There’s nothing like ‘hitting the wall’. It’s a rather quaint expression used when you have used up all your energy and there’s nothing left. A lot of sportspeople are very familiar with this expression.
But it doesn’t have anything to do with hitting a real wall, you know the sort, made out of plaster, or bricks, or timber. Some people hit the wall in this case too, and soon find out what it’s like to have a broken hand.
There’s wall street, you know the one, it has a bull in it, and it’s in New York, down that end of the city where the Twin Towers used to be. It’s rumoured lots of ‘jiggery-pokery’ goes on there.
Try stonewalling, you know, give answers to questions that don’t answer the questions, or find something else to do and put off being questioned. I’m not sure, however, that’s how Stonewall Jackson got his name.
We can climb the walls, metaphorically speaking, but it is something we don’t actually do when we’re bored.
And, I’m sure everyone has heard of the Great Wall of China. Even those who travel in space have seen it, from a long, long way away. I’ve tried walking along it, and up it, yes, parts of it go up the sides of mountains, and it’s challenging. Maybe you should try it sometime.
Perhaps a few others, just to finish with, like
I got hit by a wall of water – yep, watch out for them tidal waves
There’s a wall between us, nope, not gonna talk to you
His stomach wall is failing, which means he’s in very bad shape, and
He couldn’t get through the wall of players, oh, well, maybe we’ll win the FA cup final next year!
Now that I’ve hit the age of 65, I now have to give some consideration to creating a will.
You know, that document that specifies which child gets what, or if you think any or all of them don’t deserve what’s left of the hard-earned millions, which cat or dog will inherit a fortune.
A will is both a reason for siblings or beneficiaries to kill to get a reward or the fact you have to make one so that the state doesn’t inherit your fortune.
This is only one use of the word.
Another might be that it’s possible to have something like the will to carry on.
Carry on what?
Life, a marriage, a business relationship.
Does it require will power, or is it a matter of where there’s a will there’s a way?
I will come over. I will turn up tomorrow.
In this sense, it is promoting futility.
Of course, seeing is believing.
And as a bit of self-serving advertising, I’m going to promote a new story, actually titled, The Will.
Inheritance can resolve monetary problems, and not only that, set one of the siblings up financially for life. All they have to do is wrest the family home from the dying fingers of a mother who had seen it all.
Into the mix comes the grandson, a man who sometimes is a son but mostly a grandson, someone who doesn’t fit in, who doesn’t want to follow family tradition, and who prefers to go to his grandmothers rather than going home to his family.
He is constantly appalled at his mother’s lack of respect for her mother and suddenly finds himself in the middle of a battle between his grandmother and her daughter, his mother, over the family estate.
Who will win?
That’s a question that will be answered when you read the book.
The Aratiatia Dam, rapids, and hydroelectric power station are located on the Waikato River, New Zealand’s longest river. It is about 16km from Taupo, and 6km from Huka falls, and there is a walking track, for the fit, of course, between the two water attractions.
This happens three or four times every day, depending on the season, and lasts about 15 minutes. Water is released at the rate of about 80,000 liters a second, so it is quite a lot of water being sent through the rapids.
There are a number of viewing points, the most popular being from the bridge, where I took these photos, and 5 minutes down the walking track to the ridgeline where you can get an overview of the river.
This is looking towards the rapids, as the catchment leading to the rapids starts to fill
The pool is almost full and the excess is starting its journey towards the rapids
Now full, the rapids are at capacity as up to 80,000 liters a second are heading down a 28-meter drop heading towards the hydroelectric power station.
And once full at the bottom, there is a jet boat ride available for a closer view of the water, and a few thrills to go with it.
For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.
Whilst I have always had a fascination in what happened during the second worlds war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.
And, so, it continues…
I remained on the spot, not moving, for at least five minutes before I let out a sigh of relief. It would be relatively safe because I had heard them walk off, following the river, and Jack, as my eyes and ears, had been out and had come back,. tail wagging slightly.
I was hoping he was not in league with Jackerby.
“So,” I said quietly to him, “you think it is safe out there?” To be honest, I was not sure why I was asking the dog, or, for that matter, if he understood a word I was saying.
I took tail wagging as a good sign.
Until, all of a sudden he went quiet and very still again, ears up and listening.
Then, I heard what he had heard. The cracking sound of a foot on a twig or dry branch.
From behind me.
We both turned slowly.
An Italian man, about mid 30’s with a dated rifle in his hands, aimed at my head, not twenty feet away. I was not going to take the chance he couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.
“Who are you?” He started with schoolboy German, obviously not his first language.
The problem I had was deciding whether he was the traitor, or with the resistance that hadn’t been betrayed.
“Not a German for starters,” I said.
I noticed Jack was standing very still with teeth bared. He didn’t like this man. Perhaps he too didn’t like the odds of rushing the man with the gun.
“Englander?”
The way a German would call an Englishman.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Are you from the castle?”
That was a trick question if I say no, he wouldn’t believe me, and if I said yes, I’d be tarred with the German brush.
“I escaped from there, so in a manner of speaking, yes I am from the castle.”
“Name?”
It couldn’t hurt to tell him. “Sam Atherton.”
He let the gun drop, but it was still in a position to shoot me if I tried anything.
“Are you from the resistance? I mean the group that hasn’t been compromised by a traitor?”
“I don’t know anything about the resistance if there is one. I’m a farmer, trying to go about his business in the middle of a war. What are you doing here?”
It might seem to anyone rather odd to be standing around in the woods. “Hiding from two men who have come from the castle to follow me.”
He looked around. “Where are they now?”
“Supposedly following me into the village, in that direction,” I pointed to where I thought the village was, “where I’m supposed to be leading them to the resistance, which, you said, doesn’t exist.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t exist, only that I don’t know anything about it. What makes you think there is a resistance unit in these parts?”
Good question. And, depending on what side he was on, still to be determined, I was not going to give them away. “I’m acting on some sketchy intelligence we got in London, along with the possibility that the men in the castle, who are supposed to be Englanders, as you call them, but who are actually working with the Germans. Seems they were right on one count, because they caught me and put me in a cell, and possibly wrong, according to you, on the other.”
“How did you manage to get away, if you were in a cell.”
So, here comes the part that sounds totally improbable. “One of the two men following me broke me out.”
Yes, the look on his face said it all.
I shrugged. “Ask the dog. He’ll tell you. His name is Jack by the way, but I’m not sure if he understands English.”
The dog went still again and turned his head.
Another crack, another person in the undergrowth, coming from the other side of the bushes. My first thought, my two pursuers, realizing they’d lost me, had circled back to find me.
The man in front didn’t raise his gun, so it was someone he knew.
“Who is he?”
A woman’s voice. I turned my head slightly. She was older, perhaps this man’s mother. She had a pistol in her left hand.
“Claims he escaped from the castle.”
“They all do.”
I heard a soft bang, and then something in my back, like a needle.
Seconds later my heard started spinning, and few more seconds later my legs gave out, and darkness followed.
There was a man in a red suit, a man in a blue suit, a woman in a green suit and another woman in a grey suit.
Grey suit spoke first, “Are all you people from the earth as tiresome as you are Captain?”
She was either the lowest rank or the highest.
“We are an interesting bunch when you get to know us, which, despite this turn of events, I hope we do. We have a predilection for interfering in matters where we see injustices.”
“Be that as it may, I would like to remind you, that what might pass as acceptable behaviour on your planet, might not be on ours. You should be aware that in your travels, everyone you may or may not meet has their own specific rules, customs, and regulations which can and will be a lot different to yours.”
“I accept that, and in fact, in the briefing we had before leaving earth, it was impressed upon us that very premise. And I understand that we may be seen to be interfering in matters that are not our concern. But, and there’s always a but, that’s how we humans think and rationalise the many situations we often find ourselves in, we don’t like injustices.”
“Does what might appear an injustice to one, not be one to another? There is ample evidence in your history that points to those overlooking so-called injustices for the greater good?”
“That may be true in the past, but we like to think we have evolved into a better civilization. But we are not perfect, as you point out. However, this instance does not qualify as an instance for the greater good, it is simply the selfish whim of a single person. We have people who are supposed to set an example too and don’t, because they don’t believe the rules apply to them, and I would like to believe that you, too, would not tolerate this sort of behaviour in your leaders. Your people have been living on our planet for some time, I gather, so you should know that.”
Blue suit had been looking rather severely at me. “It was a mistake to let you people develop space travel capability. Our efforts to delay it haven’t been as successful as we had anticipated. You are not ready.”
That someone or something had been manipulating our progress would probably not come as a surprise to some back home. My knowledge of the steps we took to get where I was now pointed to several disasters that set the whole program back nearly twenty years, if not more.
I wonder how the Admiral would react when I told him. If I told him.
“It was inevitable, like everything we do. Unfortunately for you, we thrive on adversity.”
“You are not the only warlike race in the galaxy you know. You may want to hold off meeting them for as long as you can, but they know where you are, so there’s more than one inevitability.”
“By uttering those words, does that make you look more like the aggressors than us? The thing is, we’re out her for better or for worse, and I think you know what has transpired here is an injustice, but the ramifications are unpalatable. We have an expression; absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Blue suit looked as though he was going to explode. “It is no use talking to these primitives.”
Grey suit glared at him. “It is your house that is not in order, and we have tolerated it for long enough.” She looked at her fellow members and received nods. Blue suit disappeared, most likely transported back to the planet.
Grey suit: “You are, using another of your sayings on earth, “treading on very thin ice.”
Green suit took up the narrative. “We believe you would not adhere to a request to turn around and go back home, so, before you alert the galaxy that you are now participants in intergalactic exploration, take heed of this warning. Not all species are friendly. Most are bound by customs and rules which are nothing like yours, and it is possible you will commit the most heinous of crimes by just acting normally.
In this instance, you may have uncovered a problem that we were not aware of, and lucky for you, is a minor transgression in accordance with our customs. We are no longer those people and will rectify the issue. The prisoner in question will be allowed to remain on your vessel to do with as you wish. If you are to continue your travels, I suggest you do so with caution.”
Grey suit again, “We acknowledge you are not going to go away. So, as the first gesture of friendship between our worlds, we would like you to return the Princess to her home world, and before you do, we will provide you with an advisor to help you navigate the protocols of her world. We will also grant two members of your crew an audience with our scribes who will give you knowledge of our worlds and people, and that of others in this galaxy. The other ship does not get this privilege and must leave immediately. If they do not, they will be destroyed. There will be no negotiation on this matter. Do you agree?”
It was probably the best we could hope for under the circumstances.
“Yes.”
Grey suit to their captain. “I’ll leave you to work on the details.”
50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.
They all start with –
A picture paints … well, as many words as you like. For instance:
And, the story:
Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?
Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave. Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.
But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision. She needed the opportunity to spread her wings. It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.
She was in a rut. Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.
It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper. I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.
And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere. Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication. It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.
So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock. We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.
It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one. Starting the following Monday.
Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.
I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.
What surprised her was my reaction. None.
I simply asked where who, and when.
A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.
A week.
It was all the time I had left with her.
I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.
She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.
Is that all you want to know?
I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.
There’s not much to ask, I said. You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place, and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.
Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would. And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.
One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.
So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.
Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology. It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you. I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.
Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.
I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me, you can make cabinets anywhere.
I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job. It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.
Then the only question left was, what do we do now?
Go shopping for suitcases. Bags to pack, and places to go.
Getting on the roller coaster is easy. On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top. It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.
What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.
Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.
There was no question of going with her to New York. Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back. After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind. New friends new life.
We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.
Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever. I remember standing there, watching the taxi go. It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.
So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.
Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.
People coming, people going.
Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was. Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.
As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.
Whilst I can’t be where I would like to be, it’s not that bad inside thanks to the air conditioning.
And I’m studying up on how far I would need to wind down the air conditioner in order for it to snow inside the house.
A foolish notion maybe, but oddly enough living in a country where most of the inhabitants rarely see snow, if at all, Hollywood has a lot to answer for my expectations of a white Christmas.
But, venturing outside for no reason, in particular, the heat hits you as bad as if you walked into a brick wall.
It reminds me of the first time we visited Singapore, the plane arrived around midnight, and we were heading to an overnight hotel before picking up the next leg into London.
Yes, another trip to the cold side of the world.
We thought, late at night, how hot could it be. We soon found out. The short walk from the terminal to the waiting limousine was like wading through head-high water.
What does all this waffle have to do with anything?
Nothing.
Just wallowing in nostalgia.
I was once hoping with our impeccable COVID record, that places like New Zealand and Singapore might allow us to travel there again, but no. The government decided to open the borders to everyone and COVID came marching in.
I’ve lost count of the number of waves we’ve had, but now, unlike every other time, people are dying in larger numbers, and case numbers are heading for 7 figures, and for a country with only 28 million or so, that’s nearly one twenty-fifth of everyone.
Now we have so many people in isolation with Omicron, there’s no one left to work, so, no staff for cafes or supermarkets or essential services like hospitals and ambulances, no one to deliver the fuel (or anything else for that matter), no one to harvest and process the crops, in which case, it means we’ll be roughly in the equivalent of dire straits.
How long before the lights go out because there’s no one to tend the generators.
We were, and are, not prepared and never have been.
No one saw this coming? I think people just closed their eyes and made a wish that it would just go away because we had so many vaccinated. Sorry, doesn’t work that way. The vaccine doesn’t stop you from getting it, just helps not to let it kill you.
Now the Israelis are saying a fourth booster is useless against Omicron.
And, of course, Omicron is not the last of the variants. I’m sure there’s something nastier waiting in the wings. Sorry if I’m sounding despondent, but there’s isn’t any good news. None. Zip. Zero. Even our chief health officer, a person who should be trying to calm the population, is telling us everyone is going to get Omicron, and there are going to be deaths.
Wow!
I’ve locked myself away, trying to keep COVID at bay because of a compromised immune system, but my children, their partners, and partners’ families have all got it, and it’s far too close to home.
I can’t see how I’m going to dodge the bullet, and if I get it, then my chances of survival are small, even being triple vaccinated because all the studies prove the vaccine is useless against Omicron.
I was looking for a doomsday scenario for a book. The problem is, it’s here, right now, and I may not get to finish it.
With my attention elsewhere, I walked into a man who was hurrying in the opposite direction. He was a big man with a scar running down the left side of his face from eye socket to mouth, and who was also wearing a black shirt with a red tie.
That was all I remembered as my heart almost stopped.
He apologized as he stepped to one side, the same way I stepped, as I also muttered an apology.
I kept my eyes down. He was not the sort of man I wanted to recognize later in a lineup. I stepped to the other side and so did he. It was one of those situations. Finally getting out of sync, he kept going in his direction, and I towards the bus, which was now pulling away from the curb.
Getting my breath back, I just stood riveted to the spot watching it join the traffic. I looked back over my shoulder, but the man I’d run into had gone. I shrugged and looked at my watch. It would be a few minutes before the next bus arrived.
Wait, or walk? I could also go by subway, but it was a long walk to the station. What the hell, I needed the exercise.
At the first intersection, the ‘Walk’ sign had just flashed to ‘Don’t Walk’. I thought I’d save a few minutes by not waiting for the next green light. As I stepped onto the road, I heard the screeching of tires.
A yellow car stopped inches from me.
It was a high powered sports car, perhaps a Lamborghini. I knew what they looked like because Marcus Bartleby owned one, as did every other junior executive in the city with a rich father.
Everyone stopped to look at me, then the car. It was that sort of car. I could see the driver through the windscreen shaking his fist, and I could see he was yelling too, but I couldn’t hear him. I stepped back onto the sidewalk, and he drove on. The moment had passed and everyone went back to their business.
My heart rate hadn’t come down from the last encounter. Now it was approaching cardiac arrest, so I took a few minutes and several sets of lights to regain composure.
At the next intersection, I waited for the green light, and then a few seconds more, just to be sure. I was no longer in a hurry.
At the next, I heard what sounded like a gunshot. A few people looked around, worried expressions on their faces, but when it happened again, I saw it was an old car backfiring. I also saw another yellow car, much the same as the one before, stopped on the side of the road. I thought nothing of it, other than it was the second yellow car I’d seen.
At the next intersection, I realized I was subconsciously heading towards Harry’s new bar. It was somewhere on 6th Avenue, so I continued walking in what I thought was the right direction.
I don’t know why I looked behind me at the next intersection, but I did. There was another yellow car on the side of the road, not far from me. It, too, looked the same as the original Lamborghini, and I was starting to think it was not a coincidence.
Moments after crossing the road, I heard the roar of a sports car engine and saw the yellow car accelerate past me. As it passed by, I saw there were two people in it, and the blurry image of the passenger; a large man with a red tie.
Now my imagination was playing tricks.
It could not be the same man. He was going in a different direction.
In the few minutes I’d been standing on the pavement, it had started to snow; early for this time of year, and marking the start of what could be a long cold winter. I shuddered, and it was not necessarily because of the temperature.
I looked up and saw a neon light advertising a bar, coincidentally the one Harry had ‘found’ and, looking once in the direction of the departing yellow car, I decided to go in. I would have a few drinks and then leave by the back door if it had one.
There is always something strange about certain photographs that is not evident when you take them.
For instance, the photograph above.
While this might look like some vegetation by the side of a river or stream, its that are of blackness behind what looks like steps up from the water level that adds a level of intrigue or mystery.
For instance:
…
We had spent two weeks slowly going upriver looking for a needle in a haystack. It was an apt description, because there had been quite a large number of likely spots, all of which after investigation, came to nothing.
I mean, the description Professor Bates had given is was as hazy as day is long in these parts.
His recollection: that it was what looked like a cave behind lush undergrowth, with steps fashioned out of stone.
It was all the more confuse. Because when we found him, he was drifting on a rough hewn and constructed raft, half dead from dehydration. We were told he’d been on the raft for nearly a week.
That meant the cave could be anywhere between where we found him at the 10 mile mark, and 200 miles further on based on river flow.
We were currently at the 150 mile mark and the river was losing depth and width, and soon there would not be enough water to continue in the boat.
It was dusk and too dark to continue. We’d been enthusiastic those first days, continuing on in the dark, on shifts, using the arc lamps.
Then after a week, having lights on made us target practise, and after sever brushes with death, and the loss of all the bulbs being shot out, we got the message.
There was the odd marauder during the day, but we had the width of the river for safety. Now that had gone too, and we had lookouts posted, but seeing into the dense jungle was difficult.
But we got through another night with no activity, and come morning, what looked like the entrance to a cave was not fifteen feet from us.
John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.
Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.
If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favor for him in Rome.
At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.
That ‘favor’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.
Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 