to be my own first book, Nirvana Bites.

Allow me to justify the choice:

• I never set out or intended to write a book and certainly didn’t know I was capable of it. Even if it hadn’t been published, creating something from nothing has to be a life-changing event, doesn’t it?
• And then – by an almost magical series of events – the thing gets published!
• Having been written in longhand and typed up in chunks on borrowed laptops, the advance enabled me to buy my own pooter.
• The advance, spread over 4 years, may not have been enough to radically change our living situation, but it certainly made life a little easier during that time.
• I still find it very hard to believe that I wrote a book (even though I’ve written 3 more since) and that I’m a gen-u-ine published author.

So … forgive me? How could a book be more life-changing than that?

One book that you have read more than once.

This has to be The Bridge of Beyond by Simone Schwarz-Bart, set in Guadeloupe. There’s something about that book that works beyond the words on the page. The first time I read it, I was not in a good space. The book uplifted me in the most amazing way. After that, I read it a second time – once again when I was in a painful phase of life. This time, as I read it, I was aware that terrible things happen within the story. Yet in spite of the brutality of some of the passages and events, I was once again uplifted and strengthened by the end.

I’ve probably read it at least four times (always when I’ve felt in need of healing) and it works the same spell each time. Not only that, but I’ve even loaned it to other people and with only one exception, each has said they felt similarly moved.

What a powerful thing is a book!

One book you would want on a desert island.

Now I can hear you all gasp in amazement. My answer (if it could only be one book) would have to be the Bible.

• It’s BIG.
• It’s got some great characters and wonderful stories.
• You can dip in and out of it or read it cover to cover.
• You can skip the boring bits (assuming you don’t feel it’s ALL boring) without losing the thread.
• It operates on many different levels.
• You could while away many moons searching for codes.
• You wouldn’t ruin the plot if you tore out the pages about measurements and stuff to light the campfire.

One book that made you cry.

Philip Pullman’s The Amber Spyglass – the last in the His Dark Materials trilogy – the ending is devastating. In this 3rd book, he moves from the apocalyptic/universal to the deeply intimate/personal and is an absolute master of both. An author who is a committed atheist yet writes in the most spiritual way possible.

Also just about anything by Primo Levi.

One book that made you laugh.

I love people like Laurence Shames and Christopher Brookmyre, whose humour is silly and completely over the top, but who also often make serious points.

One book you wish had been written.

‘How to house, feed and clothe your family using old newspapers and grass cuttings.’

One book you wish had never been written.

I’m not going to name it, cos I don’t like putting out negative stuff, but there’s a well-known comedienne I really like who had a novel published at the same time as Trading Tatiana came out.

I’ve always had loads of respect and admiration for her. She lives locally and I’ve seen her occasionally in the park and desperately wanted to talk to her but never dared (even though I know people who have approached her and said she’s really lovely and easy going). Anyway, I got hold of her book. I was so looking forward to reading it and also thought that it would give me a reason to go up to her next time I saw her. (Though I probably still wouldn’t have had the guts …)

Anyway, talk about disappointed! The characters were paper-thin; the relationship between them simply didn’t work; the plot was unbelievable; and … it wasn’t funny. I felt so deflated – I’d wanted so much to like it. The awful truth is that I really don’t think it would have stood a chance of being published if the author wasn’t already an established ‘name’.

One book you are currently reading.

I’ve finally got round to reading Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City. I’ve been meaning to for ages …

One book you have been meaning to read.

Oh me oh my … the world is FULL of books I mean to read. Every short list … every long list … all the ones that never reach a list …

I’m supposed to tag 5 people now but I don’t dare do it for fear that the replies will come back in the shape of, ‘Oh that! I did that years ago, darling. Did you only just receive it now???’

A shout for Shazza

Please take a moment to send some positive vibes to Sharon, who is suffering from some hideous IT mischief that is preventing her from blogging. I know she's currently searching for a way round the problems so she can rejoin the party.

If you're reading this, babe, good luck! We're all still here waiting for you and will be for as long as it takes ...

Back ... with a vengeance.

Hey there. Remember me? I’m back on the scene following a blast of a summer – albeit a soggy one.

We started off camping here on the banks of the River Teign. Then we hit Cornwall as we had a time limit for a Very Crucial Rendezvous (more later) and stayed in a hideous commercial site here. As soon as we could, we moved further west and pitched in a very rough field in Marazion. Just two portaloos, a tap, a couple of other tents – and us.

That was when the monsoons hit, at which point the children became totally feral like those kids you hear about who have been raised by wolves. By a miracle we survived with nothing worse than a couple of nasty cases of suspected trenchfoot ...

After a week, we (and the rain) moved here on the edge of Exmoor, before inching our way home via a few nights in a farmer’s field in Owermoigne in Dorset.

At first glance you might think we look healthy and tanned, but closer examination reveals the truth. It’s wind burn. We look weather beaten – like North Sea fishermen - with a distant focus in our eyes from cloud watching.

So what was the ultimate high point? Was it seeing the ebb and flow of the River Teign as the tide transformed the landscape from raging river to muddy swamp twice a day? Or how about watching a big fat full moon rising over the hills at Crantock? Or the kids surfing at Fistral Bay with the big guys? Could it have been star gazing at Marazion round a campfire with St Michael’s Mount floating out to sea like a fairy castle in the air? What about seal spotting at Lizard Point? Or maybe being blasted by a steaming power shower in Kentisbury after swimming round in mud for a week with only an outdoor cold tap for washing … And then there was gathering armfuls of peacock feathers and organic fruit and veg on the farm in Dorset … Coming home and making jam and crumble …

But you know already, don’t you? Undoubtedly the greatest high of all was meeting the Mighty Minxster, sweet soul sister, and spending six hours with her on Crantock Beach. G and I watched her until she disappeared over the dunes at the end of this too-little slice of Real Life and my head was full of, ‘But I never asked her about …’ and ‘Oh, I wanted to know more about …’ and ‘We never touched on …’

So, the final verdict: a damp but wonderful summer full of happy memories with a Red Hot Chilli Peppers soundtrack. If holidays are all about doing different things to the rest of the year, we scored full points. I did a brief blog surf from a launderette in Penzance where we went to dry out, and wrote nothing more creative than a shopping list. The days – and nights – were spent velcroed to the children – and I wouldn’t change that for the world.

Only now they’re at school, First Born in secondary with 1399 other kids and Little Guy in Year 4. And I’m back at the laptop.

And so we move onto the next stage of This Life. Thanks for hanging in there while I was away. Expect more. Lots more …

Funny thing, time ...

Never enough of it. No time for posting or checking out all I missed during trojanism.

See you all late August.

Have a great summer. Stay safe and well and happy.

It's meeeeeeeee!

This is me – limping back on stage left – battered, bruised and bloody, but ultimately triumphant!

So who was it I’ve been locked in combat with this last couple of weeks? A Trojan horse name of Haxdoor, that’s who. And how did I get it? Nothing obvious – I thought I was already taking so many precautions, but these things are bloody clever … and then once they’re in, they hide, mutate, disguise, block and generally do all they can to evade detection and repair.

I’ve spent endless precious hours (8+ a day wasn’t unusual) downloading different anti-virus, anti-trojan and anti-spyware software (they’re all different!) and running scans.

Warning
Of the dozen or so I ran, only AVG and Panda detected the Trojan, though they were unable to heal or move it.

The others all congratulated me on having a clean pooter! Meanwhile, the scumbag who got me was collecting all my passwords and logon info …

The lessons
• I’ll now delete any emails from anyone I don’t know. That may sound obvious, but I was concerned I might inadvertently delete a genuine attempt to contact me – which was the whole point of having a website and blog …
• I’ll run regular scans with several different systems. Time consuming but the price has to be paid …
• I’ll never again assume the playground is benign and safe. I know it never was, but …
In many ways that loss of innocence is the highest price of all …
Naivete, thy name is Debi …

The heartfelt gratitude bit
I could never have won this battle alone.
So massive thanks to:
• The mighty Ab for email links, support and encouragement
• Big Mac for phone support and suggestions
• Minx for daring to stay in touch by email and others of the bloggerati who posted positive vibes
• The AVG forum – especially their advice on how to clean an infected computer. Try it out. You might think you’re safe, but I bet you’ll be in for a shock! Am I scaring you? Sorry, but if it makes you follow the steps they advise, it will be worth it.
• SWI forum. This was the biggie. These guys are simply the best. If you ever have a problem, this is the first place to go. Their instructions are clear enough for even the dumbest non-techy (that’s me, folks) to follow. And the specific replies and hand-holding are the ultimate weapon. (Just be sure to read and act on their guidelines before posting.)

If there are cowardly Scum Geeks lurking in the ether, there are an equal number of Good People working tirelessly to stay one step ahead, designing new weapons all the time and, if they don’t work, taking the scum geeks on in one-to-one combat. These people are all volunteers! They give their time, energy and expertise freely and anonymously because they believe in keeping this space safe for us to work and play in.

I/we owe them a huge debt of gratitude! May the goodness these guys put out into the world come back to them a thousand-fold! And may the Scum Geeks likewise reap an appropriate reward for their actions …

So what Real Life have you missed?
• Well, there was First Born’s last days at his primary school (achey breaky heart stuff)
• A weekend on a campsite in Kent (colourful stories about aggressive fellow-campers)
• And then there was my uncle’s 95th birthday party (my 91 yr old dad heckled the speeches)

These and no doubt more would all have been separate posts. But as I said to FB, you can’t go back in this life, only forward, and I’ve already spent too much time glued to pooter.

Sorry I haven’t been able to check all your blogs. I’ve missed you all and now we’ll be going away soon, so time is still very restricted.

But at least Poots and I have had our loving relationship restored …

Normal service may - or may not - be resumed ...

Sorry, folks, but I have a b-i-g problem.

My computer's been attacked by a Trojan horse (no links as I'm dodging popups just to post). I dealt with the generic 2 version last week but now it's mutated into generic 3 and my anti-virus has spotted it but can't heal or move it. I've done the disabling system restore, run 4 different kinds of system checks, downloaded umpteen different anti-viral thingys and spent 4.5 hrs on this so far today. And still the scumbag's in there.

I'm very freaked I'm afraid. (Afraid being the appropriate word.) It's like finding this wonderful new playground with all these new mates and then having it snatched away. It also feels like a real violation - like being attacked in your own home. I'm sorry - I know this sounds melodramatic and that there are far worse things happening in the world but as Bob Marley said, 'Who feels it knows it ...'

Meanwhile, I shouldn't really be online at all. The best secnario seems to be that I have to wipe my computer clean and start all over again. I'm not a techy and I'm utterly overwhelmed. Don't think I can do this alone but can't afford to pay - especially as the scumbag is probably draining my credit card to the max as I type.

I'm really sorry - won't be able to post again 'til this is sorted somehow. Also have problems answering emails and won't be able to check out all your blogs.

This shit has snapped my lifeline ...

Shazza rocks!

I've met Sharon J. And yes, she certainly does rock ... Talk about one cool sister ...

So now that's two 5 star new blogmates who have crossed from virtuality to reality. First there was the wonderful Maxine, now Sharon ... Next stop, Minx?

What an amazing unanticipated bonus on the day MSN Spaces published their Blogging Britain report, showing that 1 in 4 internet users in Britain is doing what you're doing right now ... (though not on this blog!)

MSN hosts 3,000,000 British registered blogs, which in itself represents a mere 25% of total UK blog traffic. (By the way, I didn't see this in the Daily Mail which, you probably won't be surprised to hear, is not my usual paper. Just a quickie to link while I try to deal with yet another Trojan bleeding Horse ...)

Anyway, back to the amazing Sharon. We met in a pub in Greenwich. My boys were really taken with Lise, Sharon's daughter. Which is just as well as it left me and the mightily-cool Sharon to talk ... and talk ... and talk ...

I think given the opportunity, we'd be amazed at the number of things we agree on, but by far the most emphatic is that we hadn't had nearly enough time, having barely scratched the surface ...

Which means that we'll definitely have to meet up again. And again ... And then again ...

Right. We're off to Sandwich in Kent for the weekend to road test the camping equipment prior to the big trek west in August. Storms forecast ... Ho hum ...

Check 'em out ...

It's a Crime has a fun competition to find the worst first line. Come on, guys. Surely between us all we can dredge up some truly crap writing ...

Then go over to the distinctly non-crap John Baker blog and check out this Bush joke ...

For a change of pace, I was wondering what people thought about this post on Susan Hill's blog. I'm obviously one of her 'whingers and moaners' but don't want to say more for fear of being further dismissed ...

Petrona has given us a sample of a day in the life of Maxine that I can really relate to. Except I never found time to so much as glance at the Super Sudoku this weekend. We so need a summer break to get over the build up to ... the summer break ...

Thanks to Roger for this link to the catalogues of all UK libraries. It not only tells you what books are stocked but also how many are out on loan etc. I foresee many more hours of displacement activity just at the point my time is shrinking to infinitesimal proportions. Yeah. Thanks, Rog ...

Sharon and Bill are both grappling with how to deal with the pain of rejection.

Last but not least, I've just found The Outfit - a Chicago-based collective of crime writers with some famous names. Sara Paretsky anyone? Thanks to Sarah Weinman for this link.

Going cheap ...

I just Googled my name (you already know my infinite capacity for displacement activity). And there in the top right hand corner is one of those ads.

It reads Buy Debi Alper with free delivery over £20 at Tesco.

Talk about a bargain ...

Green(er) books?

Remember that debate about e-books and environmental concerns?

With few exceptions, we all expressed our love for Real Life books, but also shared a concern for the environmental consequences of the conventional publishing industry.

Here's an interesting article from the New York Times found on Sarah Weinman's blog about producing 'greener' books.

On the subject of reviews.

My first ever post was a response to a hideous review of Trading Tatiana.

It all came back to me today when reading this post on Murderati. It seems I'm not alone in finding negative reviews devastating. (Though the one I referred to is Queen Negative of Negativia where being positive - or just a bit nice - is a criminal offence.)

Fortunately, there are some wonderful reviewers out there (here) who take their responsibilities seriously, do proper research before drawing conclusions and don't use the review as a vehicle to show how clever they are - by definition SO much cleverer than the author of the book they've just slated ...

Crimeficreader, Maxine et al are two examples ... And I'm not just saying that cos they like my writing!

Boo hoo Yahoo?

The NUJ are advising members to boycott Yahoo as result of them passing info to the Chinese authorities that has resulted in the arrest of journalists and bloggers.

It's outrageous that the blogosphere should be abused in this way. Hands off! This medium belongs to us!

Thanks to Island Monkey for flagging this up.

Age Rage

Right. So do you remember the last post I did about dad? Well since then, he's come on by leaps and bounds - almost literally.

He's an amazing and remarkable man. It's impossible to describe how much I love and admire him. After the major heart attack in Feb and all the ensuing trauma, he's now back to cooking and shopping etc for himself and has even returned to volunteering at the hospital. He's 91, don't forget!

But let's get real and see the whole picture. His short term memory is completely shot and though he deals with this with wonderful humour, we need to take account of the potential problems it could cause. So we've arranged for a carer to pop in twice a day, just to check he's ok and (most importantly) has taken his medication.

Each time I spoke to anyone at the agency or at social services, I told them that without doubt dad, feeling fine, would phone at some point and attempt to cancel the carers' visits. We all (the professionals,the family and of course dad himself) agreed that in the event that he did so, no decisions would be made without contacting me. I knew that dad would have forgotten our agreement but once reminded would be fine with it.

So what happened this week? You guessed it. He phoned. They cancelled. Just like that. The nightmare scenario that I had predicted and done everything I could to prevent, had come to pass.

OK. Many frustrating calls later, Social Services are following it up and trying to put a new package in place. They're pissed off with the agency too, though that doesn't help us of course. The trouble is with all the contracting out that's done and all the under-resourcing. I know that, so it means I don't even get to vent my fury on anyone as I know they're also struggling their end.

I'm just hoping this can be sorted and put in place before we head off in August, when neither myself nor my brother will be around to plug any gaps.

Meanwhile, I had to deal with missing bank and credit card statements, dad having gone inadvertantly overdrawn, triplicated appointments (!), benefit claims etc etc etc ...

And the bloody Council Tax lot had sent 3 contradictory letters. When I phoned it turns out they had him down as having moved out! (I have no idea where they got that idea from.)

I tell you, I'm articulate and efficient, but I was having serious difficulties working through all the complex ramifications of the above. Poor dad just kept saying, 'I have no idea what's going on,' and I had to tell him I felt the same.
What must it be like for elderly people who don't have loving family or friends?

Is this normal?

I'm feeling all wobbly and emotional, having delivered firstborn to his new secondary school for a day of inductions and taster lessons.
It's a huge school - 1200 kids - and he's only little. Well, not physically (he's only an inch shorter than I am and has bigger feet!) but you know what I mean.
It's all new and unfamiliar and there's new rules and new culture and new ways of being and new kids and new teachers and new everything and new and new and new ...
(Getting the picture of what I mean by 'wobbly and emotional' yet...?)

I mean I've done it, right? I took him and he's there now and I've abandoned him (!) and I've bigged him up and I've bigged up the school and I've done all I know how and now I have to back off and let him get on with it.
And, you know what? He was s-o-o cool. Some kids looked nervous, a few looked surly and many looked blank. But firstborn was sitting bolt upright with his huge eyes taking in everything and an eager expression on his face, wearing a t-shirt with 'Bring it on' written on the front.

So he's fine.

What I want to know is, is it normal for me to be sitting here twitching and feeling nauseous and unable to concentrate on anything except the tears pricking behind my eyelids?

Two new reviews blast their way into the blogosphere

Maxine and Crimeficreader have both written really thoughtful reviews of Nirvana Bites on their blogs.
Amazing, isn't it? Without the blogging they would never have heard of me, let alone read my books. Now they've read, enjoyed (so they assure me, though I feel awful about inducing Cfr's nightmare!) and we all move on together.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. The reviews are icing on the cake. Making these connections and mutually supporting each other are the real McCoy.
(Pssst - anyone know who McCoy is? Assuming he's not the crisp man or the one in Star Trek ...)