Firstly, of course, means definitely so, and can be said when a revelation is realised, or sarcastically if the answer is obvious.
Then there’s a course, like a golf course where people chase a small usually white ball, sometimes to be found on a fairway, but more often than not in a bunker, in the water, or in the thicket.
It’s meant to be calming, but I’m betting more than one heart attack has been brought on by a slice, a six shot bunker exit, or any more than three putts on the green.
There’s also mini golf courses, less challenging, sometimes.
That course could also be the part of a creek or a river.
It can be a set of classes that makes up a course, I did a course in English literature
Then, rather topically, over the course of the election there was [you fill in the rest]
Then there’s my favourite, a four course dinner
Or when I’m unwell a course of antibiotics.
And lastly, in a supermarket how often does the trolley in front of you unexpectedly and randomly change course?
This is not to be confused with coarse
Which to be honest can be used sometimes to describe people who swear or are abrupt. They were coarse people, that is unrefined. These people often use coarse language and tell course jokes, meaning crude and offensive
It had a coarse texture, ie it was rough not smooth
And then there’s Corse which is not exactly an English word, but can refer to a corpse or dead body.
It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you.
John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.
So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?
That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.
What should have been solace after disappointment, turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.
He suddenly realizes his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.
The story paints the characters cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice where, in those back streets I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.
All in all a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.
I stood on the edge of the cliff and took in the view, which on any given day could be either magnificent or the equivalent of Dante’s inferno.
Today, while being majestic, it was also like being in hell.
It was day 37. I didn’t think I’d last the first week, yet here I was, having survived the worst that could be thrown at me. I was one of six out of the original intake of fifty.
People who were stronger than me, smarter than me, better educated, better physically, full of confidence, and some full of themselves, unexpectedly failed. As they fell, one by one, all shocked at being cut, and as each day passed, I was always last to go look at the list of survivors.
Every time I expected to see my name and surprised, like many others, that I was not on the list.
They wanted four, there were six of us left. The odds were not good, not after one of the instructors told me I had to up my game, that I’d barely made the last cut.
“Hell is on earth they said,” a voice in my head, or…
I turned, Kerrilyn O’Connor.
She was my choice to succeed. I selected her on day one as the most likely to succeed. She looked ordinary, but under that banal exterior was the fire and brimstone, the guts and determination needed to succeed.
“Been there already, and compared to this place, it was like Shangri-La. No, it’s what you make it. I came with no expectations, I’ll leave with no regrets.”
“You sound like you’ve given up?”
“I’ve been paired with Wally in the final test. We’re the two bottom candidates, and I suspect they want us to fail.”
She smiled. It was an ongoing subject of discussion, how Wally made it past day one, let alone to the final six. Popular belief was that he was related to some director. Yes, that was how bad he was.
“You haven’t been to the notice board, have you?”
“Is there any reason to? I was told yesterday what my fate would be.”
“Then I suggest you pay a visit. You might be surprised. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
There might have been more, but relationships with other candidates were strictly forbidden. It still didn’t stop the more adventurous from trying, and over the weeks, I guess some didn’t handle the isolation very well, nor the penalty for breaking the rules.
An island you couldn’t get off. Fifty candidates and twenty staff, and a very long swim if you wanted to escape. The only communication was a boat, every night at six, to take away the candidates who failed.
Kerrilyn and I had an on-off thing, and if it happened, it happened. Other than that, I was under no illusion it was anything other than dalliance. Once she became an agent, there would be no room in her life for relationships. Mine, either if I managed to get through.
I wasn’t going to look, but something dragged me to the noticeboard, perhaps an unconscious death wish. It explained the odd look on her face when she said I should. The pairings had changed, and now I was with her.
I shrugged. I just hoped I didn’t drag her down with me.
Sitting in the briefing room, once bustling with a lot of eagerness, some over-eager recruits, waiting to learn what the task was for the day or days, there was only silence. It was not a companionable one. If anyone could read our minds, it would be to learn that we were taking a good, long, hard look at our competition and going over their strengths and weaknesses. We all knew this was it, the end of the line. Fail this, and you were out
We had been paired with all of them several times, times we had been told if we cared to listen, to learn everything we needed to know about them because one day we would be pitted against each other.
Today was the time to put what we learned from the instructors and what learned about each other into practice.
Three days. It was going to be the longest test we had participated in. We would be taken to different parts of the island, and working as a team, we had to capture the other two teams. By any and all means at our disposal.
One pair would be safe if they fulfilled mission parameters. It was a big island, and there was not a lot of time, as we were told; in real life, the time we had now was a luxury.
No one asked what would happen if no one succeeded.
We were blindfolded and given noise-cancelling headphones, so trying to determine where we were being taken was almost impossible.
The helicopter landed and we were hustled out, the camp commander jumping out too. He went with us to the point beyond the rotating propeller, the stop being brief. We didn’t know if we were first, or last.
He pointed in a particular direction and then had to yell to be heard about the helicopter’s engine. “One mile in that direction.”
“What’s there?” I asked.
“A boat. You get on it and don’t look back.”
“Have we washed out, sir?” Kerrilyn knew the value of respect, unlike some of the others.
“No. You two are the best recruits we’ve had in years. The assessment is that you’re ready, so we’re giving you a fortnight to get over whatever it is you’re doing and report to GHQ at 06:00 on the 21st. Congratulations.”
He shook each of our hands and then went back to the helicopter. A minute later it was lifting off, and after three more, it was gone.
I looked at her. “What was that about?”
“You don’t believe him?”
“That we’re the best, yes, that we’re leaving this place, no.”
“A test?”
“After 38 days I think you have the same deep-seated distrust of anyone on this island. What was the first lesson we learned?”
“Trust no one, and let your paranoia guide you. He said gut, but to me, it could only be one thing. The might be a boat waiting, but we have to get to it first, and I suspect four very willing candidates will do nothing to stop us.”
“That’s a bit cynical. Why?”
“Because they can’t make up their minds who the other two are, and they’ve left it for us.”
She shrugged. In time she’d come around. in the meantime, we had a boat to find. “OK.”
Before we’d taken three steps, four bullets had thwacked into trees near us. It was clear they’d dropped the other four near our location, and, interesting development, they were using live ammunition. Clearly, this was a do-or-die mission, a true simulation of what it was like in the field.
“Bastard,” she muttered. “But if that’s the way they want to play it, it’s game on.”
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…
This is Chester.
We’re having an interesting time in the quest for self-isolation.
It seems he doesn’t like the idea that we are still going out, and coming back, potentially bringing the virus back.
This, of course, despite the fact that there are no confirmed cases of the virus attacking cats.
That doesn’t mean that Chester might be the first cat that does.
Out of curiosity, and perhaps against my better judgment, I have to ask what his reasoning is.
Old age, he says. If you are telling me the truth then I’m about 18 cat years old, which means it’s about 126 of your years.
I can see where this is going. It’s my fault because I’ve left the running count of Coronavirus patients worldwide on one of my computer screens.
As of this morning, there are 393,000 cases worldwide. He was sitting next to me when I was looking at the statistical data on the various ages and pre-existing conditions.
For him, apparently, there was only one statistic that mattered. Anyone over 90 in human years had little chance of surviving.
I reiterate the virus doesn’t attack cats.
I also tell him that I have no intention of getting the virus. But it raises a point I hadn’t considered.
Going out anywhere always has a risk, whether to the supermarket or the pharmacy which are basically the only places I go. Then there is the situation of my wife, who is still working and has to go to work. That is a bigger risk considering one of the staff will be coming back from overseas.
How successful the self-isolation rule is, and whether everyone complies, is a matter of conjecture, and one has to wonder if 14 days in isolation is long enough.
Chester has raised a legitimate point, not necessarily in relation to himself.
Perhaps he might be worried about us.
And if that is the case, will the specter of this virus finally become the catalyst for a change in the relationship between cats and people, where they might realize we are more important to them than they currently believe.
I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a 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
…
Darkness fell in a noticeably short time, and we left the pub at about six. In the hour so we have been there I’d been keeping a close eye on the comings and goings, and in particular, if O’Connell came in, or someone else that might look like him.
He hadn’t, nor had any mythical family members. Well, it had been a long shot.
Jennifer hadn’t volunteered anything more to the conversation and sat working her way through a piece of fried fish and a bowl of chips. Neither had looked appetizing. I would have bet she’d have the chicken, but I was wrong, and probably it wasn’t going to be the first time.
“Do you have a gun?”
It was after ten minutes of silence. It worried me that she didn’t ask how far it was or how long it would take. And then, out of nowhere, the gun question.
“No. Why would I have a gun.?”
“We were issued with weapons. I still have mine.”
“Did you bring it with you?”
“No. Like I told you, I didn’t think I was still working for the Department. They didn’t ask for it back, so I didn’t give it to them.”
“Or the identities?”
“No. It was odd though; they didn’t ask about them either.”
“Maybe they were going to wait a while and then ask you back.”
This was a weird conversation to be having. By this time we were in Peaslake Lane, and not far from the house I pulled over to the side of the road, under a tree.
The houses were set back in a rural setting. Between the darkness and the undergrowth, the chances were we could get to the house without being seen. From where I was sitting, no windows or doors were visible.
I made sure the car’s internal light didn’t go on the moment the door was open.
“Are you bringing your cell phone?”
“Why. I’m not envisaging having to call anyone, nor am I expecting a call.”
I shrugged, and slipped mine into a pocket where I could easily reach it I needed to.
I got out of the car, and she followed. She left he bag in the car. The first sign of training kicking in; eave all un-necessary baggage behind. Perhaps having a gun might have been a good option if we ran into trouble.
Oddly enough, now that I thought about it, Monica hadn’t asked for mine back either, but it was sitting at home in a safe, along with the five other identities Severin had issued each of us with.
I locked the car, equally as silent and invisible as she joined me.
“Which house?”
“Three along. Follow me and keep your eyes and ears peeled.”
I didn’t have to tell her, but it didn’t hurt to emphasize the importance of stealth. There were people home in other houses, lights in windows just discernible through the trees, one house a window without a curtain, a view into the dining room, but there was no one at the table.
If we were visiting them, perhaps we’d be in time for dinner.
The house we were looking for was in darkness from our approach.
“You keep an eye open this side, and I’ll go around the other, then come back. I’ll see if there’s an easy entry point.”
“What if someone is home?”
“Doesn’t look like it from here, and I’ll be surprised if there is.”
A moment later she had disappeared into the shrub line and I was heading across the front of the house, heading for the other side. I kept well away from the front door, just in case there was a motion light, or worse, a motion detector that might set off a silent alarm.
But, that might already have happened, and if it had, no one had made a move inside.
Down the side was walls and windows, no doors or French doors leading out into the garden. None of the windows were at a decent height for us to clamber through, and if we had to, it was going to be difficult.
I continued on, around the back, where there was more success. French doors leading onto a patio, and then the lawn. In the corner was a greenhouse, and next to that a rose garden. Or at least that was what both looked like in the dark.
The moon, for the moment, was hidden by dark clouds.
Perhaps it would rain, though it had not been in the forecast, but, this was England, and it could rain at any time, especially when you didn’t want or need it. There was no light, or motion sensor over the French doors, so I crossed the patio and looked through the doors.
I had expected curtains, but these hadn’t been completely drawn. No large light or lamp on, but there were indicator lights, several red and one a particularly bright blue, casting a rather long shadow over furniture and what looked to be a carpet square.
Out of curiosity, I tried the door.
It was open.
Then I had the blind panic moment of thinking it might be alarmed.
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.
…
What would you do if you were mistaken for someone else?
What if when you answer a knock on the door to your hotel room, and the police crash their way in with bullets flying everywhere in a show of unnecessary force.
Of course, the police don’t know you are not the criminal, and facing a possible disaster, do what they have to, to apprehend the man they believe is a murderer.
Our main character now has time to contemplate the ramifications of what just happened in hospital. So much for attending the conference.
Of course, he has other things to think about, the self-confessed gate crasher Maryanne. The adage, if something is too good to be true, it generally is.
Looking forward, there’s some plotting to do.
How can it be possible that our main character has a doppelganger? At the moment it’s just a case of someone who looks like him, and the police have ruled him out as the man they’re looking for.
It’s a story that’s going to play out in a few chapters’ time.
On this occasion, we drove from Florence to Innsbruck, a journey of about 500 kilometers and via the E45, a trip that would take us about five and a half hours.
We drove conservatively, stopped once for lunch and took about seven hours, arriving in Innsbruck late in the afternoon
The main reason for this stay was to go to Swarovski in Wattens for the second time, to see if anything had changed, and to buy some pieces. We were still members of the club, and looking forward to a visit to the exclusive lounge and some Austrian champagne.
Sadly, there were no new surprises waiting, and we came away a little disappointed.
We were staying at the Innsbruck Hilton, where we stayed the last time, and it only a short walk to the old town.
From the highest level of the hotel, it is possible to get a look at the mountains that surround the city. This view is in the direction we had driven earlier, from Florence.
The change in the weather was noticeable the moment we entered the mountain ranges.
This view looks towards the old town and overlooks a public square.
This view shows some signs of the cold, but in summer, I doubted we were going to see any snow.
We have been here in winter, and it is quite cold, and there is a lot of snow. The ski resorts are not very far away, and the airport is on the way to Salzburg.
There is a host of restaurants in the old town, and we tried a few during our stay. The food, beer, and service were excellent.
On a previous visit, we did get Swiss Army Knives, literally, from a small store called Victorinox.
Part one sets the scene, we are introduced to the characters, and we get some insight into the machinations of business and the underlying problem of Agatha’s health.
It could be for any number of reasons, hard living when younger, and a little bit older too, it could be the pressures of work, the pressures of motherhood, trying to find the right man knowing he doesn’t exist and worry about people trying to take your money.
Being titled and wealthy is not a benefit, it’s really a curse. It often works to her advantage, but in others, well, it just doesn’t.
Her health issues have so far been undiagnosed. She has seen any number of doctors, and none can find what is wrong. Lethargy, constantly tired, often feeling nauseated, always at the mercy of common colds and viruses, the notion of taking a few months off to try and recover is not an option.
The thing is, the answer to her problems, getting qualified people to run her organisation was a good idea, and she thought she had picked the right people. And once they start, the subtle changes begin, the little things like being left out of the loop, that sense that she is being spied on, paranoia fed by the illness, and observation, cause her to become unpredictable, then, at the height of it, after discovering what is a revelation, she is incapacitated.
In a sense, she had planned for just such an eventuality, in another, it was almost inevitable.
John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and 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 favour 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 ‘favour’ 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’.
We were in London in Summer, it was a fine afternoon, going into the evening and we decided to get on the London Eye. As you can see from the clock it was near 7:00 pm.
This photo was taken as we were coming down.
Those long evenings were quite remarkable, not in the least going to a pub and sinking a few pints! There was one such pub not far from Charing Cross Station
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 