In the gumtree classifieds (a Craigslist for Brits), I found it, my dream job: A writer and editor and receptionist to tourists at the Sherlock Holmes Museum. I would write articles for the cleverly titled, "Baker Street Times" (where the museum is located, as well as Holmes' supposed home). My name is all over this job. It must be mine.
This would involve, according to the ad, some creative writing skills, effective communication skills to greet international visitors, and an enthusiasm for the Victorian era.
Before I could email the museum, I did some research and thoroughly read up on Victorian slang, popular art such as fairy paintings done by absinthe and opium-heads, Victorians and the paranormal, Victorians and the fear of science and technology (i.e. Frankenstein),Dickens, etc. etc. I am now the Victorian expert.
The Fairy's Funeral, John Anster Fitzgerald
They asked for example articles and I provided ample--one about a prostitute (they called them "dollywops")washed ashore the River Thames, one about a skeptical doctor who died during a seance, and one about a theif known for targeting art dealers' carriages.
Still waiting to hear back from them...
Oh yeah, and Kenneth Lay is still dead. Surprisingly not roaming the mean streets of Aspen trolling for young maidens whose blood he can suck with the assistance of enormous canine teeth.
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