…. and it’s over
I don’t want to be part of the search for another image of Carl Webb …
and couldn’t much care about his family or background.
I’m out.
I don’t want to read about Gordon Cramer’s doomed attempts to justify his claims of micro-writing and bragging about his visitor numbers.
I’m out.
I don’t want to fight against the ever decreasing numbers who come by here.
I’m out.
Though what’s left in the accumulated posts might be helpful to those who remain inquisitive, and all the best to them.
And for those who have contributed, Clive, Dude and Byron in particular, even you Sanders you incorrigible old bastard, thanks.
I’m out.
For now.
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The Somerton Man 
Can’t disagree with you Pete. I find the frantic search for a grave for Doff Webb particularly distasteful and of little value. I do however hope that you continue to contribute in some form.
Maybe I’ll go back to trolling Dome, the bloke’s a Pom after all and getting their whiskers elevated is a national sport down here.
Sounds like a plan. For the record what’s your gut feeling re Carls trip to Adelaide?
I’ve got two. If the Freeman Rubaiyat was his, he wanted to see Harkness. If the Rubaiyat was hers he was scouting out Prosper.
And thanks for the email, decided to have a shot at it using a very old relative …
Sorry Pete one last question I sounded out a hypothesis just for the hell of it about a possible romantic relationship between PT and Carl. This was based on firstly the initial suspicions that SM may have been a gay man by SAPOL then this fed into the supposed loveless marriage between PT and Jess the strange details of Webbs life including his depression and failed marriage. The potential reason for suicide etc. The more I wrote the more I thought it just may have the slightest possibility of being plausible. Do you think there’s anything in that at all?
The suspicion Webb was gay was based primarily on the pattern on his dressing gown(figure that out) and the condition of his calves which some thought were the result of him wearing high heels ..
Sorry to hear it – didn’t always agree with you (largely because IMO the fiction writer in you twists everything into a good story), but was certainly entertained, and you certainly brought a very different perspective to things (I still haven’t bought or read the Bookmaker of Kabul, but it is somewhere in my list of things to read – unfortunately I read very little lately).
You bring a lot of personality to the debate – and it has at times been a good laugh watching your banter with Sanders – although sometimes it was hard to follow given his side of the conversation was often on another site.
Here’s hoping it’s not permanent.
Thanks for the compliments, Lurker, appreciated … right now I’m watching Dome pick apart Keane’s life, wondering if Webb’s disappearance might be the result of some misdeed and he assumed Keane’s identity.
You might have fanciful or eccentric ideas at times – but you’re always interesting. That’s a great asset, I’d say.
If I knew where you lived, Renata, I’d send roses.
I kind of wish it was over but, unfortunately, it’s not.
It’s the same kind of thing with everything somehow leading to nothing.
There are some twists and turns. (Yes. There are.)
You have been there all the way through. Don’t give up now.
Maybe you need some roses?
: )
Well, I have to admit that it would be helpful to be able to combine Jessica’s timeline with that of Webb… then add Prosper. We know there was a confluence somewhere along the track. Whaddya reckon?
You need a rose, as misca observes. There you are aloft a wave, stationary like Venus on a shell, but alone in the universe without an adoring crowd to throw you off-balance. But most writers, like poets, composers of music, and other dreamers, are introverted fellows who’re generally not the greatest crowd pleasers in today’s social media circles. So keep putting pen to paper and find your joy in a fusion of fact and fiction. And, pray tell me, are there any or many fiction-free facts in life?
Embellishments of fact, Renata, are the drugs fiction needs, that and the ability to use fancy words and write long sentences.
I spoke too loosely above. Facts such as gravity, birth and death, and sun rises do exist (if we limit ourselves to this terrestrial realm and ignore the post-truthers), but I meant that one cannot create a *narrative* without elements of opinion and fancy. And certainly not a gripping narrative about a dead fellow with impeccable sartorial taste and small Persian in his smaller pocket. That’s the task at hand for you, as your pestering peers are saying. (Oh, the lure of big words is not universal, thank goodness, despite my own predilections.) Apologies for being pedantic, in case I am.
I realise that this is obvious but, if Jessie’s phone number had not been written on the back of the Rubaiyat, Jessie and Alf would have remained in the shadows. I wonder, when Alf departed, if Jessie continued to have drinks at the Clifton Gardens Hotel and, give copies of the Rubaiyat to other individuals.
Boxall thought the same, if you read the Littlemore notes, that she may have been in the habit of presenting gifts to those leaving for distant parts.
Was the petite woman in the habit of highlighting verses from the ROK with
subtexts that only the recipients could interpret? What was that repentance and regret over repentance with the arrival of spring all about? Also does anyone remember whether, when viewing CW’s head and shoulders, she knew already that Boxall was alive? Might she have imagined that it was AB?
That’s the perception the police had and I’m certain that’s a question they asked her. But by then she had stopped talking.