A photograph from the inspirational bin – 4

This is

A rainy day.

Not much of a revelation when it’s winter, but why is it when you have to go somewhere in a hurry, the universe knows, and tries to throw everything at you so you don’t get there on time?

I like to be punctual.

I’m one of those people who leave home to get to the airport hours before I have to because I know, from past experience, that if you leave at the time where you’d make it with an hour to spare, you would get stuck in the mother of all traffic jams.

I know this to be true.  It’s happened more than once to me,

If you’re not in a hurry, you get the best run you’ve ever had.  I know that’s true too, because that’s what happens most times.

It’s like when at work you’re in a hurry to get a photocopy.  The machine knows if you’re stressed and picks that particular moment to break down.  That use to happen to me more times that I’d had hot dinners.

Sorry, I needed to use that expression, which generally means a lot.  That photocopy machine, back in the days when they were huge and almost a new fad, my task every Tuesday was to copy a 3 page shipping report, 300 odd times.  Not once did I get a clean run, not in the two years it was my job.

But…

Back to the weather.

My day to pick up one of the grandchildren from the railway station.  It’s not far from our house, on any other day it would take about ten minutes, but since this is after 3 pm, I have the other school traffic to contend with, the tradies going home, and late afternoon shoppers getting dinner.

It never used to be like that.  The road was a single lane that used to be blocked by floods when it rained, there was no shopping centre, and no new estates.  In 30 years everything has arrived, the road expanded to two lanes either side, and almost continual traffic jams.

There’s a story there somewhere, but for the moment I have to take on the traffic.  Maybe once I get to the station I might have time to consider it.

What I learned about writing – A writer isn’t just a writer

Is he, or she?

No, we have any number of other functions, so the notion that we can sit down all day, every day and just write is a misnomer.

I know for a fact I can’t.

I have jobs to do around the house, and therein lies the problem.

I sit down, once the jobs for that part of the day are done, and fire up the computer, or sometimes sharpen the pencils.

Then, free to write, it’s like starting the lawnmower, wait till it settles into a steady rhythm, and then, as you begin to mow the lawn, it runs out of petrol.

Yes, that’s happened to me a few times and only goes to highlight the other problems.

When you have to do something else, your mind is happily working on the book, story, article, piece, or whatever, and then, when you sit down, your mind is on the next lot of chores.

Only the most disciplined mind can separate the two so that each allotted time is allotted to the task.

Me, I suck at that.

Like now.  I want to get on with one of my longer stories, and my mind is telling me I have to write a blog post.

So, I’m writing the blog post.

I know that tomorrow I’m not going to get much writing time because the grandchildren are over for a mini stay, and we’re going to see Doolittle.

But can I get it done now?

No.  In the background, the Australia vs India one-day cricket match is murmuring, and we’re not doing so good.  It’s a necessary distraction, but I still haven’t learned to multitask.

Perhaps it’s too late for that.

Anyway, I have to go.  We just got a wicket, and the tide is turning.

I hope!

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 268

Day 268 – Getting Feedback

…

The Praise and the Perils of Feedback: Why Loving the Applause Can Be Just as Dangerous as Fearing the Critique

There is nothing quite like the dopamine hit of hearing, “That was incredible!”

Whether you’re a writer, a designer, a coder, an entrepreneur, or just someone who poured their heart into a project, praise feels like validation. It tells you that your efforts mattered, that your voice was heard, and that you are on the right track.

Conversely, hearing that your work misses the mark—or worse, is actively bad—hits like a physical blow. The stomach drops, the defensive walls go up, and the inner critic starts whispering, “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

As professionals and creators, we spend a lot of time learning how to handle harsh criticism. We read books on thick skin, take courses on emotional resilience, and tell ourselves not to take things personally. But here’s the uncomfortable truth we rarely talk about: While negative feedback can crush your spirit, unearned or unexamined praise can quietly destroy your craft.

Welcome to the complex, psychological tightrope walk of professional feedback. Let’s explore the praise, the perils, and how to survive both.


The Sweet Trap of Praise

Let’s start with the good stuff. Praise is wonderful. It fuels us, builds confidence, and makes the late nights and gruelling revisions worth it.

However, praise carries a hidden hazard: complacency.

When people love your work, the temptation is to sit back and bask in the glow of approval. But in creative and professional spaces, comfort is the enemy of growth. When you believe you’ve created a masterpiece, you stop questioning your process. You stop looking for the flaws.

Worse yet, constant praise can lead to the “Pleaser’s Dilemma.” If you become addicted to the high of being told your work is amazing, you may unconsciously start tailoring your future projects to keep people happy. You begin making safe, predictable choices that guarantee applause, rather than taking the risky, innovative leaps that lead to true mastery.

The Peril of Praise: It tells you who you were yesterday, not who you could be tomorrow.


The Bitter Pill of Criticism

On the other end of the spectrum is negative feedback. Nobody enjoys being told their baby is ugly. When someone looks at something you’ve bled over and picks it apart, the natural biological response is fight-or-flight.

Yet, as we all know intellectually, criticism is often where the magic happens. A sharp critique acts like an X-ray machine; it exposes the structural weaknesses you were too close to see. It forces you to defend your choices, rethink your logic, and ultimately elevate your work.

However, criticism has its own set of perils, primarily noise pollution.

Not all criticism is created equal. Some negative feedback comes from a place of genuine expertise and a desire to help. But a lot of it stems from personal bias, misunderstanding, or a simple mismatch in taste. If you take every piece of negative feedback to heart, you risk “designing by committee”—twisting your work into a fragmented, unrecognisable mess trying to please every dissenting voice.

The Peril of Criticism: It can paralyse you, derail your vision, and make you abandon a great idea just because one person didn’t get it.


How to Navigate the Feedback Loop

So, how do we survive the intoxicating rush of praise and the stinging blow of critique without losing our minds—or our creative integrity?

Here are four rules for mastering the feedback loop:

1. Vet Your Sources

Not all opinions carry the same weight. Before you let praise inflate your ego or criticism break your heart, ask yourself: Does this person actually understand my goals? Do they have expertise in this domain?

  • A standing ovation from your mom is sweet, but it won’t help you improve your professional output.
  • A harsh critique from a bitter internet stranger isn’t worth losing sleep over. Curate a small “board of directors”—trusted peers, mentors, or editors whose taste you respect—and prioritize their voices above all others.

2. Separate Your Identity from Your Output

This is the holy grail of professional resilience. When someone says, “This report is confusing,” they are not saying, “You are an unintelligent person.” When you tie your self-worth to your work, praise becomes an addiction and criticism becomes an existential threat. Practice viewing your work as a separate entity—something you built, crafted, and put out into the world, but not the sum total of your human value.

3. Look for the Pattern, Not the Incident

If one person tells you your writing is too dense, they might just be having an off day. But if five people tell you your writing is too dense, put your ego in check and pay attention. True feedback is about patterns. When multiple reliable sources point out the same friction point (whether positive or negative), take note. That’s where the real data lives.

4. Stay Hungry (Even When You’re Great)

When you receive glowing praise, accept it gracefully, say thank you, and immediately ask yourself: How can I push this further? What’s the next level? Don’t let the applause drown out your internal drive for curiosity and improvement.


The Bottom Line

Getting feedback is an inescapable part of putting your work into the world. It’s wonderful when people love what you do, and it stings when they don’t.

Ultimately, both praise and critique are just data points. Praise tells you what resonated; criticism tells you where the friction is. Your job isn’t to chase the applause or run from the jeers—it’s to listen objectively, take what serves you, leave the rest behind, and keep creating.

…

If I only had one day to stop over in – Lucerne – what would I do?

One Day in Lucerne? Make It Unforgettable with a Visit to the Chapel Bridge & Water Tower

If you’ve ever found yourself with a 24‑hour layover in a Swiss city, you know the clock is ticking, the luggage is heavy, and the desire to soak up something truly Swiss is overwhelming. In Lucerne—nestled on the shores of Lake Luzern and framed by the jagged peaks of the Alps—there’s a single landmark that encapsulates the town’s charm, history, and postcard‑perfect beauty all at once: the Chapel Bridge (Kapellbrücke) and its adjoining Water Tower.

What makes this modest wooden structure the must‑see for a one‑day stopover? In the next few paragraphs, I’ll walk you through why the Chapel Bridge deserves the top spot on your Lucerne itinerary, how to experience it like a local, and a few practical tips to squeeze the most out of those precious hours.


1. Why the Chapel Bridge is Lucerne’s Crown Jewel

AspectWhat You’ll SeeWhy It Matters
HistoryBuilt in 1333, it’s the oldest covered wooden bridge in Europe. The interior walls are adorned with 17th‑century paintings depicting pivotal moments in Lucerne’s past.Walking across feels like stepping into a living museum.
SceneryPanoramic views of the Reuss River, the lake, and the snow‑capped peaks of Pilatus and Rigi.A single photo here can sum up the whole Swiss experience.
Photogenic PowerThe bridge’s iconic red‑painted roof, the medieval Water Tower, and the flower‑filled promenade create endless Instagram‑worthy angles.Perfect for travel bloggers, influencers, and anyone who loves a good snapshot.
Cultural HubRight next to the historic Old Town, the bridge is a natural launchpad to explore cobblestone lanes, boutique shops, and traditional cafés.You get a taste of Lucerne’s everyday life without hopping around.

In short, the Chapel Bridge is more than a bridge—it’s a condensed version of Lucerne’s story, geography, and vibe, all packed into a 204‑meter stroll.


2. Making the Most of Your Visit

A. Arrive Early (or Late) to Beat the Crowd

The bridge is a magnet for tourists, especially in summer. Aim to be there first thing in the morning (around 8 am) or after 7 pm during the high season. Early light casts a golden glow over the water, while the evening blue‑hour adds a romantic ambience.

B. Walk the Bridge Slowly, Look Up

  • Paintings: Take 30‑seconds per panel to read the captions (available in English, German, and French).
  • Architecture: Notice the triangular trusses—a brilliant medieval engineering solution that has kept the bridge standing for nearly 700 years.

C. Pop Up to the Water Tower

Climb the 68‑step spiral staircase for a 360° panorama. From the top you’ll see the Jesuit Church, the old city walls, and the lake stretching beyond the town. The view is especially striking when the Alps are dusted with snow.

D. Combine with a Quick Lakeside Walk

When you exit the bridge on the opposite side, you’ll be on the Schnürschlössli (the small promenade along the Reuss). Follow it for a few minutes to reach the Lake Lucerne promenade, where you can:

  • Snap a photo of the Löwendenkmal (Lion Monument)—a short 10‑minute walk away.
  • Grab a coffee at Café du Theatre, a historic spot favoured by locals and artists.

E. Take a Mini‑Cruise (If Time Permits)

If you’ve got an extra hour, hop on a 30‑minute “Lake Lucerne Panorama” boat from the nearby pier. The boat departs right by the bridge and offers the best perspective of the structure from the water. It’s a perfect way to seal the memory before you head back to the airport.


3. Practical Tips for the One‑Day Stopover

TipDetails
TicketingThe bridge itself is free, but the Water Tower’s observation deck costs CHF 5 (adult). Keep a few francs handy.
Luggage StorageLucerne’s Zentraler Bahnhof (central station) offers lockers (CHF 6 per day). Drop your bags and walk light.
TransportFrom Zurich Airport (the most common entry point) take a direct train to Lucerne (≈ 1 h). Trains run every 30 minutes.
Weather PrepSwiss weather can shift fast. Carry a compact rain jacket and a pair of comfortable walking shoes.
DiningFor a quick, authentic bite, try Rösti at Restaurant Zunft (just a stone’s throw from the bridge). It’s a Swiss potato dish that fuels you for the rest of the day.
Time ManagementAllocate 45 minutes to the bridge + water tower, 15 minutes for the lakeside stroll, 30‑45 minutes for a coffee break, and 30 minutes for the mini‑cruise. That leaves you with a comfortable buffer for train travel and any unexpected delays.

4. The Takeaway: One Spot, Infinite Memories

When you have a single day to spend in a city known for its alpine vistas, historic architecture, and lakeside serenity, you need a signature experience that captures it all. The Chapel Bridge does exactly that: it is a historic landmark, a photographic hotspot, a gateway to the Old Town, and a launchpad for a lakeside adventure—all within a ten‑minute walk radius.

So, next time your itinerary shows “Lucerne – 24 hours,” set your compass to the Chapel Bridge and Water Tower. Walk the ancient planks, climb the tower, sip coffee by the water, and let the reflection of the Alps in the Reuss seal your Swiss memory forever.


Ready to make your layover legendary?
Pack a light backpack, hop on the train from Zurich, and let the Chapel Bridge be the heart of your Lucerne story. And when you’re back home, don’t forget to share your photos and tag #LucerneLayover—because every traveler deserves a snapshot of Swiss perfection.

Happy travels!

In a word: Murder

I started off thinking that murder was pretty straight forward, you know, someone pulls out a gun and shoots someone else: murder.  Of course, there are any other means of doing the same crime, by knife, poison, strangulation, or suffocation.

Or, by endless inane conversation.  Much less chance of going to jail with that one.

Its the stuff that keeps crime writers going, fictional detectives detecting and crime scene investigators analysing.

Still the fact someone might be getting away with murder, means they’ve successfully found a way to have their cake and eat it.

Come to think of it how many times have we used that word in vain, like when a child drives you to distraction, red-faced and you say with a great deal of conviction ‘you do that again I’ll murder you’.

Just make sure it doesn’t actually happen, or those words will come back to haunt you.

But this is only one aspect of using the word.

You could, if you want, scream blue murder, which is literally impossible.  In fact, what the does that really mean?

It can also refer to an onerous task or experience, hence the possibility that listening to that discussion about hot water bottles was absolute murder.

For one thing, it probably murdered an hour or two of my time.

It could also describe a comprehensive defeat, that we murdered the other side 86 to nothing.  Come to think of it, I never got to participate in such a game, so that might account for why I’d never heard it used before.

And, lastly…

Did you know it can refer to a flock of a particular type of bird, I think crows.

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

lovecoverfinal1

If I only had one day to stop over in – Valletta – what would I do?

One Day in Valletta? The One Spot That Will Make It Unforgettable


You’ve just landed in Malta’s capital for a 24‑hour lay‑over. The airport shuttle whisks you into the heart of a city that feels like a living museum: baroque façades, limestone streets, and a history that stretches back to the Knights of St. John. With only a single day, the temptation is to try and cram everything—the fortifications, the museums, the seaside cafés—into a frantic sprint.

Spoiler alert: You don’t need to do all of that. One place, perched above the glittering Grand Harbour, captures the soul of Valletta in a single, unforgettable glance.

The Spot: Upper Barrakka Gardens (and the Saluting Battery)

“From here you can see the whole island as if it were a postcard.”
— A seasoned traveller who once walked the same limestone steps.

The Upper Barrakka Gardens are a terraced public garden perched on the highest point of the city’s fortifications. From its neatly trimmed hedges and marble benches you get a 360° panorama of the Grand Harbour—Fort St. Elmo, the massive three‑fort complex of Fort St. Angelo, the sleek yachts of the marina, and the iconic Azure Window silhouette far out on the horizon (even after its collapse, the sea still holds its memory).

Below the gardens sits the Saluting Battery, a set of historic cannons that fire a majestic salute at noon every day (and at sunset on special occasions). The sound reverberates across the water, a dramatic reminder of Valletta’s martial past.

Why This Is the Only Must‑See for a One‑Day Stopover

ReasonWhat It Means for You
Instant ContextThe view instantly tells you why Valletta was a coveted naval base for the Knights, the British, and now the European Union.
Photographic JackpotOne wide‑angle shot from the central terrace captures the whole harbour—perfect for Instagram, postcards, or a memory that lasts a lifetime.
Time‑FriendlyA 30‑minute stroll (plus a quick coffee break) fits neatly into any itinerary, leaving you time for a bite, a museum, or a stroll through the streets.
Free EntryNo ticket queues, no crowds fighting over a museum’s limited capacity—just you, the sea, and a slice of Maltese sky.
Cultural TouchstoneThe noon salute is a living tradition; watching (or hearing) it makes you part of Valletta’s daily rhythm.

Bottom line: If you can see Valletta from the Upper Barrakka Gardens, you’ve essentially seen Valletta.


How to Make the Most of Your 1‑Day Visit

1. Get There Quick‑Style

ModeApprox. TimeCostTips
Public Bus (Routes 13/14/222)15‑20 min from the city gate€2Grab a Tallinja Card for unlimited rides (good if you plan a quick museum visit).
Taxi / Ride‑Hail5‑10 min (traffic permitting)€8‑€12Ask for the driver to drop you at the Upper Barrakka Gate (just off Strait Street).
Walking from the Grand Harbour10 min from the cruise‑ship dockFreeThe promenade is a scenic intro—watch the yachts glide past.

Pro tip: If you land early in the morning, the gardens are serene and the light is perfect for sunrise photography. Arriving by 9 am means you’ll beat the midday crowd and still have time for a leisurely coffee.

2. Time Your Saluting Battery

  • Noon (12:00 PM) – The traditional “Noon Gun” is fired every day. Arrive a few minutes early to snag a good spot on the steps or on the low terrace.
  • Sunset (optional) – On the first Saturday of each month, the battery fires a sunset salute (check the Malta Tourism Authority’s calendar).

If your schedule doesn’t line up with the noon salute, don’t worry— the view is spectacular at any hour. A short wait for the cannon’s echo is still worth the dramatic soundtrack.

3. Pair It With a Quick Bite

  • Café Jubilee (steps down from the garden, on Strait Street) – A historic café that once served British officers. Try the Maltese pastizzi (flaky pastry with ricotta or peas) and a strong Maltese coffee.
  • The Governor’s Palace Café (behind the Upper Barrakka) – Offers a modest terrace with a view of the harbour; ideal for a light lunch of ħobż biż-żejt (Maltese bread with olive oil, tomatoes, and tuna).

Dining tip: Order the Ħobż biż-żejt “to go” and enjoy it on a bench within the gardens for an authentic, on‑the‑go experience.

4. Quick Optional Add‑Ons (If Time Allows)

Add‑OnApprox. TimeWhy It Works
St. John’s Co‑Cathedral45 minHome to Caravaggio’s St. John the Baptist, a masterpiece you can’t see anywhere else.
The Valletta Waterfront (Birgu/Hardwicke)30 minA stroll along the promenade offers a different perspective of the harbour at sea‑level.
The Malta Experience30 minA short audio‑visual show that condenses 700 years of Maltese history—great if you’re a visual learner.

If you decide to squeeze one of these in, keep an eye on the clock—most attractions close by 5 PM in winter and 7 PM in summer.


Insider Hacks: Making a One‑Day Stopover Feel Like a Mini‑Vacation

  1. Dress Light, Carry a Light Jacket – Valletta’s limestone retains heat; mornings can be crisp, evenings breezy.
  2. Buy a Small Bottle of Maltese Water – The tap is safe, but a reusable bottle with a filtered cap keeps you hydrated on the go.
  3. Download the “Malta Public Transport” App – Real‑time bus schedules help you squeeze in that extra museum or shop without guessing wait times.
  4. Use the “Free Wi‑Fi” in the Upper Barrakka Gardens – Malta’s tourism board provides a stable hotspot at the garden’s central bench (just look for the “Visit Malta” sign). Perfect for uploading those new photos.
  5. Respect the “No Smoking” Zones – The gardens are a smoke‑free sanctuary; a polite “thank you” goes a long way with the local guards.

A Day in Review: How It Felt to Stand on the Upper Barrakka

“When the noon cannon boomed and the wind carried the sound across the water, I realized I was standing on a piece of living history. The sight of the three forts guarding the harbour, the modern yachts bobbing beside centuries‑old stone— it was a conversation between past and present that no guidebook could fully capture.”

That’s the magic of the Upper Barrakka Gardens. In less than an hour you get the city’s story, its strategic importance, and its breathtaking beauty—all while sipping a coffee, feeling the Mediterranean breeze, and listening to the echo of cannons that have sounded for over three hundred years.


Quick Reference: Your 24‑Hour Valletta Cheat Sheet

TimeActivityDetails
7:30 AMArrive at Valletta (bus/taxi)Head straight to Upper Barrakka Gardens
8:00 AMSunrise & Photo SessionUse a wide‑angle lens, capture the harbour
9:00 AMCoffee & Pastizzi at Café JubileeQuick bite, soak up the street vibe
10:00 AMOptional: St. John’s Co‑CathedralPre‑book a ticket to avoid lines
12:00 PMNoon Salute at the BatteryArrive early for the best spot
12:30 PMLight Lunch on the Gardens BenchEnjoy Ħobż biż-żejt with a view
1:30 PMStroll Down to Strait StreetExplore local shops, murals
3:00 PMReturn to airport / ferryAllow 30‑45 min for travel and security
4:30 PMFlight onwardWith a pocket full of photos and a memory that lasts a lifetime

Final Thought: One Spot, Infinite Memories

Travel isn’t always about ticking boxes; it’s about feeling the pulse of a place, even if you’re only there for a few hours. The Upper Barrakka Gardens give you that pulse—an elevated, panoramic snapshot of Valletta’s past, present, and future.

So the next time a layover lands you in the heart of the Mediterranean, skip the exhaustive itinerary and head straight to the gardens. Let the sea, the sky, and the echo of historic cannons fill your senses. In that single moment, Valletta will have shared its story with you, and you’ll leave the island with a day that feels more like a lifetime.

Safe travels, and may your next stop be just as unforgettable!

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

…

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaines at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaines frequently visited and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’.  It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over.  It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half-frown, half-smile, Alison was looking stunning.  It had been months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5th anniversary that cost a month’s salary.  On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to.  She had adored it and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars get on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds of silence, and many more gasps.

I even had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room.  Once more, I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me.  Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others out there who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight.  She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once, I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together.  It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement.  Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with a permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and a designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it.  Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out, she had straightened it.  And took the moment to look deeply into my soul.  It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me.  A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.”  It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’, but I accepted it with good grace.  Sometimes, Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand.  I guessed she was talking about the new job.  “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely.  “There are no secrets between Al and me, are there, Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al.  I tried it once and was admonished.  But it was interesting that her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not.  It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil.  As I understood it, the Blaines were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaines thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realised I was looking at both of them.  I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand.  And yet, apparently, Alison did.  I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets.  Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us.  It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me.  We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?”  Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face.  It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind.  Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realised it would be churlish, even silly, if I made a scene.  I knew what I wanted to say.  I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine or upsetting Alison.  This was not the time or the place.  Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing.  If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decided there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control.  “It’s the little things.  They all add up until one day …”  I shrugged.  “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real?  Or, I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me.  I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points.  It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted.  “Alison was off to get some studying in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up and immediately got the ‘shut up, you fool’ look that cut that line of conversation dead.  Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose.  Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend.  “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation.  I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show.  I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass, gathering some courage and turned to him.  “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up.  You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realised I had spoken.  He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed.  Or perhaps it was deliberate.  She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me.  “Yes.  Elaine said something or other about it.  But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week.  Perhaps I got it wrong.  I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.”  I shrugged as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again.  “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart.  It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; she might have been telling me lies.  If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect.  Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows.  Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details.  “You sure you want to do that?”

At last, the voice of reason.  “Me?  No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him.  Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him.  “Jimmy, between you and me, I haven’t as yet decided one way or another.  To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay who recently moved into the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognised the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago.  Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker.  I felt sick, faint, and wanted to die all at the same moment.  “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time.  Too busy with work, I expect.  I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted, and I knew I had to keep it together.  I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down.  I sucked in some deep breaths and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown.  Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth.  It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction.  It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and me.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, but it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact that I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough that the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket.  She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points.  Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine.  She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly.  I chose to ignore her and pretend nothing had happened, rather than tell her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’.  I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent-up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me.  It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, that Jimmy came looking for me.  I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse.  When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was, but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which, to a large degree, it was for the other three.  But I had achieved what I set out to do: to play them at their own game, watching the deception once I knew there was one, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree.  It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaines back to the Upper West Side.  But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer.  She showed concern for my health and asked me what was wrong.  It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it.  Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

…

© Charles Heath 2015-2026

Sunday In New York

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 268

Day 268 – Getting Feedback

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The Praise and the Perils of Feedback: Why Loving the Applause Can Be Just as Dangerous as Fearing the Critique

There is nothing quite like the dopamine hit of hearing, “That was incredible!”

Whether you’re a writer, a designer, a coder, an entrepreneur, or just someone who poured their heart into a project, praise feels like validation. It tells you that your efforts mattered, that your voice was heard, and that you are on the right track.

Conversely, hearing that your work misses the mark—or worse, is actively bad—hits like a physical blow. The stomach drops, the defensive walls go up, and the inner critic starts whispering, “You have no idea what you’re doing.”

As professionals and creators, we spend a lot of time learning how to handle harsh criticism. We read books on thick skin, take courses on emotional resilience, and tell ourselves not to take things personally. But here’s the uncomfortable truth we rarely talk about: While negative feedback can crush your spirit, unearned or unexamined praise can quietly destroy your craft.

Welcome to the complex, psychological tightrope walk of professional feedback. Let’s explore the praise, the perils, and how to survive both.


The Sweet Trap of Praise

Let’s start with the good stuff. Praise is wonderful. It fuels us, builds confidence, and makes the late nights and gruelling revisions worth it.

However, praise carries a hidden hazard: complacency.

When people love your work, the temptation is to sit back and bask in the glow of approval. But in creative and professional spaces, comfort is the enemy of growth. When you believe you’ve created a masterpiece, you stop questioning your process. You stop looking for the flaws.

Worse yet, constant praise can lead to the “Pleaser’s Dilemma.” If you become addicted to the high of being told your work is amazing, you may unconsciously start tailoring your future projects to keep people happy. You begin making safe, predictable choices that guarantee applause, rather than taking the risky, innovative leaps that lead to true mastery.

The Peril of Praise: It tells you who you were yesterday, not who you could be tomorrow.


The Bitter Pill of Criticism

On the other end of the spectrum is negative feedback. Nobody enjoys being told their baby is ugly. When someone looks at something you’ve bled over and picks it apart, the natural biological response is fight-or-flight.

Yet, as we all know intellectually, criticism is often where the magic happens. A sharp critique acts like an X-ray machine; it exposes the structural weaknesses you were too close to see. It forces you to defend your choices, rethink your logic, and ultimately elevate your work.

However, criticism has its own set of perils, primarily noise pollution.

Not all criticism is created equal. Some negative feedback comes from a place of genuine expertise and a desire to help. But a lot of it stems from personal bias, misunderstanding, or a simple mismatch in taste. If you take every piece of negative feedback to heart, you risk “designing by committee”—twisting your work into a fragmented, unrecognisable mess trying to please every dissenting voice.

The Peril of Criticism: It can paralyse you, derail your vision, and make you abandon a great idea just because one person didn’t get it.


How to Navigate the Feedback Loop

So, how do we survive the intoxicating rush of praise and the stinging blow of critique without losing our minds—or our creative integrity?

Here are four rules for mastering the feedback loop:

1. Vet Your Sources

Not all opinions carry the same weight. Before you let praise inflate your ego or criticism break your heart, ask yourself: Does this person actually understand my goals? Do they have expertise in this domain?

  • A standing ovation from your mom is sweet, but it won’t help you improve your professional output.
  • A harsh critique from a bitter internet stranger isn’t worth losing sleep over. Curate a small “board of directors”—trusted peers, mentors, or editors whose taste you respect—and prioritize their voices above all others.

2. Separate Your Identity from Your Output

This is the holy grail of professional resilience. When someone says, “This report is confusing,” they are not saying, “You are an unintelligent person.” When you tie your self-worth to your work, praise becomes an addiction and criticism becomes an existential threat. Practice viewing your work as a separate entity—something you built, crafted, and put out into the world, but not the sum total of your human value.

3. Look for the Pattern, Not the Incident

If one person tells you your writing is too dense, they might just be having an off day. But if five people tell you your writing is too dense, put your ego in check and pay attention. True feedback is about patterns. When multiple reliable sources point out the same friction point (whether positive or negative), take note. That’s where the real data lives.

4. Stay Hungry (Even When You’re Great)

When you receive glowing praise, accept it gracefully, say thank you, and immediately ask yourself: How can I push this further? What’s the next level? Don’t let the applause drown out your internal drive for curiosity and improvement.


The Bottom Line

Getting feedback is an inescapable part of putting your work into the world. It’s wonderful when people love what you do, and it stings when they don’t.

Ultimately, both praise and critique are just data points. Praise tells you what resonated; criticism tells you where the friction is. Your job isn’t to chase the applause or run from the jeers—it’s to listen objectively, take what serves you, leave the rest behind, and keep creating.

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Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

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How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect them.

In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.

I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.

Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half-brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.

There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.

Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.

It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.

For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.

It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!

And a great idea for a story.

That story is called ‘Mistaken Identity’.