People like Timothy Knatchbull are always good enough to see beyond the bad days and recognise the innate goodness in so many people here [in Ireland]. Something that has always been here but was often overlooked. Alan Boyd 17 January 2012

The Troubles

Unfortunately I was touched by the Troubles from a very early age. I came across Timothy Knatchbull’s book by chance and am in awe of how he managed to continue with his life. He is an inspiration to us all. Nadine Williamson 3 January 2012

Forgive and let go

In the past I haven’t found it easy to forgive and let go. In 2009 I saw Timothy Knatchbull’s TV interview in which he spoke of forgiveness and it made me feel humbled. His is a truly remarkable story and I feel a better person for reading his book. Jane McDermott

6 October 2011

Summer reading

Timothy Knatchbull’s book was the highlight of my summer reading. Mary Carney

21 August 2011

How easily we accepted the madness

In August 1979 I was a student working near Cliffoney, Co Sligo. Reading Tim Knatchbull’s book has made me realise how easily we all, myself included, accepted the madness that was going on all around us at that time. Steve Carty 8 August 2011

Pursuit of the truth

I congratulate Tim Knatchbull on writing such a wonderful, inspirational book. He is a talented writer who handled this horrific tragedy with such thoughtful honesty. I admire his pursuit of the truth no matter where it took him. Bernadette Lynch 2 August 2011

Quite extraordinary

Timothy Knatchbull’s ability to find forgiveness and compassion was, and remains, something quite extraordinary, from which we could all learn. Dr Sophia Hillan, author of

‘Mary, Lou and Cass: Jane Austen’s nieces in Ireland’ 19 July 2011

An author’s integrity

I was deeply moved and very impressed with Timothy Knatchbull’s book. I missed his company when I’d finished it, as if I’d made a valued new friend whom I had to part from – a sure sign of an author’s integrity. Ann Henning Jocelyn 23 May 2011

Immense courage

From a Clear Blue Sky is beautifully written. Only immense courage could support such openess and compassion. Arnold Hiatt 15 May 2011

Let spirits rest

I admire Timothy Knatchbull’s courage … the life he has built around him… and [having] reached closure to let spirits rest. Nargis Jamal 9 May 2011

The brutality and thoughtlessness of conflict

The clarity of thought and its portrayal is remarkable. The captivation of thoughts and memories as a young boy is exceptionally and emotionally depicted so that the reader enters Tim Knatchbull’s innermost personal moments. His book is an open message to others who may have suffered because of the brutality and thoughtlessness of war and conflict to see what they have lost or are missing. Tim’s style is simple and heart-driven with no malice or bias. His phraseology, in its context, is flawless and I find his expressions to be spontaneous and heart-wrenching at the same time. Ros Thomas 23 March 2011

Non-judgemental

What really sets this book apart from other human journeys and tragedies is Timothy Knatchbull’s own personality and attitude to life… The non-judgemental tone, the integrity, the humour and above all the love and compassion with which it is written make it so important and life-affirming. Marita Crawley 16 March 2011

The audio book was beautifully read by Tim Knatchbull

When I was given this audio book for Christmas, and found there were 12 discs I thought this would take months to hear. I was wrong. I found it all so fascinating that in a fortnight I had completed it. I thought the book was beautifully read.

John Crammond 12 March 2011

Gripped by a stirring of deep feelings

From the very title to the last page I found myself gripped by a stirring of deep feelings. Once I started to read I found it very difficult to put down, but when it was time to continue I found myself troubled at the knowledge of how it would affect my innermost thoughts…The portrayal of the love and bravery of the Knatchbull family were so poignantly expressed.

Colonel RL Cowling 28 February 2011

A great resource for others

A great resource for others searching for some understanding. Jenni Thomas OBE

(Grief Support, Training & Facilitation) February 2011

Those moments in time

I lost my own daughter aged two in 1986. Timothy Knatchbull’s book about himself, his brother and family touched me deeply. I appreciated the detail, those moments in time.

Fenella Dunn 5 January 2011

Powerful writer

Timothy Knatchbull has dealt with all aspects of that dark time in as sensitive and as intelligent a manner as any other work I’ve read that deals with tragedy of this proportion. He is a powerful writer with an incisive understanding of the best in the human condition; and I found his book inspiring. Michael Goodspeed 13 January 2011

Total honesty

Knatchbull’s total honesty touched me deeply. Most of the time people do not have the capacity of detaching themselves from their emotions to analyse intelligently others’ reactions and anger. I was very moved. Artur Reis e Sousa 27 January 2011

A magnetism

I have just read Tim Knatchbull’s book for the third time. Each time I get something else from it. The book has a magnetism yet it is so sad. Betty Heath December 2010

An original book

An original book, it moved me very much and made me feel awake to the fragility of life, death and mourning. Jasmine Dunne 9 November 2010

Tremendously moved

I loved Timothy Knatchbull’s book, and read it non-stop on the plane. So much so that a flight attendant came to me three quarters of the way through the flight to ask what book was so absorbing me. I really couldn’t put the book down and I was tremendously moved by it.

Barbara Taylor Bradford 1 November 2010

Courageous at every level

A magnificent account – courageous at every level, frank, fair, moving (intensively so), altogether admirable. David Sutcliffe 18 October 2010

A story that has great potential to promote peace and true understanding

Tim Knatchbull’s story is not intended to be in any way political. And yet it is a story that has great potential to promote peace and true understanding between the British and Irish peoples. It is a story written by a man who has fought hard to come to peace with himself. We cannot give in life until we first make peace with ourselves. He says that if he were to be reborn and God asked him how he would like to come back, and there were no places available as an Englishman, he would be sorely tempted to come back as an Irishman. As far as I am concerned, he would be very welcome. Niall Lenihan 6 September 2010

An unpretentious account

A good, unpretentious account with no ‘splother’ as my father would have said.

Alan Bennett 19 August 2010

Courage and tenacity

This book and Knatchbull’s struggles are a lesson to all of us.

Lieutenant-General (Ret’d) RR Crabbe 17 August 2010

Enthralled

I do not know when I have been so moved, and entranced, and enthralled by any book.

Mary Strathmore 11 August 2010

Dispelling Victorian attitudes

Devastatingly frank and open… the Knatchbull family example could serve to help dispel some of the Victorian attitudes to coping with tragedy. Michael Billett OBE 26 July 2010

Eloquent account of a magical place

An eloquent account of coming to terms with the pain of loss, it is also a powerful evocation of Mullaghmore. Reading this book awoke many memories of that magical place. Philip Browne 4 June 2010

An extraordinary achievement

I enjoyed it – if that is anyway the right word – every page of it and thought it was an extraordinary achievement written with remarkable candour, sensitivity and generosity.
David French 8 May 2010

If I was on a desert island, I’d take it with me

I recently read From a Clear Blue Sky. What a book, in fact if I was on a desert island, I’d take it with me. It is easy to read, full of so many explanations of Ireland, the complications that lie there … it makes me feel very humble. Liz Edwards 23 April 2010

The chord of love between brothers will resonate with me for a very long time

I found From a Clear Blue Sky compelling and chastening and at times unbearably moving. The book does what it set out to do, nothing could be clearer than that and it has been done extraordinarily well. I sometimes had to stop for a moment to gulp back a sob. The chord of love between brothers will resonate with me for a very long time. Timothy was brave to go to the very end of the quest. And of course there’s Paul Maxwell and his father too. The grown-ups teach a lesson or two as well. Details supplied

A love story

I am the father of identical twin boys. My wife said, how can you read such a terrible story, and I was able to answer her, “It is a love story”. This brave and unflinchingly honest book touched me profoundly. Jeremy Wayne 19 March 2010

Careful recounting of the legal proceedings

…entrancing part of the book was the careful recounting of the legal proceedings against the attackers. It was a great moment to an American, enmeshed as we seem to be on our side of the Atlantic in trying to figure out how to deal with terrorist attacks without losing our democracy. With lapses in ancient jurisprudence to be sure, the UK seems to have done a saner job in that area than we have. I was interested every step of the way, in the apprehensions and subsequent court proceedings of the assassins. That it was described clinically, without rancor or bile, attested eloquently to the success of the project of healing.
Saul Diskin 2 March 2010

A cathartic voyage and a ripping yarn

I am not sure what Tim Knatchbull has produced. Neither novel nor memoir, nor self-help nor blog but a work which combines elements of all. It is like accompanying him on a therapeutic, cathartic voyage and a ripping (very sad) yarn at the same time.

Hannah Alexander 2 March 2010

The exotic experience of identical twins

The book is one of the few which delves into the healing necessary to be undergone by the surviving twin. It is also one of the few that does not either descend into the technical nor the revoltingly mawkish. The straight, declarative rendition of the events and the aftermath, describing Knatchbull’s journey toward health, becomes more powerful in its understatement. It invites the reader into the exotic experience of identical twins. Saul Diskin 2 March 2010

The book exudes such compassionate humanity

I think the book is the best account of grief I have ever read and because Timothy so eloquently names and speaks of feeling and processes that are usually hidden from the conversations of everyday life, I found it enormously comforting. The book exudes such compassionate humanity too, due I think to Timothy’s evocation of political, social and economic drivers along with the deeply personal. Such a painful journey but ending with hope and resolution. Inspirational. Pamela Leadbetter 15 November 2009

Gobsmackingly intelligent

A gobsmackingly intelligent book with, among many deeply personal insights, some highly interesting analysis of the Irish psyche. Peter Mantle 26 October 2009

A very human account of a terrible event

I know how … difficult some of the research and the writing must have been. But Timothy Knatchbull has produced a very human account of a terrible event and his compassion and his feeling for his twin come through very clearly. John de Chastelain 22 October 2009

Intolerable suffering

I was struck by the subtlety of the words, the intelligence and lack of ego, the sense that Timothy Knatchbull could only have arrived at such alchemy from an intolerable suffering, the braveness of his engagement with it. I met him years ago at a Lone Twin Network meeting. I congratulate him so much for the book and all he is doing. Kate Behrens 21 October 2009

Journey back into the darkness that captured all my attention

The structure, pacing and presentation make the narrative not only compelling but impossible to put down. The depth and scope of the research is unbelievable. And the personal details of not only the writer and his family, but the details of friends, witnesses, investigators and other victims adds greatly to the richness and power of the narrative. Yet it is the journey back into the darkness that captured all my attention, empathy, sympathy and, most importantly, respect. Peter Van D Emerson, Harvard College, 31 August 2009

20% discount on Audio Book - enter code FROM-CLEA-RBLU-ESKY when ordering.

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Best book to read this year

Most compelling story – a MUST read. Such a brave and honest account of a family who was thrown into grief. Gill

Beautifully written

I have just finished reading this book and had to write. Timothy’s account of that dreadful day in August 1979, and the aftermath, had me gripped from the first page. It is beautifully written, very sad, but also very moving. I thought it was lovely that his siblings took such care of each other while their parents were recovering in Sligo Hospital, and that they have no feelings of bitterness about what happened. Tim’s final goodbye to Nick was so sad but also very hopeful. The photo of him with his children on the beach at Classiebawn in August 2004 shows a man finally at peace. A wonderful book.Louise Haugh

Excellent

I really enjoyed this book. Unfortunately a true story which at times is very sad but I found it really interesting and so well written. Lizzy

From a Clear Blue Sky offers a clear view of what is really important

I have just finished reading From a Clear Blue Sky by Timothy Knatchbull. I found myself unable to put it down, and when I did put it down the thought of it still rattled around my brain.

In the book Timothy talks about his long journey, from identical twin hood, through trauma and on through recovery not only from the trauma itself but the devastating loss of what to him, was a part of him, his brother.

It is beautifully written and offers clear fact finding but also shares with the reader some of the internal struggles and miseries. I think that this might make it sound sad and mawkish but it is anything but. It offers a clear view of what is really important. Relationships with the people that surround one and the book ultimately leaves one with the feeling of optimism not only that a happy life can still be achieved, but as is often the case for me, a wonder at the human psyche to recover.

I think it was particularly poignant to me because it neatly displayed how, when we consider and begin to understand our past and how events form us personally that we are set free to make progress. I am clear that it is only in having some understanding of our past that we are free to say goodbye to some of the sadder aspects of our formation; and these are not necessarily dramatic events, and then gain clarity that allows us to be free, to let go and move on peacefully with our lives. Angela Hackett

Enlightening

Uplifting, tragic, heart warming and heart wrenching. Wonderful book. No self pity, just a frank and open account…no human being should have to go through. What a wonderful family. Sarah

Well worth the read

A well written moving story written by an intelligent and generous person. You can learn from reading it. Anna

Simplicity, truth, anguish and love

I bought this indelible book just by chance and have been overwhelmed by its simplicity, truth, anguish and love. I have no association with Lord Mountbatten nor his family but the contents and the author’s journey after his tragic loss left me overwhelmed and tearfully joining him at every painful stage and event.

I just had to leave this comment as a mark of my appreciation to Timothy Knatchbull for his emotional courage in reliving the tragic event and its stark impact on his and his family’s lives. I cannot remember where I was on that fateful day in August 1979 but will never forget the numbness it left and the feeling of emptiness. An unimaginable sense of sorrow and also anger rippled from every quarter and it has been humbling to read of Timothy’s conciliatory words and comments relating to the perpetrators of this obscene crime. R Martinez

Recent Purchases

The book is a fascinating description of the events leading to the tragic fate of Lord Mountbatten at the hands of the IRA. Athough sad,it makes interesting and enlightening reading. Duncan

Book that explains everything

It is a very moving and brilliantly written book that explains everthing. As a child I spent some summer holidays in Mullaghmore and Bundoran and the descriptions of Donegal are spot on. I love Donegal because of those hoildays: the beaches, the cow pats, the hedgerows, the purple and red flowers and the donkeys. All the good things that helped Tim Knatchbull’s recovery. M Rochford

Tears to my eyes

I remember this happening but was not really old enough to realise the emotions brought about by this brutal action. Stirring truth about the mindset of the IRA and the emotions of sorrow, despair and anger felt by all rightminded people. A Howden

Peaceful feelings for the future

This wonderful, insightful book shows us how to live peacefully with those who seek to do us harm and to go forward with a rewarding life. It is a personal story that awakens in us the knowledge that we can forgive our enemies and in this way help peace to come to our world. Hopefully this book written by Tim Knatchbull, From a Clear Blue Sky, will soon be available to purchase from American bookstores. Mary Mel French, former American Chief of Protocol

A powerful account by a remarkable person

I must say that at times I found this story so distressing I had to put it down, and couldn’t read it straight through without days in between. The author describes a journey back to Ireland, primarily with the intention of being able to say goodbye to his brother, who had been taken from him suddenly and brutally. The political questions are secondary to the emotional journey of confronting pain and loss, but the author open-mindedly and generously considers the political backdrop to the events he describes and the developments of later years, rejoicing in the end of the Troubles, and accepting the resulting prominence of certain controversial political figures.

What is most striking about the book is the author’s ability to return to childhood, and evoke the tenderness of the child while writing as a man in middle life, who has lived courageously and successfully, but not without a large amount of suffering. The two personae – that of the child and that of the adult – seem to exist concurrently as strong presences in the book. This ability to evoke the emotions of childhood is a quality which even great stylists cannot always do convincingly. The book is at times deeply painful to read, but it is a tender symphony of love to a lost brother, and a compassionate account by a man with extraordinary insight into himself and outreaching love for other people. It is also, in its way, a celebration of life and joy as well. All in all, a tough read, but I strongly recommend it. Mrs MC Williams

A great and eye-opening read

I really enjoyed this book from start to finish. I was a teenager in Ireland when Mountbatten’s boat was bombed and I remember the incident but my memory lacks clarity. This book helped to fill the gaps and was a pleasure to read. It mixed the historical account of the events with the personal and painful journey of Timothy Knatchbull and his family and made the reader feel included in their life story. V Dowley

A moving insight

I remembered the bombing and was shocked and saddened at the time. The story of the events that took place and the journey taken by the whole family is gripping and inspirational at the same time. A great read of real history. Colin G Blake

Deeply moving

This is a beautifully written, deeply personal account of human tragedy. What impresses most is the author’s compassion and lack of bitterness throughout his search for answers. It is a text book study of grief- the grief of losing a twin, your other half. But it is also deeply interesting in terms of recent political and Royal history. CE Jones

A clear understanding

I only bought and read this book because of the moving interview I heard with the author on the radio, when I heard him speaking about the events of 1979 and the subsequent emotional and political fallout that followed, I felt compelled to read the full account. This is a story that all families can relate to and understand, its a story of love and honour bound with a full sense of history and patriotism. Knatchbull could easily have wallowed in self pity, but he doesn’t, instead he shows remarkable fortitude and strength in the intimate and caring style in which he has chosen to tell this most personal story. It’s a beautiful book, and the family at the core could be from almost any walk of life, at no point does the fact that Mountbatten, being the grandson of Queen Victoria make it difficult for the reader to identify with the family and character’s within. This is a history book, a story book, and a window looking into our structure and very being as a nation, its a book about ordinary people in an extraordinary situation. The book also gives us a remarkable insight to subjects that are usually misunderstood or misplaced, such as IRA activity and government policy and structure at the time of the so called “troubles” in Ireland. I was incredibly moved by some of the accounts within this book, it must have been so very difficult to have covered the more sensitive issues, but as I say, its not indulgent, just a thoroughly good read. K Thompson

A necessary book

This is an intelligent, brave and moving book which tells of the terrible event which shatters a family. Much more than an account of the violence committed on the day in question, the book charts the writer’s journey back to his childhood and the ways in which he eventually moves from grief to mourning for what he, his brother and his family have lost. The book is detailed in its research and incorporates Timothy Knatchbull’s journal entries as he comes, many years later, to revisit the places, people, and experiences of that time. Utterly compelling. Dr. B Jay

Totally gripping

This well written book is shatteringly honest and endlessly page-turning. It’s so very readable, yet so often not an easy read and at times I had the uncomfortable feeling of peering through an open window upon a family’s most private moments. However, it was impossible to avert my eyes and I must thank Timothy Knatchbull for opening them just that bit little wider. I found myself googling so many aspects of this book, in the quest for further knowledge and found how very little I really know of Ireland’s troubled history.

This book encompasses so much, so seamlessly. Mountbatten’s colourful life in the navy and within the Royal Family. A beautifully written portrait of our Queen, quite moving and very human, that should dispel any remaining myth of her stiffness once and for all. The raw pain of losing loved ones so violently – and yet the beauty of family and friendships, united in their grief. This is a book about a murderous day on a sunny August Bank Holiday. Yet, much more than this, it is a book about survival. R Abrahams

A compelling read. Thoroughly recommended

An extremely interesting and readable book, which affected me on many levels, raised many questions, answered quite a few too, and moved me to tears in places.

Having missed much of the immediate aftermath of the bomb due to his own severe injuries, the author goes back many years to Ireland to try and come to terms with the loss of his family members, and in particular with the devastating loss of his identical twin brother. After reading the book, I was able, for the first time, to imagine what it must be like to have an identical twin – and to lose one. I should think that other identical twins would find this book of particular interest.

Perhaps because the author seems to have written the book as much for his own benefit as for anyone else’s, it has a very intimate feel. The events are considered in chronological order, from the viewpoint of the author himself and many witnesses, helpers, medical staff, family members and local people. The heart-warmingly non-judgmental attitude of the author and his parents that comes across in the book encourages the reader to view the situation in a rational and understanding way and makes it accessible for readers across all divides. Understanding and an attempt at forgiveness are very much on the agenda here, in a scenario where hatred and incomprehension would perhaps, sadly, be the norm.

It was interesting to catch a glimpse of the conflicting emotions and the complex situation that the local Irish people had to deal with at the time and to see how much the experience affected them even all these years later. I loved the footnotes and became addicted to flipping forwards to see which people the author had spoken to again at a later date and to gain as much background information as I could.

The book really took me back to that period and made me wonder why Irish history was not part of the author’s or our school curriculum when, even at my school in West Yorkshire we were evacuated at least once a week in those days due to bomb scares? Was this not more immediate and important than learning about Queen Anne chairs? I was also dismayed to discover what a large percentage of Catholic and Protestant children in Ireland are still being taught in separate schools.

To sum up, I found the book well written, easy to read, informative, emotionally engaging and thought provoking. CB

Excellent read

Excellent narrative of this horrifying historical tragedy. Numerous photographs that help tell the story as well. Wonderful book. AE Valentine

A humbling book and one that should be read

A book which shares personal, intimate feelings about a truly appalling time in the author’s life. It’s his way of endeavouring to come to terms with the tragedy which devastated his family as well as others in the small fishing village and beyond. A warm-hearted, intelligently-written acccount. It was a privilege to be drawn into the way the author dealt with his sorrow, and an insight into a family which also suffered from the troubles. C Cymru

From Tragedy, Acceptance and Resolution

For some reason American publishers have not yet deigned to make From a Clear Blue Sky readily available in the US. That’s a shame, because Timothy Knatchbull’s story will find resonance among many who have endured great tragedy.

Timothy Knatchbull had it all. Born in 1964 as the youngest child of an aristocratic semi-royal and very wealthy Lord and Lady, he was raised in a household of rambunctious, loving brothers and sisters. His grandfather was an authentic national hero, Earl Mountbatten of Burma, a dynamic individual who adored his grandchildren and loved to entertain them on long family vacations at his Irish castle. Best of all, Timothy had a twin, Nicholas Knatchbull, slightly older and slightly stronger, who was his best friend. They could never envision being separated for even a moment.

On August 27, 1979, 14 year old Timothy, his brother, parents, grandfather, and grandmother went lobstering in the waters near their Irish summer home. The IRA, seeking to shock the British with an attack on their monarch’s close relatives, blasted the boat out of the water. Timothy’s grandfather and grandmother were killed, his parents were seriously wounded, and he himself was badly hurt, eventually losing an eye. Worst of all for him, his brother Nicholas was killed, along with their friend Paul Maxwell, an Irish boat boy.

This book must have been enormously painful to write, as Timothy unflinchingly traces the events of that horrible day and his and his family’s long recuperations. But it must also have been enormously comforting and cathartic, as Timothy writes lovingly of the hard work his family, doctors and nurses, therapists, and total strangers went to, to comfort and help him. Some of the most appealing parts of the book describe the kindnesses of Timothy’s royal relatives, including the Queen herself and the Prince of Wales, making it an excellent rebuttal to the many charges of coldness and heartlessness that have been made against the Windsors. At the end we see Timothy, happily married and the father of children who remind him of his brother.

We have all had far more exposure to political terrorism than we deserve in recent years. It is comforting and reassuring to be reminded that it is possible for even the most horrific of bodily and spiritual injuries to heal John D Cofield

Winner of the Christopher Ewart-Biggs Literary Award for 2011
Timothy Knatchbull and From a Clear Blue Sky has won the Christopher Ewart-Biggs Literary Award for 2011. The writer and director of the film, Five Minutes of Heaven also won an award. The winners were at the ceremony in Belfast on March 10th 2011 to collect their prizes. The awards recognise works that promote and encourage peace and reconciliation in Ireland and a greater understanding between the peoples of Britain and Ireland. These ideals inspired Christopher Ewart-Biggs who, as British Ambassador to Ireland, was killed by the IRA in 1976. Tim told the audience, “I will treasure this prize because it means more than any other prize I could imagine.”

Family links to India
On Monday February 14th 2011, pupils at Twyford School in Hampshire sat enthralled as Timothy Knatchbull and his mother Patricia, Countess Mountbatten of Burma talked about their family’s long history in India. Countess Mountbatten’s father had been the last Viceroy of India and her father-in-law Michael, the 5th Lord Brabourne, had been Governor of Bengal.

The Lent series of lectures at Tonbridge School
The Parents’ Arts Society at Tonbridge School in Kent invited Timothy Knatchbull to give a presentation on Thursday February 10th 2011. Tim read excerpts from his book and spoke about his childhood in which his inspirational headmaster at Gordonstoun, Michael Mavor, made such an impact on him. Michael had previously taught at Tonbridge.

How to get your copy of From A Clear Blue Sky

From a Clear Blue Sky is now available on Kindle and as an Audio Download. This is in addition to the popular hardback and paperback editions and the full and unabridged boxed Audio Book CD set.

The Browser on-line interview

Timothy Knatchbull’s on-line interview with FiveBooks is now available on The Browser. In his interview Tim discusses books which contributed to his understanding of The Troubles in Ireland. He also highlights two articles: a sermon by the Rev’d Peter Gomes entitled ‘Seeking Faith Amid Ruins’ delivered days after 9/11, and an article by Professor Richard English who investigates ’21st century Terrorism: How should we respond?’

Nehru Centre

On Tuesday November 30th 2010, the Nehru Centre in central London provided the venue for an exhibition of paintings by Indian Miniaturists and an illustrated talk by Timothy Knatchbull. In spite of a heavy fall of snow that day over 100 people attended the event held in support of the Jeevika Trust.

Rye Arts Festival

On Monday September 20th 2010 Timothy Knatchbull spoke at the 39th Rye Arts Festival in Sussex. The event was a sell out. His mother, Countess Mountbatten of Burma, his Aunt, Lady Pamela Hicks and his brother, Michael John Knatchbull were in the audience.

From a Clear Blue Sky gets into paperback

The UK paperback version of From a Clear Blue Sky was published by Arrow Books on Thursday August 5th 2010.

School Speech Day
On Friday July 2nd 2010 Timothy Knatchbull was guest speaker Blundell’s Preparatory School in Tiverton, Devon.

Award Nomination
From a Clear Blue Sky was shortlisted for the PEN/J. R. Ackerley prize of 2009/10. The award recognises a literary autobiography of excellence, written by an author of British nationality and published during the preceding year. Previous winners have included Alan Bennett for his memoir, Untold Stories, Barrie Humphries, More, Please and John Osborne, Almost a Gentleman.

A summer talk in the Garden of Kent
Timothy Knatchbull spoke at St Mary’s Church at Smeeth in Kent on Wednesday June 9th 2010 launching their summer series of talks.

The Sunday Times Oxford Literary Festival

On Saturday March 20th 2010 Timothy Knatchbull spoke at The Oxford Literary Festival. The event was held in Corpus Christi College and was introduced by Alison Boulton.

From a Clear Blue Sky published in India
Random House invited Timothy Knatchbull to launch the Indian edition of From a Clear Blue Sky. The event was held in Delhi on March 8th 2010 and co-hosted by Random House India and the Aspen Institute.

Book signing
At the invitation of John Baugh, Headmaster of the Dragon School in Oxford, Timothy Knatchbull gave a talk about From a Clear Blue Sky on Monday November 30th 2009. All proceeds went to the Nicholas Knatchbull Memorial Fund

‘Twins’

The heart of a human foetus starts to beat three weeks after conception. Mine started beating in the middle of March 1964. A few millimeters away another heart was beating alongside mine. It belonged to my identical twin. Our hearts beat in loose synchronicity over seven hundred million times until he was killed, aged fourteen.
His names were Nicholas Timothy Knatchbull and he was born at 3:40 on a cloudy Wednesday afternoon in November at King’s College Hospital in Camberwell, London. Twenty minutes later, I was born, to be named Timothy Nicholas Knatchbull.
In simple terms, identical twins are produced when a fertilised egg splits and develops into two embryos. Essentially one human divides at an early stage and emerges from the womb as two genetically identical clones. It is not just that they look the same; to all intents and purposes, they are the same. Even DNA analysis will not reliably tell them apart. It has therefore always surprised me that Nick was half a pound heavier than me and remained so for the rest of his life. We never paid any attention to diet and rarely looked at the bathroom scales but whenever we did, there were always eight ounces more of him than me. For such apparently identical children, it was equally surprising that we had feet of different sizes. More precisely, we had three feet one size, while my left foot was half a size bigger. This frustrated my mother whenever it came to buying shoes.

‘Bomb’

On the cliff top about two hundred yards away, the Gardai had parked close to a caravan opposite our lobster pots. They were looking down on the boat as it approached the shore at a slight angle, closing in on the buoys and still moving. As my grandfather slowed the boat, my grandmother turned to my mother and said, ‘Isn’t this a beautiful day?’ We were now as far from the harbour as we were going that day. My father’s account reads:

Just before we reached the place where the lobster pots [were], I moved from the [fishing] seat and sat down on the bench running along the starboard between my mother and Dickie and facing the engine. Just as I saw the first buoy Dickie speeded up the engine and I turned round so that my legs were still left on the inside of the boat, and my body was looking out over the starboard side trying to spot the buoy.

On the roof, my head was turned in the direction of the buoys off to my right. My bottom was tucked inside the old tyre. My body was facing the bow of the boat; my arms were tucked up around my knees in front of me.
William Wilkinson again:

As the boat approached us I had lost a wee bit of interest in the fishing as I wanted to focus my eyes on this man, for nosiness shall we say, because I had never seen him before. As the boat got closer I was given a nice clear view of him because he wasn’t much further than maybe about thirty yards. The boat passed and I said, ‘This boat is moving towards the shore or rocks.’ Charlie replied, ‘He is probably going over to lift lobster pots.’ When it was about sixty yards away, I still had it under observation when all of a sudden there was just this ‘boom’.

According to Garda Mullins, at 11:46, ‘Suddenly I heard an enormous bang. I saw the boat go up in pieces in the air. There was a lot of smoke and in a second the boat had disappeared. All I could see were very small pieces of wood floating on the water.’
My father later wrote:

My first memory is of a crack, rather than a bang, and then I regained consciousness under the water, being swirled round and round and head over heels. I did not stop to wonder what had happened. I just knew an absolute disaster had occurred. I tried to fight myself up to the surface and eventually reached a piece of wood which I put my arms around and this was also being tossed around by the force of the explosion in the water.

My mother wrote in her diary:

I only remember terrific explosion (and thinking it was the engine which had been playing up) and immediately being submerged and going down and down in sea with water rushing in ears. Frightened I would not get up before drowning (forgot it was shallow) or get caught beneath hull. Remembered Darling Daddy’s story of HMS Kelly sinking. Put my hands over nose and mouth to stop swallowing water and made a note to tell him I had if I got up. Remembered Dodo could swim but worried she would get bad chill. It finally got lighter and I surfaced hitting a piece of wood and not minding facial injuries I later thought caused by it! Mentally relieved to hear Darling John’s agonised voice shouting ‘Help my wife’ or
‘Where’s my wife?’ quite close. Vaguely aware of other voices before mercifully losing consciousness.

My grandfather was at the helm three or four feet behind me and slightly to my right. The gelignite under the deck must have been between us because as we rose into the air we went in different directions. I remember a sensation, as if I had been hit with a club, and a tearing sound. I do not remember my journey through the air or hitting the water but before the debris finished raining down, I was unconscious and about a hundred feet from my grandfather.

Eighty-six miles away in Granard, the Gardai had no idea what had just happened outside Mullaghmore but they were convinced they had stopped two IRA men involved in a serious crime and they now decided to act. Within five minutes of the explosion Garda James Lohan stepped up to Thomas McMahon and said, ‘I am arresting you under section thirty of the Offences against the State Act 1939. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so but anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be given in evidence.’ McMahon made no reaction. Next Lohan went to the man who had been driving him. The Gardai were soon to find out that his real name was Francis McGirl. As Lohan used the same words, his right hand on the prisoner’s shoulder, McGirl sat and grinned.

‘The Sound of the Bomb’

1
At twilight one afternoon, I twisted Philip’s arm and he agreed to come out with me so I could drive the Land-Rover. I mistimed the use of the clutch when changing up a gear, and as I did so I suddenly had an extraordinary sensation. It was as if a very loud bang had occurred. I thought maybe I had damaged the engine or the gearbox, but when I looked at Philip I saw no reaction. I said nothing. That night in bed I thought about driving the Land-Rover again. Suddenly a bang filled my head. I was surprised, slightly scared at first, and completely perplexed. Again and again in the coming months the sound returned to me. I had no idea why.
In July 1980 my parents took us on a family holiday to the South of France. I was playing golf with my brother Joe at the Mandelieu Golf Club near Cannes. We had to cross a small river in a boat and walk to the next hole, passing under a railway bridge. As I did so a fast-moving train passed overhead. The suddenness of it took me completely by surprise, terrifying me. As suddenly as the noise arrived, it disappeared and I realized I was screaming in fear. I walked on shaking like a leaf, and as soon as I could I made a big joke out of it with Joe and left it at that.
I started to think more and more about what was going on in my head. Why had the sound of this train unnerved me so much? The episode persuaded me that the sound of the bomb was somehow travelling around with me every day, suppressed in my mind but waiting to pop up when a stimulus came along. It was almost impossible for me to predict when I would hear it but I began to notice patterns, and the more I noticed the patterns, the more familiar I felt with my own psyche. I had many almost invisible scars from the bomb, and this mental scar seemed of little more significance than the scar on my left thumb. Just as I might roll a pebble around in my pocket, I sometimes found myself in moments of solitude, reflection or just boredom, looking down and touching the familiar old scar. It is like the wrapper off a childhood toy found in the back of a cupboard; the toy and childhood have long since gone but the memories are summoned.
I began to settle in with this mental scar. I knew that I could not predict or control it. I knew that no one else could tell when I was experiencing it. Strangely, as well as being eerie, I found it almost reassuring. I was so lacking in symptoms, and so often complimented for being so ‘strong’ that I sometimes wondered if I had a screw loose and had turned into a psychopath. Nicky was dead and I had not had any sort of breakdown. The sound in my head proved I was feeling something. It was intriguing, perhaps satisfying; in a macabre way, sometimes it almost entertained me. When would it go off next?

2
… in moments of quietness I found myself thinking again of what it must have been like for my parents when Nick had been killed. I realised that many questions about Nick’s death still hung unanswered at the back of my mind, and that as I went forward in life as a father, I needed to answer them. I wanted to be emotionally strong for the family I was starting and for that I needed to exorcise the remaining unresolved grief that lingered from Nick. In previous years I had occasionally considered a church service in his memory but it had not felt right and I had not found any other solution.
As the weeks following Amber’s birth went by, I realised that above all I was thankful for the gift of her life. That made me all the more aware that my own life was a gift. I had once come within a hair’s breadth of losing it. I owed my life to the couple who had pulled me from the water. Sitting by Amber’s cot, I decided to write them a letter. I walked to my study desk and took out a sheet of paper.

Dear Mr and Mrs Wood-Martin,
How easy it is in the hurly burly of life to hurry past the important things and leave them undone. In the more than 20 years of life I have had since you saved me from drowning after the bomb, it amazes me that I have failed to reach out and singularly thank you for doing for me the greatest service it is possible for one person to render another: to save his life.
Of course I remember talking to you at the wedding of Norton and Penny, and signing my parents’ Christmas cards many times since, but these are incidental. Only in recent years have I reached that point in my underlying emotional recovery to be able to understand enough about life, and surviving the bomb, to know that small steps like this one are vital in the ongoing process of integrating the past into a fulfilled and happy present.
Many a time in the several years of therapy I did in the mid nineties did I find myself talking about you, and resolving to write this letter. But I never did.
I remember reading an interview with you, and being fascinated to learn things about the bomb only you could have known. It was helpful, as indeed is writing this letter. I think others in my family have different ways of coping with the grief. Of all of us, I think my mother and I share most closely the need to discover small and important truths, and to communicate with others about them. Occasionally, even publicly, because I’ve learnt how often it helps others.
One of my greatest frustrations is how rarely I am able to cry the deep cry I need to. Perhaps only a couple of times a year. And some people mistake the tears for pain, when of course they’re not, they’re the pain coming out. Writing this letter has been like pulling a big splinter of grief and emotion out of me, and the tears and relief have been enormous in so doing.
I recognise that no demonstration of gratitude could adequately repay the gift of continued life you gave me in 1979, nor express sufficiently what I feel. So all I will say is thank you. And ask you to bear in mind every day that somewhere else in the world is someone loving the miracle of life thanks to you.
And what a miracle it is; my wife Isabella gave birth to our first child, Amber, on January 3rd, and never have I known a baby smile so much, reflecting back perhaps our own happiness.
When and if our paths will cross I do not know; either by design, or chance as they did once before. But somehow I feel they will. Until then my love and every good wish,
Timothy

Two things surprised me. First, it was a very quick letter to write; it flowed almost as if by reflex. Second, writing it made me cry. I had difficulty in keeping the writing paper dry, just managing to keep it away from my waterfall. I was determined not to make the letter look ridiculous by smudging it with tears. I stifled the noise of my crying because I did not want to upset Isabella, or interrupt either the letter or my tears, both of which were very therapeutic. I sat back thinking that if this letter to people I hardly knew had produced such a powerful reaction, then I must go back to Ireland and explore everything that had lain dormant in my psyche for so long.

‘IRA’

When wanting to bring order to Burma after the defeat of the Japanese in 1945, my grandfather insisted that the Burmese nationalist leader Aung San, aged thirty, was to lead the government. The British civilian governor remonstrated and my grandfather fought him, even having him temporarily sent back to London. As Viceroy of India in 1947 he took a similar line, insisting that power be handed to the very nationalists who had previously been locked up by the British. He was being more than practical; he was following his own instincts and ethics.
One day in 1975 he went for a drive in the area around Benbulben, the mountain that dominates the Sligo skyline. He took pleasure in discovering for himself a piece of IRA history from earlier in the century. A monument nearby was inscribed: ‘On this spot Captain Harry Benson and Volunteer Thomas Langan gave their lives for the republic, 20 September 1922.’ He discovered that they had been killed during the Civil War by forces of the Free State and that a wooden cross had been erected on the mountain that year which had been replaced by a granite one in 1947. He photographed it and put the print in his photograph album with the caption: ‘Grave of 2 IRA officers killed on the estate in 1922 on Ben Whiskin, opposite Ben Bulbin’.
Finding this photograph in 2003, I was struck by three points. First, that he should take the trouble to find the spot on the top of a mountain, miles from the main road. Second, that he should want to put a photograph of it in his album. Third, that he should use the same term for these men as for those on earlier pages of his album who had died under his command in the Second World War: ‘officers’.
He plainly loved and respected Ireland’s political and cultural heritage and had not been put off returning to Classiebawn even when the Cabinet Office in London had pointed out: ‘If you had no IRA man on your estate you would probably be the only landowner in the Republic of whom this could be said!’

‘Face to Face’

Dr Harbison was answering my questions with care, expertise, patience and honesty but I knew that one last step remained: the photographs. I was tense, preparing to look at the photographs of my beloved 14-year-old identical twin. I would of course have declined had it not been for the aching pain I had felt for 24 years at never having had a last look at Nicky. I had never seen him dying or dead. And by the time I reached his grave 7 days after his funeral my child’s mind had hung in blank incomprehension. I had wondered if he really was in that grave at all. I had wondered what his remains looked like. Those questions had been in my head for 24 years. Now I had the chance to come face to face one last time.
For some seconds I looked at the first photo. I could feel myself digesting the information coming off the photograph. It was a process that absorbed me. Then I lowered my eyes to Nicky’s chest and quite unexpectedly the steely calm left me and a stirring feeling welled up from somewhere low in my chest. For a second or two my eyes got blurry with tears. I blinked and my mind took over again, my stirring feeling left, and I was able to say very quietly, ‘That’s the jumper Nanny knitted.’ I hadn’t thought of that jumper since I last saw Nicky. It had completely gone from my mind. Now I looked at the photograph, the thing that knocked me sideways was not the state of his body; I had prepared myself for that. It was the knitting of Nanny in whose woollen V-neck he had been killed. She had been like a second mother. For the last couple of years she had stopped coming to Classiebawn with us, staying instead at home in Mersham. In 1979 she was 87 and she wrote on hearing that Nicky was dead that her heart had broken. In Professor Harbison’s office I just had not expected to have Nanny there with me, but I looked at that lovingly knitted little V-neck, whose individual strands of wool were so clearly caught by the Garda photographer’s camera, and it wasn’t Nicky’s body that jolted me, for it was utterly lifeless and painless; what jolted me was the sudden reminder of the living pain that Nanny went through for the last years of her long life. She died five years later.

‘Peace’

In 1979 I came away from Ireland with an understanding of the country and its people which was that of an innocent fourteen-year-old. I did not ask difficult questions and this helped me get along happily, largely untouched by suspicion, fear and hate. My return to Ireland equipped me with a far greater understanding of the situation in which I had been immersed and an equally greater understanding of my own feelings. I gained a firm basis for the forgiveness which had crept over me in the intervening years. Perhaps the most difficult question was how I felt about Thomas McMahon. At the end of the year I accepted at least this: that if I had been born into a republican stronghold, lived my life as dictated by conditions in Northern Ireland, and been educated through the events of the 1960s and 1970s, my life might well have turned out the way Thomas McMahon’s did. In this respect I felt ultimately inalienable even from him.