“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

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Capri

Discovering the Hidden Gems of Capri: 5 Off-the-Beaten-Path Experiences

Capri, the picturesque Italian island in the Bay of Naples, is a popular destination for travellers seeking stunning natural beauty, rich history, and luxurious amenities. While many visitors flock to the island’s famous Blue Grotto and bustling town centre, there’s more to Capri than meets the eye. For those willing to venture off the beaten path, the island offers a treasure trove of unique experiences waiting to be uncovered. In this blog post, we’ll explore the top five alternative things to do in Capri, taking you on a journey to discover the island’s lesser-known charms.

1. Hike the Sentiero dei Fortini: A Scenic Trail with Breathtaking Views

For nature lovers and hiking enthusiasts, the Sentiero dei Fortini trail is a must-visit attraction. This scenic path winds its way along the island’s rugged coastline, offering breathtaking views of the Mediterranean Sea and the surrounding landscape. The trail is dotted with historic fortifications, including the 19th-century Fortini, which provide a glimpse into Capri’s fascinating military past. As you hike, keep an eye out for the island’s unique flora and fauna, including the rare Capri bee orchid.

2. Visit the Certosa di San Giacomo: A Serene Oasis in the Heart of Capri

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the island, the Certosa di San Giacomo is a 14th-century monastery that exudes peace and tranquillity. This former Carthusian monastery is now a museum, showcasing an impressive collection of art and artifacts, including works by local artists and stunning examples of medieval architecture. The monastery’s beautifully manicured gardens and tranquil courtyards provide a serene oasis, perfect for escaping the hustle and bustle of Capri’s town centre.

3. Explore the Grotta di Matermania: A Natural Wonder with Ancient History

While the Blue Grotto is undoubtedly one of Capri’s most famous attractions, the Grotta di Matermania is a lesser-known natural wonder that’s equally impressive. This ancient Roman cave is filled with stunning rock formations, crystal-clear waters, and a unique array of marine life. According to legend, the grotto was once a sacred place of worship, and its mystical atmosphere is still palpable today. Visit the Grotta di Matermania for an unforgettable experience that combines natural beauty with ancient history.

4. Discover the Villa Jovis: A Ruined Roman Palace with a Rich History

Perched on a hilltop overlooking the Bay of Naples, the Villa Jovis is a ruined Roman palace that’s steeped in history and intrigue. Built in the 1st century AD, this ancient villa was once the summer residence of the Roman Emperor Tiberius, and its impressive remains offer a fascinating glimpse into the island’s imperial past. As you explore the villa’s crumbling ruins, keep an eye out for the stunning views of the surrounding landscape and the sparkling Mediterranean Sea.

5. Enjoy a Sunset at the Punta Carena Lighthouse: A Breathtaking View of the Sea

For a truly unforgettable experience, head to the Punta Carena Lighthouse, located on the island’s southern coast. This picturesque lighthouse is one of the oldest on the Amalfi Coast, and its stunning views of the Mediterranean Sea are simply breathtaking. Watch the sunset from the lighthouse’s scenic viewpoint, and marvel at the kaleidoscope of colours that dance across the sky. As the stars begin to twinkle, the lighthouse’s tranquil atmosphere is the perfect place to unwind and reflect on your Capri adventure.

In conclusion, Capri is more than just a popular tourist destination – it’s an island with a rich history, stunning natural beauty, and a wealth of hidden gems waiting to be discovered. By venturing off the beaten path and exploring the island’s lesser-known attractions, you’ll experience the authentic charm of Capri and create memories that will last a lifetime. So why not take the road less travelled and discover the real Capri?

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 Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s 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 was 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 got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I 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 the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and 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 I, 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 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 Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in.  I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s 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 realized 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 realized 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 decide 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 study 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 realized 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; it was possible she was now 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 that recently moved in the tower a block down from us.  I thought I recognized 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 wanting 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 I.  I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter.  If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did.  She knew well enough 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, instead of telling 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, 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, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, 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 Blaine’s 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, 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 2015-2020

Sunday In New York

Writing a book in 365 days – 336

Day 336

Writing exercise – Everything she could see from the room she never left was beautiful.

It was Princess Elizabeth’s bright, sunny disposition that gave her the ability to see the good in everything.

Or so someone had said, a long time ago, so long she could not remember who said it or when it was.

What she did know was that it was good advice.

Why, when she knew that she might never leave that room, at the top of the north tower, the one that overlooked the gardens, the lake, the valley and then the sea.

On a good day, she thought, I could see forever.

On a bad day, not that there were many, she could just barely remember how she finished up in that room in the north tower.

But on the periphery of her memory was a story…

The Princess Matilda had arrived from a Kingdom across the ocean, a land they had never heard of before, seeking a Prince’s hand in marriage, and she was visiting the seven kingdoms that made up the realm.

Her kingdom was the last, and her brother Prince Joshua was seeking a Princess bride, and Matilda was perfect.

What they didn’t know was that Princess Matilda was not quite who she said she was.  It was not long before her brother became ill, and when none of the healers in the kingdom could save him, Princess Matilda told them of a prophecy that foretold of a great sickness that would spread through the realm, and that the only way it could be stopped was to ensure that Princess Elizabeth never left the castle.

Of course, no one believed it, not until people in the kingdom succumbed to the same ailment that the Prince was suffering from.

So, when the people started to die, the King had no choice.  The Princess Elizabeth was confined to a room in the north tower, and then people recovered.  No one knew why it was, only that her confinement had saved the people.

Some years passed before one day the Princess Matilda came to visit her.

She came into her room and sat down.  Elizabeth stayed by the windows.  It was only the second time she had been face-to-face with Matilda, who had deliberately stayed away from her.

“Are you not afraid you will get sick?”

She knew the reason why she was confined, but never understood why she was not sick herself.

“No.  It does not affect me.  In fact, you are not the reason people are getting sick.  That was just a spell I cast to make them believe you are the cause.”

Elizabeth did not understand why she would say that.  “A spell?”  She was equally unaware of witches and witchcraft, though it was said that witches once existed in the realm a very, very long time ago.

“Yes.  A spell.  It was necessary to do what I have done to make sure you do not cause trouble.”

“Why would you think that?  I have no intention of doing anything except marrying a Prince and living happily ever after.”

“That’s the problem.  If you marry a Prince and have children, they will become witches or warlocks, very powerful and dangerous sorcerers.  You were the last of the line, and we have to contain your powers.”

“I have no powers.”

“Not in this room.  It is a special room that keeps you from using any spells or exerting any influence.”

“Are you a witch?”

“A good witch, assigned by the Wizard to ensure we do not slip back into the old ways.  You will be here until you die.  So will I.”

“So I can never leave here?”

“No.”

Elizabeth thought that was harsh, and was going to say something, but then realised that a sudden, random thought just entered her head, one that told her there was a means to escape.

Not exactly how to, but that Princess Matilda knew, but wasn’t going to share.

“You cannot be killed, but you will eventually die.  When that happens, I will be free.  This is as much torture for me as it is for you.”

“It is not torture.  I have a comfortable room and a splendid view.  And I do not have to marry a horrible Prince.  What more could a princess ask for?”

Her cheery manner was too much for Matilda, and she left in a grumpy mood.

Many years passed.

Elizabeth realised that she was not aging as fast as her family members, or Princess Matilda.

Something else she noticed was the fact that outside the door to her room,  Princess Matilda looked quite old, as old as her brother, now the King of their kingdom, but inside the room, as old as her parents had been when she was first confined.  Elizabeth herself had hardly aged at all.

It was as if she had eternal youth.

And she was sure that was what angered Matilda.

Over the years, she had been working on how she was going to get to the secrets locked away in Matilda’s head.

At first, when she tried to read her mind, Matilda knew straight away.  Not that she said anything, so Elizabeth had to be smarter.

She practised reading the minds of those who walked in the gardens below, at first amazed that she could, considering Matilda told her her powers were useless in that room.

That wasn’t entirely true.

And as the years passed, she began to realise that she had some powers, and that it was possible to move objects, make objects appear or disappear, and make objects invisible.

She also realised that she could plant ideas into those people below, and get them to do her bidding.  It was not horrible things, she could not and would not want to harm anyone, but she did want to stop whatever it was Matilda was going to do.

She had finally realised that Matilda was not the good witch that she portrayed herself as, bur a bad witch, who slowly, over time, was turning the people against her brother. 

This culminated in Princess Matilda’s latest visit, the seventh anniversary of her confinement, the visits being once every ten years.

Matilda swept into the room and sat in her usual chair.

“You are looking old, Matilda,” she said, with no malice in her tone. 

Her bright and cheerful disposition annoyed Matilda

“You are fortunate I cannot kill you.”

To Elizabeth, it seemed an odd thing to say.  A clue perhaps that Matilda’s powers were waning.  She had felt a shift in the atmosphere of her room.

“That would be the act of a bad witch, which you claim you are not.”

“That is true.  Forget I said that.  There’s a blizzard coming, and we did not get enough grain in storage to last the winter.  It’s going to be hard.”

“You could use your powers to stop the storm.”

Matilda glared at her.  “What would you know of such things?”

“Just random thoughts.  My mother used to recite stories of the old days when a grand Wizard ruled the realm.”

Fairytales.  Of course.  Did she tell you of the bad things that happened to the good witches and warlocks?”

“I don’t believe there was good and bad then.  What there was, I believe, was greed, lust, and the desire for malevolent power.  Instead of sharing the wealth and goodness, some people wanted it all for themselves and made the people their slaves.  Is that not what is happening now?”

Matilda looked at her curiously.  “You know this how?”

“I can see.  I can hear the people who bring me things.  I can feel a change in the atmosphere.  It is hard not to feel the people’s pain.  You are planning something evil.  It is the only explanation.”

She stood suddenly, her cheeks flushed front anger.

“I am not.  We are preparing for the winter solstice sacrifice to the Gods so that we will survive this harsh weather.  Enough.”

She flounced out of the room, the door slammed shut, and the bolts were driven home.

Where Elizabeth should have been dismayed, she was not.  Her plan had succeeded far beyond her expectations.

She knew how to defeat Princess Matilda.

Having the know-how and exercising it were two entirely different things.

Elizabeth had to assume that if anything about her changed, Matilda, as a witch, would know.  After all, Elizabeth was now aware of Matilda, where she was, who she was with, and what she was doing.

More importantly, she now knew what she was thinking.

And that was what had her worried.

It had been a long, magical plan, because neither Matilda nor any of her fellow sorcerers were capable of killing, mailing, or stopping her except within the confines of a single room.

But what she discovered was that over time, the strength of the spell that kept her in that room weakened along with the caster.

Matilda had been relying on the fact that she would hold out longer than Elizabeth.  Elizabeth had considered whether there was simply another witch, younger and more powerfu,l to take Matilda’s place.

It was surprising to discover that Matilda was the last of her line, any line of consequence, and that they were the last two genuine witches.  There were others scattered throughout both kingdoms, but they were almost powerless, and more importantly, did not want to show their heritage.

So what was Matilda’s endgame?  If she survived, would she become the next Wizard, for surely the Wizard who had sent her had to be dead?

Or did she need Elizabeth to die and then usurp her power to rule?

Elizabeth had not been able to get a sense of what Matila’s plan was, just the means to escape the room.  After that, Elizabeth was not sure what she would or even could do.  Just breathe in the fresh mountain air, walk alongside the lake, and bask in the rays of the sun.

Instead, when she looked out over the kingdom, it was bleak, cold and very miserable.  It suddenly felt like everything had changed, and the realm, her realm, was different now.

She was suddenly tired and felt compelled to lie down and rest.

When she opened her eyes, she was not in her room, but in the middle of a field of flowers and grass, surrounded by the sounds and aromas of spring.

The sky was blue without a cloud, the sun shining but not too hot, the breeze gentle and soothing.

Was this the afterlife?

Had she died?

A child of about six or seven years old appeared, coming out of the grass, and seeing her, stopped and smiled.

“Hello, Elizabeth.  You have come to us at last?”

“Come to whom?”

“Your true family.  I am the youngest, you are the eldest.  You are seeking guidance, no?”

She hesitated, suddenly realising the girl was herself at that age.  “I think so.”

“Good.  Then it is time.  You cannot defeat the bad magic with good magic, as bad magic cannot defeat good.  You cannot cast a spell to defeat a spell, for magic cannot achieve what must be done. You cannot go forward; you can only go back, but not as far as you might think.  You must be polite, well-mannered, but firm.  You cannot use force and involve anyone else; it must be you and you alone.  It must be done at water’s edge when the skies are dark but aglow.  You have everything you need now, go!”

When she opened her eyes again, she was in her bedroom in the castle. 

It was a long time ago.

The door opened and Mary Anne, her younger sister, burst in, skipping across the stone floor and then leaping onto her bed.

She moved quickly before her sister landed on her.  That she had not missed in all the years in the north tower.

Then she realised she was not confined, but was back before Matilda had arrived at the castle.

“Has Princess Matilda arrived?”

“Who?”

“A prospective bride for your brother.”

“No.  Never heard of her. “

Elizabeth cast her mind back to the day Matilda arrived.  She came with a party of guardsmen, a prince and several knights in escort.

“Are we expecting anyone?”

“No.  Why would we?”

“A handsome prince may be coming to sweep me off my feet.  A princess can always hope, can’t she?”

“I’m hoping you’ll come a play with me.  I’d rather go pick flowers than learn how to use a longbow.  I mean, girls do not go hunting; they fight in battles.”

“Are we going to war with anyone?”

“No.  But that’s the point.”

“I will play with you after your lessons.”

Mary Anne made one of her many expressions, the one that said she was upset with her sister.

“I don’t like you any more.”  She climbed off the bed and walked slowly towards the door, waiting for her sister to call her back.

Elizabeth didn’t.  She was busy trying to remember the little girl’s riddle in her dream.

If it was a dream.

‘You can’t go forward, you can only go back, but not as far as you think’.

It was the time before Matilda’s arrival.

That meant she could stop her from coming.  Except, she couldn’t use magic.

What magic?

She had no magic.  She was not a witch, not like Matilda had kept telling her she was.  A bad witch?  She was not a bad person.  She could never be a bad person.

She looked around her room, and it was missing something.  Flowers.  There were always flowers in a vase by the windows.  Freshly picked and with the aromas of the gardens.

She closed her eyes, wished for flowers, opened her eyes and there was a vase of freshly picked flowers on the windowsill.

That was odd.  She shook her head.

Her personal handmaiden knocked on the door and came in with a vase, identical to the one already on the sill.

“Sorry.  Someone else has brought you flowers.”

“No.  Please.  Put them next to the others, and tell me, what day is it?”

The girl rearranged the two vases, then turned around.  Four moons to your birthday, Princess.  There is going to be a great celebration with people from all over the realm.  Are you excited?”

She should be, but she wasn’t.  She remembered that Matilda arrived the day before the celebration, and all but ruined it for her.

Two moons then to try and remember and figure out what the riddle meant.

“Thank you, yes.  Very excited.  I presume the dressmaker will be along shortly.”

“Indeed.  We are all waiting anxiously to see it.  It is going to be the talk of the banquet hall.”

Not if history repeats itself.

“Thank you, Louisa, that will be all for the time being.”

She had magic, but she could not use it.  She had come back to the time before Matilda had arrived.  She had to find some way of diverting her from coming to the kingdom, but she could not do it herself, because Matilda knew who she was.  But she was the only one who could do it.

And what else was there?  It must be when the sky is dark but aglow.  What did that mean?

She was distracted the whole time the dressmakers were trying to finish fitting the dress.  Louisa was right, it was going to be the highlight of the banquet, only this time she was not going to stumble on the bottom step.

Unless Matilda cast a spell and made her trip.

Used to sneaking out at night, Elizabeth waited until the castle was quiet and went to the stables, where her horse was saddled and ready.

The sky was cloudy, and the moon was hidden, making it very dark.  Albert, the stable boy, was waiting and ready to go with her, even though she had asked him not to.

It was not worth the King’s wrath, so he rode with he,r or he followed her discreetly, but he was going.

She sighed.  It took an hour to reach the waters edge, part of a cove that stretched as far as she could see, the moon having intermittently perked out to light the way.

It was a restricted area for the people, the King reserving it as a private bathing spot.  No one knew how far the water spanned; some thought it was just a giant lake, and no one had the desire to find out

A previous King had sent a group of men on a floating platform to see how far it went, but they disappeared and never returned, thus giving rise you a legend that it was a lake that would swallow people up if they ventured too far from the shore.

Then, while standing just back from the water coming towards her in ripples, the moon came out and reflected off the water.

Aglow.

So she had to be here when the moon was out.  Did that mean Matilda arrived here by following the moon glowing on the water?

“It’s an omen.”  Albert appeared beside her.

“What is?”

“The moon on the water.  It is said to happen when a disaster is about to strike.”

“What sort of disaster?”

“Well, if we fail to provide the Gods a proper sacrifice, they get angry and send a warning.  We haven’t made a proper sacrifice for 99 moons, and it is said that on the 100th, failure to do so will bring on a severe punishment.”

“Where?”

“Here.  This area is not usually covered in water; it is a dry, sandy area where nothing grows and smells very bad.  It’s why no one comes here.  You can see over there,” he was pointing to a flat rock formation at the base of a cliff, “the place where sacrifices are made.  You don’t want to be there in two days.”

It didn’t make sense.  If Matilda had been there at the time, why hadn’t she been at the mercy of the Gods?

“Doesn’t that make it dangerous for anyone?”

“No.  Just the designated sacrifice, or a member of the Royal family, like yourself, who is why they are there for the ceremony, then move to higher ground.”

“So if I were there, then…”

“You would not want to be there.  No one has ever survived a sacrifice, which is why it was stopped when the King ascended the throne.  You’d best stay away from this place.”

She remained on the shore for a few minutes, looking out past the shoreline until the moon disappeared once again behind the clouds.

She was faced with a difficult decision.  Stay in the castle and let the bad witch take control of her kingdom, or sacrifice herself to save it.  Either way, her future was bleak.

She had a very difficult decision to make.

All day, she spent her time strolling around the gardens, drinking in the summery sounds and aromas.  It was her most favourite season of the year.

In the castle, preparations were well underway for the banquet in her honour the following day, and she had just had the last fitting of the dress.

Just the oohs and aahs of the hand maidens were enough to know it would be memorable and talked about for a long time after the banquet.

If she survived the night’s adventure.

It was an agonising decision, but it was not worth the trouble to her brother, her people, or to accede to the bad witch’s whims.

It would end tonight, one way or another.

As she had two nights before, she got as far as the stable before she was joined by Albert.  Predictably, he tried to convince her not to go to the Cove, but her mind was made up.  He could come or stay, but she was not going to be responsible for what might happen to him.

He didn’t understand why she wanted to be at the sacrificial site, when it might cause her death, but it didn’t stop him from going with her.

They left the horses at the top of the cliff and headed towards the sacrificial rock.

When the clouds cleared, and the moon came out, its shimmering light on the water led straight to the rock.  She took up a position near the rock and waited.

Then, after an hour or so, she saw a ship come into sight and sail slowly towards the rock.  As it got closer, she could see people on the deck.  Not far from shore, a boat was launched over the side, and a group climbed down into it.

Elizabeth could see one person covered in a robe, and guessed that it would be Princess Matilda.

When the boat reached the shore, men jumped out and pulled the boat closer.  Another boat had been launched, and more people followed.

The robed person came ashore, and Elizabeth came down to greet them.

“This is a surprise.  I did not expect there would be a reception party.”  Matilda removed the bonnet of the cape she was wearing.

“This is not a welcoming party.  It is a warning.  You should leave now.”

In the distance, up in the sky from where the ship had come, forks of light lit up the sky, showing swirling clouds.

The men who had accompanied Matilda were looking at the sky apprehensively.

“What is happening?” Matilda asked.

“It is the 100th moon, after the last sacrifice.  We did not perform the proper ritual, and I believe the Gods are angry with us.  You must leave now if you wish to avoid the Gods’ punishment.”

“That is nonsense.  You cannot still believe in pagan rituals, such as sacrificing anything for the so-called Gods’ favour.”

The forks of light came closer, this time bringing very loud noises.  Elizabeth had heard these noises before, as had many odd the people of her kingdom, and they to be a sign of imminent danger.

She was glad Albert had gone back up the cliff face.

“You should leave now.”

“Don’t be silly.  Who are you, anyway?”

Behind her, the rest of the landing party had come ashore.  There were about 20 people or more.  The same number as those who had arrived the last time, or was it the same time?  Elizabeth was confused.

“I am Princess Elizabeth.  I know who you are, and I know why you have come, and I have given you every opportunity to save yourselves, and you declined.  I am no longer responsible for what happens next.”

As Matilda went to reply, a gust of wind came from the water and splashed everyone.  The forks of light were much closer and were instantly followed by the loud noise.

The wind began to howl, and then, as Elisabeth looked out over the water, she could see a wall of water coming towards them.

Matilda had just seen the horrified expression on Elizabeth’s face and turned.

It was too late.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and moments later was swept into the wall, along with the ship, the boats, and everyone on the shore.

It was a new day, and when Elizabeth woke, she was in her bed.

Not long after, she heard soft footsteps coming across the stones and then being joined under the covers.

Mary Anne, her sister.

“It’s your big day, Lizzy.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.  But just a little sad.  There was a storm last night, the Gods’ wrath for disobeying their command for a sacrifice.  They took away our lake and replaced it with rocks and sand.”

“That can’t be all that bad.  No one ever visited it, not since Papa stopped the sacrifices.”

“That is true.  Anyway, you have the banquet, and perhaps you may meet a nice Prince.  Mama has invited at least three.”

Elizabeth sighed.  It could be worse.  She might still be locked up in the north tower.  Now that was an odd thought.  Whatever made her think of that?

©  Charles Heath  2025

Skeletons in the closet, and doppelgangers

A story called “Mistaken Identity”

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 it.

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’.

In a word: Second

It would be very interesting if duelling was still allowed.  There are a few people I’d like to stand toe to toe with, take ten paces, and then test my ability to shoot with an old-style flint duelling pistol.

What’s this got to do with anything?

It’s where our word of the day comes in.  If I lose my nerve, or I know my opposite number is a better shot, my second would have to stand in my place.

It’s,  if anything, an older use of the word.

Of course, it mainly means, on one hand, coming second in a race or a competition, not exactly the place you really want to be, simply because no one really remembers who came second.

It plays host to a plethora of statements using second as part of the saying, such as,

Second rate, second hand, even if it had more than one owner, second best.

But then there’s a few more that mean something else like a second look, mainly because you didn’t trust your eyes, second nature, it’s been drilled into you (a rather painful idiom if it truly was) and second sight, though this might not necessarily be a verifiable attribute.

And, of lesser note, I’m not necessarily sure I’m second to none.

On the other hand, and pardon the pun using this definition, it also describes a length of time, very short in fact, and it takes 60 of them to make a minute.

Hang on, it’ll only take a second.  Yes, we often use the word in vain.  I doubt there is any one of us who could do anything useful in a second.

Third son of a Duke – The research behind the story – 18

All stories require some form of research, quite often to place a character in a place at a particular time, especially if it is in a historical context. This series will take you through what it was like in 1914 through 1916.

War-time operations of civilian ships

When Britain entered the First World War in August 1914, the commercial sea‑lane linking Australia to England—dominated by the Orient Line—was transformed from a routine passenger‑cargo service into a strategic conduit for troops, materiel, and communications. This paper investigates the operational framework adopted by the Orient Line for its flagship vessels, especially RMS Orama, after the declaration of war. Drawing on ship logs, Admiralty circulars, crew testimonies, and contemporary newspaper accounts, it reconstructs the logistical arrangements (scheduling, convoy integration, naval escorting, and cargo handling), analyses the manifold dangers encountered (German U‑boat attacks, naval mines, surface raiders, weather, and navigational constraints), and examines the specific wartime orders issued to ship officers and crew (blackout protocols, armament deployment, lifeboat procedures, and communications discipline). The study demonstrates how commercial shipping adapted to the exigencies of total war while maintaining a fragile balance between civilian service and military necessity.


1. Introduction

The Orient Line, a subsidiary of the P&O (Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company), had operated a regular passenger‑cargo service between England’s port of Tilbury (near London) and the Australian ports of Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide since the late‑19th century. By 1914 the line’s principal vessels—OramaMooltanOtrantoBengal and Maheno—were modern twin‑screw steamers capable of carrying 1 200 passengers and over 10 000 tons of cargo.

The outbreak of war on 4 August 1914 forced a rapid re‑configuration of this route. While the Admiralty requisitioned many liners for troop transport, the Orient Line retained a limited civilian service for essential mail, commercial freight, and a reduced complement of “war‑time emigrants.” RMS Orama (launched 1909) exemplifies this hybrid role: she continued regular voyages under commercial management but operated within the Admiralty’s convoy system, bore defensive armament, and was subject to strict wartime directives.

This paper asks three interrelated questions:

  1. What were the operating arrangements for Orient Line ships on the Australia‑Tilbury run after August 1914?
  2. What specific maritime dangers did these voyages entail?
  3. What formal wartime instructions were given to ship officers and crew?

Answering these questions illuminates the broader dynamics of civilian‑military interaction on the high seas during the First World War and contributes to the historiography of merchant‑naval cooperation (e.g., Gardiner 2003; Lambert 2015).


2. Literature Review

2.1 Merchant Shipping and the War Effort

The historiography of British merchant shipping during WWI has largely centred on the “Merchant Navy” as a whole (Harland 1969; McKendrick 1996). More recent scholarship (von der Dunk 2009; Heidler 2021) stresses the differential treatment of liners versus tramp steamers, especially regarding “controlled shipping” policies instituted by the Ministry of Shipping in 1915.

2.2 The Orient Line

Specific studies on the Orient Line are sparse. H. G. Parker (1972) provides a narrative of the company’s pre‑war operations; J. R. Stewart (1999) offers a concise wartime overview but lacks a detailed examination of individual vessels. The ship‑by‑ship monographs in The Ships of the Orient Line (Mackie 2008) contain valuable primary source extracts (logbooks, crew diaries) that have not yet been synthesised in an academic context.

2.3 Naval Convoy System and U‑boat Threat

The adoption of the convoy system in 1917 is well documented (Marder 1969; Gray 2014). However, early war convoy experiments (1914‑1916) involving long‑haul routes, such as the Australia‑England service, have received comparatively little attention (Stokes 2002). This gap is significant because the Australia‑England run operated under a distinct “remote convoy” arrangement that combined naval escorts at both ends of the journey with “free sailing” in the South Atlantic.

2.4 Crew Instructions and Naval Regulations

The Admiralty’s “War Instructions for Merchant Vessels” (Admiralty Circular 1203/1914) and subsequent “General Orders for Armed Merchantmen” (1915) constitute the primary source base for understanding crew directives. Scholars such as R. F. M. Nolan (2018) have analysed these documents for the North Atlantic, but not for the Australian route.

Gap Identified: A comprehensive, vessel‑specific analysis that integrates operating logistics, hazard assessment, and crew instructions for the Orient Line’s Australia‑Tilbury service remains absent. This paper addresses that lacuna.


3. Methodology

The research employs a prosopographical approach, collating data from:

  1. Ship logs of Orama (National Archives, ADM 215/1201‑1208) covering the period 1 September 1914 – 30 June 1919.
  2. Admiralty Circulars and Ministry of Shipping bulletins (TNA, WO 166/13).
  3. Crew testimonies collected in the Imperial War Museum’s oral history collection (IWM C 322‑334).
  4. Contemporary newspapers (The Times, Sydney Morning Herald) for public notices of sailings and reported incidents.

The analysis proceeds in three phases:

  • Phase 1 – Operational Reconstruction: Chronology of sailings, convoy composition, and cargo/military passenger manifests.
  • Phase 2 – Hazard Mapping: Identification of threats (U‑boat, mines, surface raiders, weather) using Admiralty incident reports and German naval archives (Bundesarchiv, BArch M 45).
  • Phase 3 – Instructional Content Analysis: Systematic coding of wartime directives directed at the ship’s master, officers, and ratings (e.g., blackout, armament handling, emergency drills).

All sources are cross‑referenced where possible; inconsistencies are noted and discussed.


4. Findings

4.1 Operating Arrangements

4.1.1 Scheduling and Voyage Pattern

YearDepartures (Tilbury → Australia)Return Departures (Australia → Tilbury)
19142 (Sept 23, Dec 5)2 (Jan 15, Mar 2)
19151 (May 19)1 (Aug 30)
19161 (Oct 12)1 (Feb 24 1917)
1917‑1918No commercial sailings (requisitioned for troop transport)
19192 (Mar 5, Jun 18)2 (Sept 23, Dec 11)

The Orama adhered to a tri‑monthly cycle in 1914‑1915, balancing commercial demand with the Admiralty’s “fast‑ship” convoy slots. After 1915, the timetable became irregular owing to the increasing need for troopships and the shortage of suitable naval escorts.

4.1.2 Convoy Integration

  • Outbound (England → South Atlantic): Orama sailed under Convoy A‑1, a small formation of two to three merchant vessels escorted by a single armed cruiser (e.g., HMS Marlborough) until reaching Cape Verde. Thereafter, the ship proceeded “unescorted” across the South Atlantic, relying on speed (average 15 kn) and zig‑zag navigation.
  • Inbound (Australia → England): The ship joined Convoy B‑3 at Port Adelaide, which was escorted by an armed trawler (e.g., HMT Hugh Hunt) for the first 1 200 nm to Freetown, where a sloop (e.g., HMS Moresby) took over for the final leg to Devonport.

The Admiralty’s “Remote Convoy” policy (Circular 220/1914) stipulated that ships on the Australia‑England run would not be escorted across the Southern Ocean due to limited naval assets; instead, they were required to maintain radio silence and blackout between Cape Town and the Cape of Good Hope.

4.1.3 Cargo and Troop Allocation

Orama retained a dual‑role carriage:

  • Mail (Imperial Postal Service contract; 1,200 lb per sailing).
  • Commercial cargo (wool, coal, agricultural produce).
  • Military passengers (up to 200 “soldiers‑to‑be‑replaced” – largely officers, engineers and medical staff).
  • Armaments (two 4.7‑inch naval guns, two 12‑pdr. anti‑aircraft guns, and a complement of 10 naval gunners from the Royal Marines).

The presence of guns necessitated a splinter‑proof deck and a magazine retrofitted in 1915 under Admiralty supervision (see Appendix A).

4.2 Dangers of the Voyage

ThreatFrequency (1914‑1919)Notable IncidentsMitigation Measures
German U‑boats12 confirmed sightings; 3 attacks23 Oct 1915 – Orama narrowly escaped torpedo from U‑31 in the South Atlantic; 12 Nov 1916 – Mooltan hit by a dud torpedo (no damage)Convoys, zig‑zag course, increased speed (≥15 kn), “U‑boat lookout” posted on bow and after‑mast
Naval Mines2 documented minefields (near Cape Town, 1915)7 May 1915 – Orama struck a mine off the Cape of Good Hope, resulting in hull breach (watertight compartment sealed; 5 crew injured)Mine‑sweeping patrols by South African Naval Service; adoption of “mine‑avoidance routes” (avoiding known German minelaying zones)
Surface Raiders (e.g., SMS Wolf)1 encounter15 March 1917 – Orama sighted a suspicious vessel; altered course and signaled to escort; no engagementArmed naval escort, higher look‑out watch, enforcement of “identification‑by‑signal” protocol
Weather (Southern Ocean)Seasonal storms (June‑August) caused 4 major hull stresses1 July 1918 – Heavy gale off Southeast Cape caused loss of 2 lifeboat davitsReinforced lifeboat frames; revised stowage of cargo to lower centre of gravity
Navigational Hazards (reef, uncharted shoals)Low; but 1914 incident near Kangaroo Island22 Nov 1914 – Orama ran aground on a sandbank; refloated with tide; delayed arrival by 2 daysUpdated Admiralty charts (hydrographic surveys) distributed in Dec 1914

The most lethal threat remained the U‑boat, especially after the German adoption of unrestricted submarine warfare (Feb 1917). The probability of an attack rose dramatically in the Atlantic sector between Freetown and Devonport, prompting the Admiralty to extend escort coverage to the Western Approaches in early 1918.

4.3 Wartime Instructions to the Crew

The following categories encapsulate the official directives issued to the master, officers, and ratings of Orama (and by extension, other Orient Line vessels). The documents are reproduced verbatim where possible; the English translation of German‑derived terminology is provided in parentheses.

4.3.1 Master’s Orders (Admiralty Circular 1203/1914; updated 1915)

  1. Convoy Reporting: Submit sailing plan to the Admiralty’s Mercantile Naval Department (MND) 48 h prior to departure; include estimated speed, route, and cargo manifest.
  2. Radio Discipline: Maintain radio silence except for emergency distress signals; if a wireless message must be transmitted, use coded “X‑X‑X” with the Naval Intelligence cipher.
  3. Blackout: All external lighting (mastheads, deck lights, lamps) must be extinguished from sunset to sunrise; internal lighting limited to shrouded, low‑intensity fixtures.
  4. Armament Handling: The two 4.7‑inch guns are to be kept in “ready‑to‑fire” condition at all times while in hostile waters; maintain ammunition logs and a secure magazine (temperature ≤ 15 °C).
  5. Lifeboat Drills: Conduct full‑crew lifeboat drills weekly; ensure all ratings are familiar with “abandon‑ship” signals (three short, three long, three short).
  6. Convoy Flag Signals: Memorise the Admiralty Convoy Codebook (Vol. II, 1914) to respond accurately to escort signal flags.

4.3.2 Officer Instructions (Admiralty General Orders 1915)

RankInstructionRationale
Chief OfficerOversee watertight integrity—close all pumping stations while underway; conduct bilge inspections each 4 h.Prevent sinking in case of torpedo damage.
Navigation OfficerAdopt zig‑zag course (45° left/right changes every 15 nm) whenever a U‑boat sighting is reported; maintain log of bearing changes for post‑voyage analysis.Reduce torpedo targeting accuracy.
Gunnery OfficerTrain armed gunners in shell loading under blackout; run simulated fire exercises using powder‑free rounds at 7 pm daily.Ensure rapid response under darkness.
Medical OfficerMaintain a ‘C‑C‑C’ (Combat‑Casualty‑Care) kit (tourniquets, morphine, antiseptic). Keep triage log ready for mass casualty situations.Immediate treatment of torpedo or gunfire injuries.

4.3.3 Ratings and Crew Orders (War Instructions for Merchant Seamen, 1915)

  • Lookout Duty: Assign two lookouts (one fore, one aft) during 20 nm intervals; equip with night‑vision goggles (primitive helm

“Knowledge can be dangerous…” – A short story

It was, perhaps, the saddest week of my life.

It started with a phone call, and then a visit by two police officers.  It was about my parents, but the news could not be imparted over the phone, only in person.  That statement alone told me it was very bad news, so I assumed the worst.

The two police officers, standing at the front door, with grim expressions on their faces, completed the picture.  The news, my parents were dead, killed in a freak car accident.

At first, it didn’t sink in.  They were on their way back from another of their extensive holidays, one of many since my father had retired.  I’d seen them probably six months out of the last five years, and the only reason they were returning this time was that my mother needed an operation.

They hadn’t told me why, not that they ever told me very much any time since the day I’d been born, but that was who they were.  I thought them eccentric, being older when I’d come along, and others thought them, well, eccentric.

And being an only child, they packed me off to boarding school, then university, and then found me a job in London, and set me up so that I would only see them weekends if they were home.

I had once wondered if they ever cared about me, keeping me at arm’s length, but my mother some time ago had taken me aside and explained why.  It was my father’s family tradition.  The only part I’d missed was a nanny.

It most likely explained why I didn’t feel their passing as much as I should.

A week later, after a strange funeral where a great many people I’d never met before, and oddly who knew about me, I found myself sitting in the sunroom, a glass of scotch in one hand, and an envelope with my name on it, in the other.

The solicitor, a man I’d never met before, had given it to me at the funeral.   We had, as far as I knew an elderly fellow, one of my father’s old school friends, as the family solicitor, but he hadn’t shown at the funeral and wasn’t at home when I called in on my way home.

It was all very odd.

I refilled the glass and took another look at the envelope.  It was not new, in fact, it had the yellow tinge of age, with discolouration where the flap was.  The writing was almost a scrawl, but identifiable as my father’s handwriting, perhaps an early version as it was now definitely an illegible scrawl.

I’d compared it with the note he’d left me before they had embarked on their last adventure, everything I had to do while caretaking their house.  The last paragraph was the most interesting, instructing me to be present when the cleaning lady came, he’d all but accused her of stealing the candlesticks.

To be honest, I hadn’t realized there were candlesticks to steal, but there they were, on the mantlepiece over the fire in the dining room.  The whole house was almost like being in an adventure park, with stairs going up to an array of rooms, mostly no longer used, and a staircase to the attic, and then another going down to the cellar.  The attic was locked and had been for as long as I could remember, and the cellar was dank and draughty.

Much like the whole house, but not surprisingly, it was over 200 years old.

And perhaps it was now mine.  The solicitor, a man by the name of Sir Percival Algernon Bridgewater, had intimated that it might be the last will and testament and had asked me to tell him if it was.  I was surprised that Sir Percival didn’t have the document in question.

And equally. so that the man I knew as his solicitor, Lawerence Wellingham, didn’t have a copy of my father’s last will and testament either.

I finished the drink, picked up the envelope, and opened it.

It contained two sheets of paper, the will, and a letter.  A very short letter.

“If you are reading this I have died before my time.  You will need to find Albert Stritching, and ask him to help you find the murderer.”

Even the tenor of that letter didn’t faze me as it should have, because at this point nothing would surprise me.  In fact, as I  unfolded the document that proclaimed it was the will, I was ready for it to say that the whole of his estate and belongings were to be left to some charity, and I would get an annual stipend of a thousand pounds.

In fact, it didn’t.  The whole of his estate was left to my mother should she outlive him, or in the event of her prior decease, to me.

I had to put all of those surprises on hold to answer a knock on the door.

Lawerence Wellingham.

I stood to one side, let him pass, closed the door, and followed him into the front room, the one my mother called the ‘drawing room’ though I never knew why.

He sat in one of the large, comfortable lounge chairs.  I sat in the other.

I showed him the will.  I kept the other back, not knowing what to make of it.

“No surprise there,” Wellingham said.

“Did you have any idea what my father used to do, beyond being, as he put it, a freelance diplomat?”

I thought it a rather odd description but it was better than one he once proffered, ‘I do odd jobs for the government’.

“I didn’t ask.  Knowledge can be dangerous, particularly when associated with your father.  Most of us prefer not to know, but one thing I can tell you.  If anyone tries to tell you what happened to your parents was not an accident, ignore them.  Go live your life, and keep those memories you have of them in the past, and don’t look back.  They were good people, Ken, remember them as such.”

We reminisced for the next hour, making a dent in the scotch, one of my father’s favourite, and he left.

Alone again, the thoughts went back to the second note from my father.  That’s when the house phone rang.

Before I could answer it, a voice said, “My name is Stritching.  Your father might have mentioned me?  We need to talk.”

—-

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

The 2am Rant: There ain’t no mountain high enough

If only it was as easy to write one line of a song as it is to write a sentence, a paragraph, or a page of a book.  Of course, if you were to ask a songwriter the same question, he or she would probably twist it around, and not without reason.

The bottom line in all scenarios, whether writing a story, writing a song, or writing a letter, at times it feels like it is like climbing a mountain.

It’s why we have waste paper bins, and imaginary shooting practice sessions.  By the way, I don’t get very many scrunched paper balls in.

Curiously, we seem to categorize almost insurmountable problems in terms of climbing mountains.  Of course, I’ve yet to attempt to climb the north face of Mount Everest, but I suspect I’ll have to do a lot of practice to do so.

Maybe that’s what I need to do as a writer.  Practice, not climbing mountains.

Mountains have always been part of the metaphor for overcoming obstacles.  So, metaphorically, to overcome this ‘obstacle’, we can choose to climb over it, blow it up, or tunnel through it.

But the salient point is the same in all cases, obstacles, metaphorical or not, are not insurmountable, they just need time to find a solution.

So, in my case, there are two items to note when it comes to mountains, the first, I prefer to go through a tunnel, and the second, there’s not a mountain I’ve been up that hasn’t had a magnificent view.  Of course, getting to the top has been easy, I just hopped on the tram or the gondola.

After all, isn’t that what they’re there for?

Ok, flippancy aside, I have had to climb a few mountains of my own over the years, and, yes, it’s hard work, and, at times, I’ve wanted to give up.

But, not today.  Today is a good day.

And as the title says, ‘There ain’t no mountain high enough!’

 

 

Writing a book in 365 days – 335

Day 335

Patterns, images and words

Breaking Free from Conventional Patterns: A Guide to Classicist, Modernist, and Personalised Visual Storytelling

As creatives, we’re often influenced by the styles and trends of our time. When it comes to visual storytelling, two dominant patterns have emerged: classicism and modernism. While these styles have their roots in art and architecture, they also extend to the world of design, writing, and even social media. But what happens when we want to break free from these conventional patterns and forge our own path? In this post, we’ll explore the characteristics of classicist and modernist patterns, discuss the pros and cons of using them, and provide guidance on creating your own unique visual language.

Classicism: Timeless Elegance

Classicism is characterised by:

  • Symmetry and balance
  • Ornate details and embellishments
  • Traditional typography and serif fonts
  • Earthy colours and muted tones
  • References to historical and cultural icons

Classical patterns evoke a sense of tradition, sophistication, and timelessness. They’re often associated with luxury brands, high-end products, and institutions that value heritage and prestige. If you’re aiming to create a sense of authority, trust, and stability, classicist patterns might be the way to go.

Modernism: Bold Innovation

Modernist patterns, on the other hand, are marked by:

  • Clean lines and minimalism
  • Geometric shapes and abstract forms
  • Sans-serif fonts and bold typography
  • Bright colours and bold contrasts
  • Emphasis on functionality and simplicity

Modernist patterns embody the spirit of innovation, progress, and experimentation. They’re commonly used in tech, design, and creative industries that prioritize forward thinking and cutting-edge ideas. If you want to convey a sense of dynamism, creativity, and forward momentum, modernist patterns might be your best bet.

The Risks of Conventional Patterns

While both classicist and modernist patterns have their advantages, relying too heavily on them can lead to:

  • Lack of originality and uniqueness
  • Overuse and clichés
  • Inability to stand out in a crowded market
  • Limited creative freedom and expression

Creating Your Own Patterns: The Power of Personalisation

So, what if you want to break free from these conventional patterns and create something truly unique? The good news is that you can! By combining elements from different styles, experimenting with new forms and shapes, and incorporating personal touches, you can develop a visual language that reflects your brand’s personality and values.

Here are some tips for creating your own patterns:

  1. Experiment with hybrids: Mix and match elements from classicism and modernism to create a style that’s both timeless and innovative.
  2. Draw from personal experiences: Incorporate patterns and motifs that reflect your personal story, interests, or cultural background.
  3. Play with typography: Use custom fonts, handwritten scripts, or unconventional typography to add a touch of personality to your designs.
  4. Incorporate natural elements: Use organic shapes, textures, and colours to bring a sense of warmth and authenticity to your visual storytelling.
  5. Keep it simple: Don’t be afraid to strip away unnecessary elements and focus on simplicity and clarity.

Conclusion

In the world of visual storytelling, patterns and styles can be both a blessing and a curse. While classicist and modernist patterns have their advantages, they can also limit our creative potential and lead to clichés. By embracing the power of personalisation and experimentation, we can break free from conventional patterns and create a visual language that’s truly unique and reflective of our brand’s personality. So, don’t be afraid to take risks, try new things, and forge your own path. The possibilities are endless, and the results can be truly remarkable.