I’ve always been intrigued by Jack the Ripper. The murders as such do not interest me – I hate blood and gore. It’s the mystery that surrounds them and a keen interest in Victorian history, especially the East End of London, that draws me in.
I have many books on the subject, including, The Jack the Ripper Suspects by Stan Russo which cites 70 suspects – a must for all ripperologists, apparently. I bought it a few years back and it was fairly expensive then but now it sells on Amazon for £42.70 – ooh, er, I guess that makes me a ripperologist then!
You may be wondereing why I’m on about evil Jack today. Well I went on a Ripper Tour last Wednesday and it was absolutely fab. The combination of looking around the East End, a fantastic tour guide: Philip Hutchinson who co-wrote The London of Jack the Ripper (another great book) and actually seeing where the murders took place made for a brilliant evening.
You know, it’s quite strange – my novel isn’t a murder at all, and yet I’ve managed to thread in a couple of references to Jack the Ripper. And I've got a short story whizzing around my head, spurred by the evening, that I really must get down! Well, they say write about what you know, don’t they?
I was going to pop on my photographs, but they are very dark and only this one of The Ten Bells Pub came out reasonably well. It's said that in the early hours of November 9th 1888, Mary Kelly, Jack's final victim, left this pub to meet her demise. It's said too that Jack the Ripper haunts here.
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