The word left conjures up many interesting connotations such as:
Left at the altar, not a very nice occurrence but an oft-used scenario to fuel a Romcom
Should have turned left at Albuquerque, used by Bugs Bunny in a cartoon I saw once, and now basically is the go-to phrase when you get lost and have to tell someone
Lefties, not exactly the word but oft used to describe one side of politics usually leaning towards socialism or communism, or perhaps simply because they don’t agree with us
They’re coming at us left, right, and centre, meaning people, or some other object, are coming from everywhere, that is, from all directions
But one of some more simple explanations, I’m left-handed, which means I write with my left hand.
Only that doesn’t mean that I’m left-handed at everything because I’m right-handed using a bat and playing golf. How does that work?
Turn left which means you turn in a specific direction, directly opposite to another direction, right, but I defy you to describe exactly how to turn left!
Oh, and by the way, I often get left and right mixed up.
There was only one slice of cake left, which means someone else ate it all, or that there’s one slice remaining, and you’d better be quick getting it.
Or probably the saddest of the examples, I left London to go home, meaning that I had to depart a place I wanted to stay but circumstances dictated I had to leave. Usually, you have to go back to work where you came from, but more realistically you couldn’t afford to stay.
In politics, if you are a right-wing conservative, anyone from the other side is a left-wing lunatic. Politics can be very polarising and there is often an all-or-nothing approach to the opposition. Rarely is there a middle of the road.
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.
I was trying to look like I was not doing what I was doing, and that sometimes was quite difficult.
The thing is, you know what it is you’re doing, and neutrally, you think that everyone else does too.
Especially when people are looking at you, and that look conveys ‘I know what you’re up to’.
All I was doing was sitting on a park bench under a tree next to a small waterfall reading a newspaper.
That was the first giveaway. No one stopped to read newspapers these days. It was always about instant news gratification on the cell phone.
The second might well have been me holding the newspaper upside down, or worse, that I had cut two small holes in it so I could see beyond the newspaper without lowering it, much like the cartoons of old.
The third definitely was, that if anyone got close enough, they would see it was yesterday’s paper. I had been running late and grabbed the wrong edition.
So, why was I sitting on a park bench under a tree beside a small waterfall, trying to look like I was not doing exactly that?
I was expecting company.
It didn’t matter who was sitting on that bench, just that they wore a pinstripe suit and a red rose in the lapel. The bowler hat and umbrella were optional, but I was feeling whimsical.
After all, in a sense, I was a typical English public servant.
Jacobson, ostensibly the man in charge of a group if us aspiring ‘public servants’ had chosen me to run this errand. I don’t know why. It was not my turn on the roster, and the person who should be going had been sent elsewhere.
It was unexpected and a much-needed change in what had been a very dull week.
I was five minutes early. I had taken in the early summer afternoon sunshine, clear sky, and aromas of the outdoor gardens. There was that freshly watered newly mown grass aroma that hung in the air.
There were quite a few other people also out for the afternoon, some strolling hand in hand, others as families with boisterous noisy children. There was plenty of distraction and camouflage.
I folded the newspaper neatly, put it on the seat beside me, and sat back, looking towards the lake and thinking I might take a walk down and back before returning to the office.
It’s best not to look like I was scuttling back to the office after making the pickup because that was what it was. A drop-off and pick-up in plain sight, my first and hopefully not my last.
I looked at my phone, ostensibly to check for incoming messages, but in reality, looking at the time.
One minute past the appointed arrival time.
I gave the scene before me a scan trying to look like I was not scanning the scene before me. That was difficult.
There were three possible threats that fitted the profile of a possible threat, and I was hoping they were not.
The first, is a man on another park bench under a tree, not beside a small waterfall, reading a newspaper. It was too far away to tell if it was an older edition. He was glancing in my direction, able to see me without lowering his paper.
The second was a woman with a pram; standing in front, stopped and ostensibly attending to the child within, if there was a child within. She had only arrived a minute before the appointed time.
The third was another man on another park bench not reading a paper by rather animatedly talking on his cell phone, at the same time looking in my direction. Was he on the phone reporting, or was he talking to a friend?
Scan ended, and the target, a woman dressed to be noticed, was strolling towards me along the path in a group of about a dozen others evenly spaced, looking like there’ll were together but they were not together.
So much for anonymity.
The first man noticed the new arrival and was on alert. It could be that she stood out, the sort of woman men would give a second look. She certainly had my attention.
This was getting to be thirsty work, and I took a drink out of the bottle of water I had brought with me.
The woman with the pram had noticed the first man on his bench stiffen and stopped fussing with the child, and started rocking horse the pram, looking at both him then me, then up and down the path, then repeat. Was that a look of jealousy after she was the approaching woman?
Was she waiting and looking for my target, or was she waiting for a friend or partner? She was moving towards me slowly.
The third man’s phone call ended when a woman came and sat next to him and greeted him effusively. Distraction.
The woman with the pram was suddenly met by another woman, older, most likely a mother carrying a large fluffy toy. Another Distraction.
First man, no longer on his seat, no longer in sight, where the hell was he? Damn.
Target arrives, and sits, there’s not supposed to be any interaction, but the first man just hovers into sight and is now looking directly at us.
“Long time no see,” the girl said and slid over towards me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me. It was a fluid movement from sitting, sliding, and gathering me up in her web of deceit.
I kissed her back. I was happy to play the part asked of me.
Then she leaned back and smiled. It was like we had known each other forever. “My God, you have changed, Daniel, and I have to say I love it.”
She had all but taken my breath away, but not so much that the man who had been watching had moved on, assuming as anyone would that two old friends had just reunited.
All I could say was, “Wow.”
She took my hand in hers and said, “Walk with me.”
She didn’t need to ask twice. Once up, she didn’t let go. It was a smooth and fluid operation, and it felt natural and not forced. I had to remind myself that j was playing a role, it was an operation, and that we were improvising.
Over my shoulder, I could see the first man had stopped a short distance away, now intrigued, perhaps to see how this played out. If he was expecting a drop, he was not expecting two old lovers to reunite.
I leaned towards her, whispering, “Over my shoulder red handkerchief.”
“Saw him on approach. Amateur.” Then out loud, ” You got that dull as ditchwater desk job, where was it, treasury or no let me guess, revenue and customs?”
“That was the old me, you know, the one you said you wouldn’t be caught dead with. No, I’m in a far more interesting home, science innovation, and technology.”
“You failed science at school, come to think of it you all but failed everything except how to wear that old-school tie. My, and you thought you’d end up on a fishing trawler cleaning the bilges.”
“And therefore totally qualified to work for the government in something I know absolutely nothing about. Did you get that modelling contact?”
“And a screen test. I was going to be in the movies until I realised what the screen test entailed. Now I just model clothes.”
The banter, the manner in which we were walking, the carefree air of two people who had nothing better to do, we were heading for the nearest cafe. Coffee, cake, more outlandish conversation, the drop would be made, my life would have fifteen minutes of what I’d always wanted but would never get, and the job would be done.
Our new friend was already losing interest.
When I finally returned to the office, I tried to act like nothing happened and completely failed. The thing is, I was supposed to be able to handle any situation, act in any role it took to get the job done, then go home and come back the next day ready for the next role.
What happened before happened and was forgotten. Our lives were quite literally clean slates every morning. There was no time to dwell on what happened or what might happen.
Except…
“You’re not the first,” Lenny, another of the team, said. “The fact is, we all want to spend a few minutes with her. I’m told her name is Harriet. They call her Harry for short.
Jay, listening to the conversation, said, “Larry’s furious because he had been slated for this operation, and has now missed out. “He’s been assigned to work with her before.”
That might be the reason why he was passed over. She might not want to work with him again. I remembered him from training, and he particularly was prone not to follow orders or ‘ad lib’.
“Perhaps she wanted someone new, who knows how this works. No one understands what it is we’re really doing that involved her,” Larry muttered, “but the scuttlebutt is that we’re still being tested. How did it go?”
“Mission accomplished, potential threats taken care of, and I’ve been debriefed. I’m sure if there was anything wrong, they’ll tell me.”
Sixteen of us had gotten through the first round of training, out of an intake of about a hundred. That had been whittled down to six, and I was not sure if I was pleased or sad that my tenure would be determined by a situation, I had no control over.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that whatever they’d been giving us to do, we were still being tested; only these were far more life-like than training. The question was if I ended up being in the final few, whether or not I would take it.
At the end of the day, I went home.
We had been told from the outset that this was not going to be a nine-to-five job, that we could go anywhere, at any time of the day or night, to do almost anything. We had to be able to drop everything and simply go. As per instructions, I had an away bag packed at ready to go.
And more important was that we should have no attachments, and one of the questions, and the main reason why the people recruited us, was because we had no families or friends of consequence. The reason it was stressed; they could be used as leverage.
On the other hand, if we had those special people we cared about, our minds would not be on the job in hand.
I certainly fit the loner category. My parents were dead, and I had no brothers or sisters or family of any sort, making me the ideal candidate. I certainly didn’t want friends; they had constantly let me down in the past.
Of course, if this didn’t work out. I was going to leave the country and become a ski instructor in New Zealand, a place I doubted anyone I knew knew existed.
But until then, my small place in Brooklyn was where I could hide from the rest of the world.
Or so I thought.
I walked up the stairs to the third level, where I shared the floor with another apartment. I ran into the other occupant the day I moved in, and he had referred to as the penthouse if only to feel better about the small space.
It was enough for me, as a temporary space to call home if and when I would be in London. I wasn’t planning on being there long or often.
A glance at the other door, the occupant was away. I unlocked my door and went in. It was unusually dark, and I did not remember pulling the curtains, I usually left them open to get some natural light in the main room
I stopped inside the door and leaned against it. There was a very familiar aroma in the room, a particular brand of perfume I had recently become acquainted with.
“Checking to see if I can notice a break and enter,” I said, at that moment to no one in particular.
If I was right, it was the woman I had met in the park who shared a fifteen-minute adventure.
The chair beside my desk swung around, and she was sitting cross-legged on it. She fit into it like it had been made for her. It also demonstrated a certain flexibility.
“What gave me away?”
“Perfume?”
“I will have to deal with that, something less potent.”
“Unless you want to intoxicate your target.”
“Does that mean I have you under my spell?”
She uncurled herself from the chair and sashayed over to me. I could not take my eyes off her, as I suspect was the point.
“If I deemed you a threat, we would be in a very different position right now.”
She smiled.
“Your training officer said you were more dangerous than a cage of riled rattlesnakes.”
“My compatriots would give their right arms to go on a mission with you.”
“And you?”
“I need my right arm, so no.”
“That’s a pity. You’ve reached the end of your training, and you’re ready. Would you like to stay? It’s not mandatory. Long hours, bad pay, and definitely no thanks. I don’t know why anyone would want to.”
“Today, you almost gave me a heart attack. It’s the most alive I’ve ever been. How could I refuse?”
“You will be working with me then. Undercover. It’s going to be long and arduous, and the people who were cosying up to are very, very dangerous. I’ve got your legend, and you’ll have a day to study it, remember every detail, and then live it. In or out?”
“Right now?”
“Right now. We leave tomorrow night. There is no time to think about it.”
I shrugged. “I’m in.”
“Good. Everything you’ll need is in your bedroom. Until tomorrow then.”
She took a step closer and was so close I could feel the temperature rise. It was like that moment on the park bench. I leaned forward slightly and kissed her on the lips briefly, eyes closed for just a second before opening them to look at her.
Whimsical. My heart did double somersaults, and I don’t think it was meant to.
“Perhaps not then. I think in a very small space of time, I’ve developed feelings for you.”
“I feel it too. That’s why I want you for the job. We’re going undercover as husband and wife, and it has to look real. I knew from that moment on the park bench you were the one. And you are going to have to compartmentalise those feelings. Think you can?”
“Of course. It’s the nature of the job. I’ll be ready.”
“Excellent. Change of plans. I want to know everything about you so I’m staying. And I’ll tell you everything about me. Let’s see where this goes.”
I would tell you how that went, but that’s another story!
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
…
Even now, I still believe he is here with us, in spirit, though sometimes I swear I hear him coming down the passage, or is sitting on the floor, behind me in the office, waiting to hear the next piece of writing and offer his often sage comments.
But, no. When I turn around he’s not there, and I stop, for a moment or two, and remember.
…
This was Chester.
For a few days, we have been monitoring Chester.
He hasn’t been talkative, in fact, I have been mistaking his usual taciturn nature in the mornings for what it really was.
A total lack of interest in anything.
He did not come down in the morning. OK, so, sometimes he cracks a hissy fit and totally ignores me.
But, this is different.
After a few days, he returns and gives me the benefit of his wisdom.
Today, he hasn’t shown up at all, so I went looking for him.
He was in his usual hiding spot, lying down. I give him a pat, he opens his eyes and looks at me. This is a cat who is not well.
I pick him up, and there’s no immediate fight back. He doesn’t normally like to be carried anywhere. Today, he’s putty in my hands.
I call the vet. She can fit him in now if I run. I’m running.
He goes into his carry basket without a fight. OK, now I know something is definitely wrong.
There’s not a sound between home and the clinic. Usually, he screams the place down, trying to get him into the carrier, and then makes as much noise as possible when driving.
Today there is nothing, not even a whimper.
The vet comes out. She has been seeing him for the last ten years and they are well acquainted.
We see her every six months. Without fail, for shots and stuff.
I take him out of the carrier and he lies down on the metal bench.
She looks at him, then picks him up.
She weighs him.
He’s lost two kilos, and that’s a lot for a cat.
I can see it’s bad news.
It is.
He’s 19 years old, long past the average life expectancy.
To keep him alive now would be inhumane. He has, apparently, reached the end of his life, and has lost the desire to eat or to do anything. There was nothing I could have done to prevent it.
She says, it just happens.
It will be quick and it will be painless.
I can see in his eyes that it’s what he wants.
I said goodbye, went outside and sat in the car, and cried.
There’s going to be a lot more tears before this day is out.
I’m back home and this story has been sitting on the back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.
The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.
But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.
Chasing leads, maybe
Needing to know more about Severin, aka David Westcott trumped talking to Jan. As it stood, it was difficult to know where her allegiances lay, with Dobbin, her handler, or someone else.
I hailed a cab and headed back to the office. I wanted to spend some time on the computer, hoping I had enough clearance to poke around in the departmental records, in particular personnel.
Just as the taxi dropped me outside the anonymous sandstone building, my phone rang. I doubt it would be Severin again.
“Where are you?”
Jan.
“I do actually have a life, despite what you or Dobbin might think. I’m not sure I really want to have anything to do with you after what I saw you people do to Maury. Aside from the fact that you told me he had found the tracker and disposed of it. Once you start telling lies, there’s no going back.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“You were holding him for the interrogation squad. That makes you complicit. It also makes me very wary about what Dobbin will do to me if he thinks I know anything, which I don’t.”
“As far as I’m aware, all we have to do is find O’Connell.”
“And what? Torture him too if he doesn’t fess up? I know he doesn’t have it. I had him under surveillance the whole time. I frisked him after he was shot. What do you know that I don’t?”
“No more than you.”
“Not if you’re suggesting that he’s alive.” This was an interesting conversation, especially after O’Connell himself told me that Dobbin’s cleaners had come and rescued him, which meant Dobbin definitely knew he was still alive.
The question was, how many lies was she going to tell me.
“You know where O’Connell had his real residence. When were you going to share that piece in information?”
Silence, then, “How?”
“I saw you there.”
“But…”
I knew what she was going to say, when was I going to share. When I came back, not intending to find a dead body in the hotel room.
“Had you been in the room when I got back, we were going to have a frank conversation about who you’re working for, but I’ve just had that conversation with Dobbin himself. No doubt he called you right after he dropped me off.
“He’s not happy.”
“Then that’s on him not trusting people. You want to have a good hard look at what your options are when we next meet. I’ll admit I haven’t been doing this very long, but one thing I have learned, is not to trust anyone.
“I suggest we meet up later tonight. Bear in mind that it will be in an open space for obvious reasons, and quite frankly, I’m not sure how Dobbin thinks this collaboration is going to work. I’ll text you the place and time.”
It might have been a little unfair to take my concerns about Dobbin out on her. I’m not sure what I had expected would happen when I took this job on, certainly, the instructors had emphasized that being an agent was very dangerous to our health and that we could, ultimately, trust no one, even those closest to us. Our world by its very nature was one of mistrust, lies, and deceit, that we would eventually not know who we really were and be doing things we never thought we could.
O’Connell was in the same situation, most likely because people were trying to kill him. It was a small detail that stuck in the back of my mind.
If Severin and Maury wanted O’Connell alive, and that definitely was the end result of the surveillance operation, to allow the drop then to corral him, why would they have sanctioned his execution in the alley?
In fact, how could they know he would end up in that alley.
The only conclusion I could come up with, Dobbin had put a tracker on him, one that he didn’t know about, and also had surveillance on O’Connell. It made sense because I was sure there were people in that area that didn’t look like they belonged.
So, a tracker on the USB was being tacked by an unidentified as yet party who no doubt wanted the information themselves, not Severin, and not Dobbin.
I shrugged. I’m sure there would be more questions before the day was out.
This book has finally reached the Final Editor’s draft, so this month it is going to get the last revision, and a reread for the beta readers.
…
There’s nothing like having a travel agent on hand when you need to make some urgent bookings because your travel arrangements have gone up in smoke.
Anyone else would have had the devil’s own job sorting out their travel arrangements.
And, yes, Maryanne is coming along for the ride. Is she feeling obligated to look after him, or is there some other reason? As yet, it’s not clear.
But it’s a day of planes, trains and automobiles, attempts to locate his mother so he can find out more about what’s going on, and then get home where it may, or may not be, safe.
So much for having a holiday.
So much for going to his first conference. There’s going to be some explaining to the head agent.
It seems that this novel, going on the amount of writing so far, is going to be bigger than 50,000 words, at the halfway mark, or near enough, I’m at 35,000 words, give or take, which indicates a story of 70,000 words.
We will have to wait and see what happens. I have more planning to do.
To start with, we first joined this tour at stop number 6.
We had to find it first and that meant some pedestrian navigation, which took us first to the City Hall, a rather imposing structure, which we found later had a profound effect on Philadelphia sports teams.
According to the map, stop number 6 is Reading Terminal Market, Convention Centre, on 12th street on Filbert. This was where we bought the tickets and boarded the bus that had a rather interesting guide aboard.
His favorite says was “And we’re good to go.”
Soon we would discover that his commentary was more orientated towards a younger audience, not that it bothered us.
Given the time restraints, we had, this was always going to be about looking and learning.
Stop number 7
City hall, Love Park.
This we had seen on our walk from where we left the car at the Free Library, near the Swann Memorial Fountain in Logan Park, the landmark that Rebecca had remembered from her last visit to Philadelphia. Of course, then, it was not quite so frozen.
Love park, of course, was only notable to us in that it had a sculpture in place with the word Love rather stylized. Apart from that, you’d hardly know it as a park
The city hall, well, that was something else, and when we looked at it, before going on the tour, it was a rather magnificent stone edifice.
After, well the guide filled us in, tallest building, highest and largest monument on William Penn, you get the gist. 37 feet tall, when eclipsed, the Philly sports teams all suffered slumps of one kind or another, until the problem was rectified. Interesting story.
Stop number 8
18th Street and the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, or Logan Circle
This is the location of the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul. A place where the Pope decided to give an audience and sent the city into a spin.
The same church has very high windows for the reason in the early days there was a problem with people wanting to throw Molotov cocktails through the windows. A bit hard when they’re so high up.
Benjamin Franklin Parkway, of course, is interesting in itself as an avenue, not only for all of the flags of many nations of those who chose to live in Philadelphia. We found ours, the one for Australia
This was also the stop where we needed to get off once the tour was finished, and time to head to the car, and go home, but that’s another story.
Stop number 10
Is that the stature of the Thinker, made famous, at least for me, from the old Dobie Gillis episodes, of God knows how many years ago?
Or, maybe it’s just the Rodin Museum on Benjamin Franklin Parkway.
There’s a whole story to go with that Statue and the fact it is one of many all over the world.
This one was made in France, cast in 1919 in Bronze, and is approximately 200cm x 130 cm by 140cm.
Stop number 11
Eastern State Penitentiary. NW corner of 22nd Street and Fairmont Avenue.
This had a rather interesting story attached to it and had something to do with ghosts, but I wasn’t listening properly to the guide’s monologue.
But, later research shows, the fact it was once the most famous and expensive prison in the world. Many also think it is haunted and is a favorite for visiting paranormal visitors.
Built around 1829, it was the first prison to have separate cells for prisoners. It held, at various times, the likes of Al Capone and Willie Sutt
Stop number 18
The Philadelphia Museum of art, where we stop for a few minutes and look at the steps which were immortalized in the movie Rocky, yes he ran god knows how far to end up on the top of these steps.
Sorry, but I’m not that fit that I would attempt walking up them. The view is just fine from inside the bus. Of course, they might consider cleaning the windows a little so the view was clearer, but because it’s basically Perspex and scratched so that might not be possible.
Stop number 17
Back at Logan Circle, or Square if you prefer, but on the other side, closer to the Franklin Institute. Benjamin Franklin’s name is used a lot in this city.
After that, it’s a blur, the Academy of Music, the University of the Arts, Pennsylvania Hospital, South Street, Vietnam Veterans Memorial, the USS Olympia, Penn’s Landing, and past the National Liberty Museum. I’m sure somewhere in that blur was the intention of seeing the Liberty Bell, but I think I heard that it was not on show, and only a replica could be seen.
So much for the getting as an opportunity to see the real liberty bell, crack and all..
We get off and stop number 27, or Number 1, I was not quite sure.
What were we after? The definitive Philly Cheese Steak.
A dreaded visit to the boarding school to see the twins, her children being looked after until he arrived to collect them, brought back a whole raft of memories of his time at school, and not in a good way.
Resentful, sullen, definitely the result of substance abuse, and a whole lot of those issues, they instantly dislike, and disbelieve he’s their father, not that it matters, he had the documentary proof.
Agatha’s assessment of the headmaster was spot on, a man who would exploit the plight of a family to extract a sizable donation to forget anything that might be detrimental to the school and the family. It was the nature of business where the rich were concerned.
Michael was annoyed that it hadn’t taken very long before he slipped into her murky world.
That old expression ‘give them an inch and they’ll take a mile’ comes home to roost, and he is led on a brief odyssey before the children’s solution is found. A month in a new type of detox was going to be the first stage of their rehabilitation.
There was something about this one that resonated with me.
This is a novel about a world generally ruled by perception, and how people perceive what they see, what they are told, and what they want to believe.
I’ve been guilty of it myself as I’m sure we all have at one time or another.
For the main characters Harry and Alison there are other issues driving their relationship.
For Alison, it is a loss of self-worth through losing her job and from losing her mother and, in a sense, her sister.
For Harry, it is the fact he has a beautiful and desirable wife, and his belief she is the object of other men’s desires, and one in particular, his immediate superior.
Between observation, the less than honest motives of his friends, a lot of jumping to conclusions based on very little fact, and you have the basis of one very interesting story.
When it all comes to a head, Alison finds herself in a desperate situation, she realises only the truth will save their marriage.
But is it all the truth?
What would we do in similar circumstances?
Rarely does a book have me so enthralled that I could not put it down until I knew the result. They might be considered two people who should have known better, but as is often the case, they had to get past what they both thought was the truth.
And the moral of this story, if it could be said there is one, nothing is ever what it seems.
That meant we had to make the journey from New York to New Jersey, by train. It involved the underground, or as New Yorkers call it, the subway, from Columbus Circle which by any other name was really, 80th street, to 34th street which apparently was the New Jersey jump-off point for us to get overground, well a lot of it was overground. So, were we going uptown or downtown?
Apparently, it was downtown, and to 34th Street on the A train.
You would not think this to be a difficult task, but for people not used to the subway, and where they were going other than some internet derived instructions, but without the help of a man at the station, just getting tickets may have stopped us dead in our tracks. With his help, we determined the return fare for three of us and then get through the turnstile onto the platform.
We get on the A train, but soon discover it was not stopping at all stations. There was for a few minutes, a little apprehension we might just simply bypass our station. Luckily we did not.
Now, finding your way to the New Jersey transit part of Penn station might appear to be easy, on paper, but once there, on the ground, and mingling with the other passengers which all seemed to be purpose going somewhere, it took a few moments to realize we had to follow the New Jersey transit signs.
This led to a booking hall where luckily we realized we needed to buy more tickets, then find the appropriate platform, and then get on the right train, all of which, in the end, was not difficult at all.
Maybe on the return trip, it might be.
At Newark Penn station it was momentarily confusing because the exit was not readily in sight, so it was a case of following the majority of other passengers who’d got off the train.
This led us to exit onto the street under the train tracks. Luckily, having been before to Prudential Stadium to buy the tickets, we knew what the stadium looked like and roughly where it was, so it was a simple task to walk towards it.
We were early, so it was a case of finding a restaurant to get dinner before the game. So was a great many others, and we passed about 6 different restaurants that looked full to overflowing before we stopped at one called Novelty Burger and Bar.
It looked inviting, and it was not crowded.
It was yet another excuse to have a hamburger and beer, both of which seemed to be a specialty in American. I could not fault either.
And soon after we arrived, this restaurant too was full to overflowing. Thankfully there were other Maple Leaf fans there because being in a room full of opposition teams supports can be quite harrowing.
That was yet to come when we finally got to the stadium. I was not expecting a lot of Maple Leaf fans.
We went to this game with high hopes. New Jersey Devils were not exactly at the top of the leader board, and coming off the loss in Toronto, this was make or break for whether we would ever go to another game.
It’s remarkable in that all the Ice Hockey stadiums are the same. Everyone has an excellent view of the game, the sound systems are loud, and the fans passionate. Here it seems to be a thing to ride on the Zambonis.
At the front door they were handing out figurines of a Devil’s past player, and it seems a thing that you get a handout of some sort at each game. At Toronto we got towels. And, finally, we were in luck
The Maple Leafs won.
And it was an odd feeling to know that even though their team lost, there did not seem to be any rancor amount the fans and that any expectation of being assaulted by losing fans was totally unfounded, unlike some sporting events I’ve been to.
Perhaps soccer should take a leaf out of the ice hockey playbook.
That also went for taking public transport late at night. I did not have any fears about doing so, which is more than I can say about traveling at night on our own transport system back home.
Oh, and by the way, there are train conductors who still come to every passenger to collect or stamp their tickets. No trusting the passenger has paid for his trip here. And, if you don’t have a ticket, I have it on good authority they throw you off the train and into the swamp. Good thing then, we had tickets.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 