This is another of those words that can be used for manly different situations.
But…
What happened to it being just an egg, you know the sort you can have for breakfast, fried, scrambled or boiled. Or eggs Benedict.
Or…
We can go down that path where the discussion is about what came first, the chicken or the egg? Don’t ask me, it could be both.
So, now it seems egg has a few other meanings that could be considered somewhat obscure, such as,
He is a good egg.
Wow, comparing someone to an egg? I guess I’d hate to be compared to a rotten egg.
What about, the crowd egged the man on to start a fight.
Well, perhaps a couple of rowdy schoolboys looking for some action behind the shelter shed, or at least that’s what we called it when I went to school (when I’m told, dinosaurs walked the earth)
Then,
If you do something embarrassing, then you are said to finish up with egg on your face.
Oh dear, been there a few times.
Or…
If you were to put all your money into that match tree forest in Ecuador, that’s the equivalent to putting all your eggs in one basket.
In other words, when you discover that the match tree forest in Ecuador was really your financial advisor’s private bank account and he’s now living in a non-extradition country, you understand just what that expression means.
In other words, diversify.
And lastly, if the above happens to you, then it’s time to go on an expedition, to find the goose that laid the golden egg.
50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.
They all start with –
A picture paints … well, as many words as you like. For instance:
And, the story:
Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?
Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave. Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.
But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision. She needed the opportunity to spread her wings. It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.
She was in a rut. Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.
It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper. I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.
And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere. Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication. It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.
So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock. We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.
It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one. Starting the following Monday.
Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.
I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.
What surprised her was my reaction. None.
I simply asked where who, and when.
A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.
A week.
It was all the time I had left with her.
I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.
She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.
Is that all you want to know?
I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.
There’s not much to ask, I said. You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place, and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.
Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would. And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.
One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.
So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.
Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology. It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you. I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.
Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.
I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me, you can make cabinets anywhere.
I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job. It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.
Then the only question left was, what do we do now?
Go shopping for suitcases. Bags to pack, and places to go.
Getting on the roller coaster is easy. On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top. It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.
What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.
Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.
There was no question of going with her to New York. Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back. After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind. New friends new life.
We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.
Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever. I remember standing there, watching the taxi go. It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.
So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.
Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.
People coming, people going.
Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was. Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.
As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.
while poking around in what could be considered part of our colonial past, we came across a place that had a few remnants.
It’s hard to imagine that in the 1800s wagons like the above were a principal means of transport, with variations for transporting goods, or people, drawn by horses.
Whereas these days we can travel 300, 400 miles in a day in the modern car, and in relative comfort, to do the same distance in a horse-drawn vehicle, with no spring loaded axels, would take days.
And the journey is particularly uncomfortable over any distance. There would have to be a series of Inns and Hotels to stay overnight because travel at night would be difficult.
It’s hard to imagine where we would be without the modern motor car.
I have had a ride in a stagecoach once, over a short journey, and it was not something I would contemplate over a long distance.
But, then, what if we suddenly have no oil to create petrol, and we use up all the minerals needed for electric car batteries?
I think it could inspire a post-apocalypse world we would bearly be able to survive in.
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some years ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester.
When I come down to the writing room he’s sitting on the table next to the keyboard.
I take this gesture to mean that he’s not trying to be confrontational.
He’d be sitting on the keyboard if that was his intention.
Or, perhaps he’s trying to lull me into a false sense of security.
I try to read his expression, forgetting that cats down have expressions, just a single look.
Contempt.
I sit down and we’re now eye to eye. Could it be that he is doesn’t like the idea of looking up at me? Might that almost suggest that I am the master and he is the cat?
Perhaps I’m just tired and writing too much into it. Maybe he just saw a mouse and wanted to get an overview of where it might have gone.
Plenty of hiding places in this office. Chester knows some off them himself because there are times when I can’t find him.
Then he deigns to speak. “I think it’s time you cleaned this room up.”
It seems it’s a universal request from everyone, grandchildren included.
“Sorry. Not sorry. I’m going for the grumpy grandfather’s study children are forbidden to enter look. Piles of books, shelves overloaded with more books, messy tables, and papers scattered everywhere. And nowhere to sit because seats are places to pile more stuff.”
He looks around.
“Done a good job of it then. How do you find anything?”
“I found you.”
“I wasn’t hiding.”
“Oh, I thought you were.”
I’m sure there was that imperceptible shake of the head in disdain, before he jumps down and leaves.
Dodged a bullet there. I was sure he was going to complain about his food … again!
I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.
The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritising.
But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.
A chessboard of players
…
I sighed. Someone else who wasn’t who they seemed to be.
At a guess, it was a gun in my back. We were far enough away from anyone else for them to recognise what was happening.
“No need for whatever weapon you have in my back. I’m neither armed nor dangerous.”
“Why are you following me?”
Should I tell her the truth or tell her a lie. The latter would be the most expedient, but I needed to talk to her, so I went with the former.
“You know O’Connell.”
“Were you the one who attacked me?”
“I told you I meant you no harm. What happened to you wasn’t my fault.”
Whatever was in my back was no longer there, so I turned around to face her. She had changed her look since O’Connell’s flat, not only the change in hair colour and length but also the makeup, making it difficult for anyone to recognise her from a distance. I’d been lucky.
“What do you want with him?”
“More than likely the same as you. He made the mistake of thinking you were interested in him, but I suspect your assignment was to get close, and the flat next door was as close as you could get.”
“What are you babbling about? We were friends.”
“How often did he stay in that flat? Everything in it still has the price tag on it.”
“You’re loopy. I’m going now, and I suggest you don’t follow me again.”
“I know where you live remember. All I want is some answers.”
“There are no answers. He was a friend, that’s it. I’m going now.” She turned and started to walk away.
“If I know who you are, the chances are the others do too.”
She stopped. Interesting response. In her shoes, my first reaction, if I was an innocent person, would be to call for a policeman to have me taken away for assaulting her.
She turned and took two steps back towards me. “What are you talking about now?”
“O’Connell’s flat was like Marks and Spenser this morning. I came and found another woman claiming to live next door, named Josephine, unconscious on the floor, and I didn’t do it by the way. She works for a man named Nobbin, McConnell’s direct superior, and whom I think, indirectly I do too, and I suspect she was neutralised by another man named Severin.
“Whatever O’Connell was up to, there are a lot of people who want a missing USB with what I suspect is very interesting, and probably damaging information. You wouldn’t have it, by the way?”
“Who are you?”
“That’s what I’m not sure about. Like I said, I think I work for the same man whom O’Connell worked for, but before that, I worked with the people who had him killed for whatever was on the USB.” It sounded far more horrible out loud than it had a few seconds earlier in my head. God only knew what she was thinking about it. “Who do you work for, because a woman who can do the transformation you just did is either a call girl or an agent?” Another thought just occurred to me, a reason perhaps why she had changed her appearance so radically. “Your flat was searched too, wasn’t it?”
No need to answer yes or no. The look on her face was enough.
We ordered coffee and sat down. She was still very wary of me, but since I seemed to know, or presumed to know, what had happened, she was going to ask me some questions I wasn’t going to be able to answer.
And not because the answers were in the top-secret category, it was simply because I didn’t know.
“So,” I asked, “who do you work for?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“But you were either keeping O’Connell close company by insinuating yourself into his life, or you were maintaining some sort of surveillance.”
She was plating it close, and with a poker face. She was better at it than I was.
“Where is he, by the way?”
“Dead.”
“Dead?”
No mistaking that look of fear the flickered on her face, then disappear again into rocky granite.
“Dead. Seems he came across some information, and it caused his death. I was there shortly before he died, shot by a sniper, I think, and there was nothing I could do about it. Any idea what that information was?”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, but either way, if I did or I didn’t the answer would be the same, no. He told me he was a reporter, working on a really big story, and that he would have to go away for a few days. I knew that was his cover story.”
“Were you after that same information?”
“Probably, maybe, I don’t know. Our information was mostly conjecture, a profile built up by our research department, based on his travels, and sightings at a location we know is running a network of agents. The conclusion was that it was not one of ours, so I was assigned to find out exactly who they were.”
“O’Connell would not have told you.”
“Given the circumstances I find myself in, I’m beginning to think that. If you worked with him, then he was on the same side as you, so are you good or bad?”
That was a rather interesting question to be asking me at this late stage, and especially after she had told me basically what I needed to know, bar who she worked for, but that, I was beginning to think, was MI6.
“A rather silly question to ask, don’t you think? It stands to reason that if I was bad, then I would not have left you alive in O’Connell’s flat.”
“Not unless you wanted something from me and set this up as a trap.”
So that was the reason why she kept checking everyone she could see upstairs and monitoring the stairs to see who arrived and left. We were in the right spot to keep tabs on everyone. And I knew her gun wasn’t very far from her hand.
“Obviously you don’t have it, so my work is done here. I suggest you don’t go back to that flat.” I stood. “Your location and probably who you are is compromised. And two men and their attack dogs will be looking for you. Good luck with that.”
“Aren’t you one of those two men attack dog, by your own admission?”
“I’m new and not cynical enough to shoot people out of hand. You’re probably lucky in that regard. And if someone like me can find you, then think what a seasoned professional would be able to do. Have a nice life, what you have left of it.”
This book has finally come back from the Editor, so this month it is going to get a second revision, a second draft for the editor, and beta readers.
…
Today, we’re back in Vienna, with Zoe planning their escape. We’re off to the railway station and catching the train. Unfortunately, Worthington is able to track them and knows exactly where they are, and where to direct his hit squad.
And you guessed it, mayhem is about to erupt in the station. But, as Zoe knows all too well, chaos can be her best friend, and they escape.
Sebastian knows something is afoot with Worthington, because all of a sudden, he has disappeared.
That’s good for Sebastian in one sense, he can go ahead with the interrogations of Isobel and Rupert in his quest to find out where John, and ultimately Zoe, is.
But the thing is, they are disinclined to be helpful in any way shape or form, and Isobel in particular, tells him to bring on the torturers.
Weird maybe, but Sebastian knows she’s probably getting a kick out of it.
…
Today’s writing, with Isobel laughing in the face of danger, 1,905 words, for a total of 43,067.
The architecture along the Bund or Waitan is a living museum of the colonial history of the 1800s. The area centers on a section of Zhongshan Road within the former Shanghai International Settlement.
The word bund means an embankment or an embanked quay. It was initially a British settlement; later the British and American settlements were combined in the International Settlement.
The Bund is a mile-long stretch of waterfront promenade along the Huangpu River. There are 52 buildings of various architectural styles, including Gothic, baroque, and neoclassical styles. The area is often referred to as “the museum of buildings”.
Building styles include Romanesque Revival, Gothic Revival, Renaissance Revival, Baroque Revival, Neo-Classical or Beaux-Arts, as well as a number in Art Deco style.
Having seen these buildings initially the night before, mostly lit up, our viewing this morning was from the land side, and particularly interesting in that the colonial architecture was really fascinating considering their location, but not surprising given Shanghai’s history. A lot of these buildings would be more at home in London, that out in the far east.
The Bund waterfront is about two kilometers long and impossible to cover in the time allowed for this part of the tour.
There was just enough time to get photos of the waterfront and the old buildings.
Some of these buildings had odd shapes, like one on the far right that looks like a bottle opener.
And, for some odd reason, a bull.
On the other side of the water, the sights that had been quite colorful the night before, were equally impressive though somewhat diminished by the haze.
Down here, it is summer, and the last few days have been exhaustingly hot, well, it is summer after all, but tonight it is particularly hot.
So, as I can’t sleep, I’m lying on the couch staring at the ceiling, otherwise known as the cinema of my dreams.
Where am I?
Well, it has to be someplace other than here, of course.
…
I’d seen the Trevi Fountain in the movies, but, until now, it just seemed like any other fountain, only larger.
In reality, it was much more than that, and, so it seemed, it was also that for many other people. Mid-afternoon on a warm sunny day, they were all standing in awe.
Perhaps some were making a wish, and I saw several toss coins in. There would be a lot of money in there and I couldn’t help but think about what sort of job it would be to retrieve it.
Odd too, I thought, if they hadn’t, how many old and rare coins might be somewhere on the floor. Of course, I only thought of the aesthetic value rather than the practicality of the water system that the Romans had built long before such feats of engineering were being contemplated.
No, I was here on holiday.
After years of travelling to a great many places for my job, one that never really gave me any time for sightseeing, I’d decided it was time to indulge in a little tourism.
Before this, I’d been to the Colosseum, the old ruins, the Spanish Steps, and the Parthenon. This was going to wrap up in the afternoon.
“So, are you here on business or pleasure?”
I turned to see Giuseppe, a man I’d had a rather complicated relationship with in the past, and one who is not told I was coming.
But, the fact he was here was no surprise.
It was however surprising that he could sneak up on me. It showed I was slipping, or, more than likely, I was more susceptible to being distracted.
“I am but a humble tourist. I’m sorry but you have been following me for nothing.”
“Why is it I find that difficult to believe?”
Maybe because of what I used to do, but it was not something I would openly admit. And the only reason he was standing there was that someone else had made a mistake, and required a bit of diplomacy to smooth the waters.
Unfortunately, that had destroyed my invisibility in Italy, and probably most of Europe, and these days I spent most of my time in semi-retirement driving a desk. Not entirely put out to pasture.
“As difficult as it might be, having your cover blown makes it impossible to continue, verified by the fact you’re here now. Was it a red flag on my name, or facial recognition?”
“Just remember, we’re watching you.”
A last shake of his head, he walked over to a car parked a host distance away, got in, and drove off. I had no doubt he was not the only one who had been watching me.
“It seems you were right.”
Another voice, This time a woman, and expected. Carla had been waiting in the coffee shop for Giuseppe or someone like him to make an appearance.
“They were not exactly hiding the fact they had me under surveillance.”
She handed me the coffee with a smile.
“That means we can have some fun, does it not?”
That had been the plan. I knew if I entered Italy using the identity I used the last time, it would put them on alert, and prompt a reaction.
“It still doesn’t mean they won’t suspect something is afoot.”
“And since when did you start doubting yourself?”
Since my last operation fell apart because I made one simple mistake that no agent would have made in a million years. But, I had, and it basically ended two careers.
The other person had just handed me the coffee, and unaccountable seemed less angry with me than she should be.
“You of all people should know the answer to that.”
She sighed and took my hand in hers. “What I do know is that there’s a very clever operation afoot and you’re the one who planned it. And far from being on the sidelines, we have a new and very important role to play. And speaking of play, it’s time you and I got into our roles. Oh, and just for the record, I still love you and I know how you feel about me, and before I brought you coffee I made a wish.”
So had I, and it had been answered.
…
It was another of those dreams that might lead somewhere. We’ll just have to wait and see.
So, the first treat for the day is the high-speed magnetic train, something we only learned about after arriving in China and was not on any of the pre-tour documentation.
The train line connects Shanghai Pudong International Airport and Longyang Road Station (in the outskirts of central Pudong). It is the oldest commercial maglev still in operation, and the first commercial high-speed maglev with cruising speed of 431 km/h (268 mph). At full speed, the journey takes 7 minutes and 20 seconds to complete the distance of about 30 km.
Construction of the line began on March 1, 2001 and public services commenced on 1 January 2004. It was built by a joint venture of Siemens and ThyssenKrupp from Kassel, Germany.
But, like visiting anything from a hotel, first we have to drive to the station and because we are leaving at 8, its peak hour traffic, and it takes 1 hour 10 minutes to get there.
The train also has a practical use and that is to take passengers from Shanghai to Pudong international airport as well as for those train enthusiasts, which is what we are.
On the train, it has the same sleek look as the bullet trains, but it is completely different, and you are able to see from the front of the train to the back.
Reputed to travel at 431 kph we take a seat and it is not long before the doors shut, and a loud humming noise is soon replaced by what sounds like an engine, then we start moving. It sounds just like a normal train, and is a lot noisier than a normal bullet train.
Seating on the train was nothing special, as one might expect
It didn’t take long before it hits the advertised speed of 431 kph. This is not sustained for very long, because the distance is on 40 odd kilometers, and the whole trip takes about 7 minutes.
We go to the airport, and then we come back. Is it worth the price, yes. If you are a train enthusiast.
John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.
Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.
If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.
At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.
That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.
Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.
