Is that depression speaking, or am I just tired from all the late nights?
Unlike most writers, authors and bloggers I don’t have a day job. You could say it’s one of the benefits of getting old, this retirement thing, but after a while, not having a reason to get out of bed starts working on your subconscious.
The idea of having a job, and going to work, is a good reason to drag yourself out of bed every morning. And because of this, the idea of sleeping in takes on a whole new meaning.
You know, I’ll just lie here for a few more minutes, and then I’ll get up. Having turned off the alarm, the eyelids flutter, and before you know it, half an hour had passed, and you wake up in fright, knowing you’re going to be late.
In retirement, that doesn’t happen. There is no alarm, there is no guilty pleasure in spending those extra minutes in bed.
Of course, this tardiness, or lack of desire could be because I find I do my best writing in the dead of night, often not getting to bed before 2 a.m. Last night it was a little later because of a story I’m working on came to life with a new idea.
It had been stagnating because it’s part two and whilst I had an idea about where it was going to go, in the end, we’re off in a different direction, and the words flowed. You just don’t stop writing when you hit a vein.
But this isn’t always the case. This morning I have an excuse to stay in bed, but most others I don’t.
Perhaps I should find something else to do, something that will give me that same reason I used to have to get up every morning.
Or maybe I should be more organized in my retirement life, you know, set a schedule and do things according to a timetable. I was never one for being organized, but perhaps it’s time to start.
Just let me lie here for a few more minutes and think about that.
Background material used in creating a location, an explosive situation, and characters to bring it alive – the story – A Score to Settle
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The world-weary agent – back for one more time
…
The Wreckage of Recovery: He’s Back in the Cold, Guarding His Past
In the world of espionage, the only way out is usually in a box. So when a veteran operative manages to survive a mission so catastrophic it nearly took his life, the recovery phase is supposed to be quiet. Long days of physical therapy, sterile white walls, and the slow, agonizing work of stitching a broken mind back together.
But sometimes, the world doesn’t care if you’re healed. Sometimes, the world demands you step back into the fire—especially when the flames are being deliberately fanned by the one person you were trying to forget.
We have a fascinating, terrifying scenario playing out on the global stage, and it centers on a man who desperately needed to stay out of the game, and a woman who refuses to follow advice.
From Scar Tissue to Suit: The Return of the World-Weary
Our protagonist—let’s call him ‘K’—was, until recently, a ghost. His last operation ended in failure, betrayal, and enough collateral damage to earn him a permanent benching. The physical scars have faded, but the echoes of that op—the one that ended in wreckage, not resolution—still ring in his ears. He is a man who knows the cold, bitter taste of failure, and he has spent his recovery time convincing himself he is done with the risk.
But the powers that be, desperate for a protector whose instincts are razor sharp, regardless of his mental state, have dragged him screaming back. His new assignment? Chief Protection Agent for one of the most famous, and most controversial, keynote speakers in the world.
And this is where the wires cross, the circuits fry, and the danger moves from external threat to emotional time bomb.
The Tinder Box and the Stubborn Star
The VIP—the keynote speaker—is currently a primary target. Her message is polarizing, her reach is global, and the threats against her security detail are mounting daily. Intelligence reports have advised strongly against her appearance at the upcoming summit. The venue is being called a tinder box; a complex security nightmare ripe for exploitation.
Yet, she ignores the warnings. She is charismatic, driven, and possesses an almost reckless belief in her own invulnerability. She will step onto that stage, no matter how many alarms are sounding.
And K is the man standing between her and whatever unseen forces are gathering in the shadows.
The History That Threatens the Present
The problem isn’t just the professional risk, the complex logistics, or the very real possibility of a sniper. The problem is the history K shares with the speaker.
Their connection is not just a footnote on a long-forgotten mission brief. It’s the kind of history that makes his hands shake when he reaches for his weapon; the kind of history that compromises judgment and muddies the tactical waters.
Was it a failed romance tangled up in a field investigation? A partnership that blew up under pressure? Whatever the specifics, the remnants of their intense, complicated past linger. For K, guarding her isn’t just a job; it’s a terrifying confrontation with a vulnerability he thought he had successfully buried beneath layers of medical gauze and psychological denial.
Can he protect a woman he once loved, or perhaps still feels deeply connected to, knowing that his last major emotional involvement ended in devastation?
He has been brought in because he is the best. But when the target is also the source of your deepest emotional baggage, being the best is rarely enough. The line between professional duty and catastrophic personal collapse is thinner than ever.
Disaster in the Offing?
K is walking into a situation where the external threat is immense, but the internal threat—his own broken concentration, his lingering guilt, the complicated chemistry between him and the VIP—is arguably far greater.
He knows better than anyone that when personal history is allowed to bleed onto the professional landscape, disaster is almost always the result. He is physically recovered, yes, but mentally? He is still standing precariously amidst the wreckage of his last mission.
The big question hanging over this high-stakes security detail isn’t if the enemy will strike, but rather: Will K be the protector who saves her life, or will his own complicated history with the woman he is guarding be the catalyst for yet another, final, devastating failure?
The clock is ticking. And in this tinder box, the past is about to light the fuse.
That’s an excellent choice! While the major sites like Taormina and the Valley of the Temples are stunning, Sicily’s true soul often lies in its quieter villages, ancient ruins, and dramatic nature reserves.
Here are five places or activities to explore on the road less travelled in Sicily:
1. Cycle and Swim the Egadi Islands (Favignana/Levanzo)
What it is: A small archipelago off the western coast near Trapani. Favignana is the largest and most accessible, and Levanzo is even smaller and more remote.
Why it’s less travelled: While popular with Italian vacationers, they remain largely car-free (especially Levanzo), promoting a slow, relaxed pace of travel that’s rare on the mainland.
Activity: Rent a bicycle upon arriving at Favignana’s port and spend the day cycling to the gorgeous turquoise coves like Cala Rossa and Cala Azzurra. On Levanzo, you can hike to the prehistoric Grotta del Genovese cave, featuring ancient Paleolithic rock carvings.
2. Explore the Labyrinthine Town of Erice
What it is: A beautifully preserved medieval hilltop town perched 750 meters above sea level, overlooking the city of Trapani and the western coast.
Why it’s less travelled: Many tourists bypass it for coastal towns. It’s famous for its atmospheric, narrow, cobbled streets and the frequent, dramatic mist that engulfs the town, making it feel completely isolated and otherworldly.
Activity: Wander the maze-like stone streets, visit the Norman Castello di Venere (Castle of Venus) built on the site of an ancient temple, and taste the famous local almond pastries from the historic Pasticceria Maria Grammatico.
3. Hike or Canyon the Gole dell’Alcantara
What it is: A spectacular series of gorges and canyons carved by the cold Alcantara River, located on the northern slopes of Mount Etna. The walls are made of dark, columnar basalt lava rock.
Why it’s less travelled: This is a nature and adventure destination that requires active participation, pulling visitors away from the historic towns.
Activity: Walk along the floor of the icy river (wetsuits/boots are highly recommended in the cooler months and often available for rent) or descend into the gorge for a dramatic, up-close view of the unique vertical lava formations.
4. Visit the Carved Cave Village of Sperlinga
What it is: A truly remote medieval village in the mountainous heart of Sicily, dominated by a Norman castle carved directly into the rock. The town’s name, Sperlinga, comes from the Greek word for “cave.”
Why it’s less travelled: Located deep in the rugged Sicilian interior, it is far from major tourist routes. It offers an incredible look at ancient rural life.
Activity: Explore the castle with its massive staircase carved from a single piece of rock, and wander through the small network of ancient cave dwellings (grottos) below the main structure that once housed the peasant community.
5. Discover the Hidden Baroque of Scicli
What it is: One of the spectacular Baroque towns of the Val di Noto (a UNESCO area), but significantly quieter and less visited than its neighbours, Noto and Ragusa Ibla.
Why it’s less travelled: It feels genuinely lived-in and has fewer large hotels, offering a relaxed and authentic glimpse of Sicilian life. It’s built into the cliffs of a canyon, giving it a unique layered appearance.
Activity: Stroll the main street, Via Francesco Mormino Penna, admire the honey-colored Baroque palaces and churches, and climb the hill to the top of San Matteo for a panoramic view of the town nestled in the valley.
You know, the sort of day where you have the best of intentions, you get up ready to start attacking the agenda you’ve told yourself you’re finally going to sit down and get on with.
The same set of words you’ve been using to fire up the enthusiasm you really don’t feel much of the time, but this time, have worked yourself into a high degree of positivity just before going to bed.
Everything is set up. All you have to do is bound out of bed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to go.
That was the first mistake. You went to be very late, around 2 am, and when you woke up, it feels like death warmed up. No bright eyes, and definitely no bushy tail.
But, there’s work to be done.
Before that, there’s other stuff, and as each succeeding chore is down, the less enthusiasm feels. I have to clean up the dining room, which, at the moment, is the go-to for all the tools, paint, tile glue, tiles, and everything that’s being used in the latest round of renovations.
Frankly, the room is a mess. I can move a lot of the tools out to the shed now that I’ve finished with them, and the rest, a few pain brushes and the tiling equipment, we be used over the next week.
An hour and a half later, the room is now clean.
I go out to the writing room and look at the list. Good thing I’d didn’t put a time against anything, because if I have, I was now looking at being at least four hours behind.
A phone call made that timeline worse. People always call when you don’t need any calls to distract you. It’s one of the reasons why I have seriously considered getting the landline cut off. And if it wasn’t for the grandchildren, who know they can call on that line, with a number that’s easier to remember than a mobile, I would.
But that of course leaves me open to the half dozen scam calls a day, trying to sell cladding, and solar panels, defend myself from a car crash that I never had, fend off illicit charges from Telcos, and now Amazon. Not forgetting my friend from the NBN who rings once, sometimes twice a day telling me my internet is about to be cut off.
To be honest, I wish they would, but as much as I tell them to cut it off they never do, perhaps knowing that if they do, they can’t scam call me anymore.
By the time I get back to my office, it’s time for a cup of tea.
Or something stronger.
The morning has gone, and the afternoon is half over, and all I’ve done is look at the list.
And since blog posts are on the list, this is why I’m writing this whinge.
How is your day going? I hope it’s better than mine.
Sardinia is famous for its glamorous coastlines, but the island truly shines when you venture inland or to its quieter corners. For a journey on the road less travelled, here are five of the best places and activities:
1. Hike the Gola Su Gorropu Gorge
What it is: Often called the “Grand Canyon of Europe,” this is one of the deepest gorges on the continent, carved by the Flumineddu River in the Supramonte mountain range.
Why it’s less travelled: It requires a moderate-to-challenging hike (or a 4×4 transfer) to access, keeping the crowds away. This activity takes you deep into Sardinia’s rugged, wild heart, offering a dramatic contrast to the beaches.
Activity: Trek through the immense canyon walls, navigating the huge boulders within the gorge floor.
2. Meet the Albino Donkeys of Asinara National Park
What it is: A protected, uninhabited island off the northwest coast, formerly a maximum-security prison and penal colony.
Why it’s less travelled: Access is restricted to preserve the environment. Its primary inhabitants are the rare wild albino donkeys (known as Asinara donkeys), horses, and other wildlife.
Activity: Take a ferry from Stintino or Porto Torres and explore the island by bike (or e-bike), following the paths that connect coves, ancient watchtowers, and abandoned prison infrastructure.
3. Explore the Dunes of Piscinas
What it is: Located in the Arbus area on the west coast, this is the largest desert in Europe, with vast, rolling golden dunes that stretch for miles and meet the sea.
Why it’s less travelled: It’s a remote area, part of the old mining region, far from the main tourist hubs. The landscape is unique, offering a “wild-west” feel.
Activity: Wander through the immense dunes, admire the rust-red lagoons, and spot the abandoned mining carts illuminated by the Milky Way at night.
4. Step Back in Time at Nuraghe Su Nuraxi
What it is: The largest and most complete example of the nuraghi, the massive stone defence structures erected by the ancient Nuragic civilisation (1800–700 BCE). It is a UNESCO World Heritage site located inland in the village of Barumini.
Why it’s less travelled: It’s located deep in the countryside, away from the coastal routes. While famous, it draws a different crowd focused on deep history and archaeology.
Activity: Take a mandatory guided tour to explore the ruins of the fortified complex, which has re-emerged in its entirety, offering a window into one of the oldest civilisations in the Mediterranean.
5. Walk the Streets of the Open-Air Museum of San Sperate
What it is: A small, vibrant agricultural village about 15 minutes from Cagliari, transformed into an open-air art gallery.
Why it’s less travelled: It’s often overlooked by tourists heading straight for the beaches. Since the 1960s, local and international artists have covered the exterior walls of homes and shops with colourful murals depicting social, political, and historical themes.
Activity: Get “lost” walking the quaint streets, admiring over 200 murals and the basalt sculptures by local artist Pinuccio Sciola, who started the town’s artistic renaissance.
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’.
Background material used in creating a location, an explosive situation, and characters to bring it alive – the story – A Score to Settle
…
The world-weary agent – back for one more time
…
The Wreckage of Recovery: He’s Back in the Cold, Guarding His Past
In the world of espionage, the only way out is usually in a box. So when a veteran operative manages to survive a mission so catastrophic it nearly took his life, the recovery phase is supposed to be quiet. Long days of physical therapy, sterile white walls, and the slow, agonizing work of stitching a broken mind back together.
But sometimes, the world doesn’t care if you’re healed. Sometimes, the world demands you step back into the fire—especially when the flames are being deliberately fanned by the one person you were trying to forget.
We have a fascinating, terrifying scenario playing out on the global stage, and it centers on a man who desperately needed to stay out of the game, and a woman who refuses to follow advice.
From Scar Tissue to Suit: The Return of the World-Weary
Our protagonist—let’s call him ‘K’—was, until recently, a ghost. His last operation ended in failure, betrayal, and enough collateral damage to earn him a permanent benching. The physical scars have faded, but the echoes of that op—the one that ended in wreckage, not resolution—still ring in his ears. He is a man who knows the cold, bitter taste of failure, and he has spent his recovery time convincing himself he is done with the risk.
But the powers that be, desperate for a protector whose instincts are razor sharp, regardless of his mental state, have dragged him screaming back. His new assignment? Chief Protection Agent for one of the most famous, and most controversial, keynote speakers in the world.
And this is where the wires cross, the circuits fry, and the danger moves from external threat to emotional time bomb.
The Tinder Box and the Stubborn Star
The VIP—the keynote speaker—is currently a primary target. Her message is polarizing, her reach is global, and the threats against her security detail are mounting daily. Intelligence reports have advised strongly against her appearance at the upcoming summit. The venue is being called a tinder box; a complex security nightmare ripe for exploitation.
Yet, she ignores the warnings. She is charismatic, driven, and possesses an almost reckless belief in her own invulnerability. She will step onto that stage, no matter how many alarms are sounding.
And K is the man standing between her and whatever unseen forces are gathering in the shadows.
The History That Threatens the Present
The problem isn’t just the professional risk, the complex logistics, or the very real possibility of a sniper. The problem is the history K shares with the speaker.
Their connection is not just a footnote on a long-forgotten mission brief. It’s the kind of history that makes his hands shake when he reaches for his weapon; the kind of history that compromises judgment and muddies the tactical waters.
Was it a failed romance tangled up in a field investigation? A partnership that blew up under pressure? Whatever the specifics, the remnants of their intense, complicated past linger. For K, guarding her isn’t just a job; it’s a terrifying confrontation with a vulnerability he thought he had successfully buried beneath layers of medical gauze and psychological denial.
Can he protect a woman he once loved, or perhaps still feels deeply connected to, knowing that his last major emotional involvement ended in devastation?
He has been brought in because he is the best. But when the target is also the source of your deepest emotional baggage, being the best is rarely enough. The line between professional duty and catastrophic personal collapse is thinner than ever.
Disaster in the Offing?
K is walking into a situation where the external threat is immense, but the internal threat—his own broken concentration, his lingering guilt, the complicated chemistry between him and the VIP—is arguably far greater.
He knows better than anyone that when personal history is allowed to bleed onto the professional landscape, disaster is almost always the result. He is physically recovered, yes, but mentally? He is still standing precariously amidst the wreckage of his last mission.
The big question hanging over this high-stakes security detail isn’t if the enemy will strike, but rather: Will K be the protector who saves her life, or will his own complicated history with the woman he is guarding be the catalyst for yet another, final, devastating failure?
The clock is ticking. And in this tinder box, the past is about to light the fuse.
It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone. It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air. In summer, it was the best time of the day. When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.
On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’. This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.
She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable. The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day. So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.
It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her. It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I sat in my usual corner. Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner. There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around. I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria. All she did was serve coffee and cake.
When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?” She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.
“I am this morning. I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating. I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise. I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”
“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me. I have had a lot worse. I think she is simply jealous.”
It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be. “Why?”
“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”
It made sense, even if it was not true. “Perhaps if I explained…”
Maria shook her head. “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole. My grandfather had many expressions, David. If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her. Before she goes home.”
Interesting advice. Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma. What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?
“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.
“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much. Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone. It was an intense conversation. I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell. It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”
“It is indeed. And you’re right. She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one. She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office. Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”
And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful. She had liked Maria the moment she saw her. We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived. I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.
She sighed. “I am glad I am just a waitress. Your usual coffee and cake?”
“Yes, please.”
Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.
I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one. What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.
There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it. We were still married, just not living together.
This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her. She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.
It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.
There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd. She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right. It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.
But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings. But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.
Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart. I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit. The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.
I knew I was not a priority. Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.
And finally, there was Alisha. Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around. It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties.
At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata. Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.
Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.
When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan. She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores. We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated. It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.
It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard. I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.
She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top. She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.
Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak. I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.
Neither spoke nor looked at each other. I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”
Maria nodded and left.
“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests. I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence? All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”
My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.
“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us. There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”
“Why come at all. A phone call would have sufficed.”
“I had to see you, talk to you. At least we have had a chance to do that. I’m sorry about yesterday. I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her. I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”
An apology was the last thing I expected.
“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington. I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction. We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”
“You’re not coming with me?” She sounded disappointed.
“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. You are so much better doing your job without me. I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband. Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less. You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it. I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”
It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement. Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points. I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever. The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.
Then, her expression changed. “Is that what you want?”
“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways. But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”
“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”
That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud. “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan. You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy. While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother. She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right. Why do you think I gave you such a hard time? You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously. But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”
“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”
“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”
“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”
I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead. Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers. Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen. Gianna didn’t like Susan either.
Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her. She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.
She stood. “Last chance.”
“Forever?”
She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face. “Of course not. I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship. I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”
I had been trying. “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan. I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”
She frowned at me. “As you wish.” She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table. “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home. Please make it sooner rather than later. Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”
That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car. I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.
There is nothing worse than, when lying in bed unable to get to sleep, you hear every noise in the house and out, but none worse than a dripping tap.
It’s often not because someone forgot to turn the tap off, but because a washer is on its last legs.
There are taps for the fallen brave, but aside from the fact that is the name of a piece of music, I think it’s also the title of a film. But taps itself is a bugle call at dusk, and also played at military funerals.
Then there’s that income stream that you can tap into, other than your next-door neighbour’s power supply.
But what would be far more interesting than to tap into a phone line and listen in? Even though eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, you could learn something you didn’t want to know.
Then we can go back to the 1930s and a series of films that starred one of my favourite actors Fred Astaire, who was, of course, a tap dancer, along with Ginger Rogers.
In fact, my middle granddaughter is quite a good tap dancer.
And, lastly, was that a tap on the door, or a tap in the window?
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.
I. Introduction: The Attritional Landscape of Late 1915
By October 1915, the character of the First World War on the Western Front had solidified into a grueling stalemate defined by static trench warfare, a condition established rapidly following the “Race to the Sea” in late 1914.1 The 800-kilometer line of fortified trenches, stretching from the North Sea to the Swiss frontier, dictated a war of attrition where the defender generally held a decisive advantage due to the revolution in firepower outpacing mobility.2
This specific period followed the costly and ultimately unsuccessful Franco-British offensives of September 1915, notably the Battle of Loos and the Third Battle of Artois.4 While these large-scale attacks inflicted severe casualties, they failed to achieve an operational breakthrough.6 Following these failures, October represented a strategic pause, compelling both sides—the Germans primarily on the defensive throughout the year—to prioritise maintenance, consolidation, and learning from the “tough learning experience” of offensive warfare.7
The tactical consequences of the earlier offensives were substantial. The initial British success at Neuve Chapelle in March 1915, achieved via a short, concentrated artillery bombardment, demonstrated a clear method for overcoming a single trench line.5 However, Allied command incorrectly concluded that mere volume of fire was the key, leading to the doctrine of massive, prolonged barrages. Conversely, German command immediately recognised the necessity of deep, redundant defensive systems, prompting a rapid divergence in trench quality.5 By October 1915, Allied trenches, particularly those taken over from the French, were frequently rudimentary, poorly drained, and in a “weak state of defence,” demanding immediate, dangerous labour details to upgrade the infrastructure.8
Furthermore, October marked the meteorological transition toward winter, introducing the environment itself as a critical mechanism of attrition. The onset of cold, persistent dampness led to widespread flooding, exacerbated by the destruction of pre-war drainage ditches by constant shelling.7 For the infantry soldier, this environmental degradation often superseded direct enemy action as the primary danger. The resulting non-battle attrition, especially conditions like Trench Foot, became a systemic military challenge, requiring constant attention and effort to mitigate the loss of manpower.11 The overall soldier experience during this week was highly variable, ranging from “invariably hellish” salients like Ypres to “quiet” sectors operating under an informal “live and let live” system, though even these peaceful fronts accrued daily casualties from snipers, gas, and disease.2
II. The Weekly Rhythm: Rotation, Fatigue, and Logistics
The experience of a soldier during a specific week in October 1915 was defined entirely by the rotation system, a necessary measure acknowledging that a “prolonged stay in the first trench was inhumane”.14 This structured cycle allowed for the management of physical and psychological fatigue, ensuring that combat forces were regularly replaced and refreshed, though true rest was often scarce.
A typical British or Commonwealth infantry rotation cycle involved moving through four positions along the line: the Front Line, the Support Line, the Reserve Line, and a period of Rest/Hinterland duty.2 A unit would typically spend 2 to 4 days in the Front Line before rotating backward.14 This period was the most dangerous, demanding constant vigilance and work, including ‘Stand-to’ rituals and continuous maintenance of the parapet.16 During the following periods in the Support and Reserve lines (totalling approximately four to eight days), soldiers served as defence in depth and were heavily engaged in crucial tasks: digging new systems, constructing fortifications, and serving as strenuous working parties to supply the front.2
The goal of the rotation was to achieve a minimum of seven days in a dedicated Rest/Recuperation period, essential for restoring fighting fitness. During this phase, soldiers benefited from crucial measures like undisturbed sleep, the opportunity for a bath, and regular hot meals.15 These periods also included essential training and drill.18 However, even when rotated out of the absolute front, the respite was not necessarily idle; men were constantly detailed for strenuous labor, such as communication trench digging or assisting logistics, meaning they were often “up every night”.19 This constant high level of physical activity, combined with sleep deprivation, resulted in a state of chronic exhaustion, which was a recognized predisposing factor for severe medical conditions such as Trench Foot.11
The flow of supplies was paramount and dictated the nightly rhythm of the rear areas. All vital logistics—rations, water, and ammunition—were moved up the line after dusk under the cover of darkness.2 This involved long, dangerous carrying parties traversing miles of winding communication trenches from rear-area field kitchens and depots.20 Despite sophisticated initial logistical plans relying on rail transport 21, the final miles relied on manual conveyance. The inadequate final-mile logistics meant that rations, though generous on paper, often arrived cold, tinned, or spoiled, failing to provide optimal nourishment.15 Furthermore, drinking water, transported in repurposed containers like petrol cans, had to be purified chemically, resulting in a taste that forced soldiers to consume most water in the form of cold tea.15 The difficulty in providing hot, nutritious food and clean water weakened troop immunity and morale just as the cold, wet conditions of October began to set in.22
Table 1 details the cyclical demands placed on infantry units during this attritional phase of the war.
Table 1: Typical Western Front Infantry Rotation Cycle (October 1915)
High exposure to Minenwerfer and snipers; constant dampness/mud 9
Support Line
4 days
Reserve for Front Line, Carrying Parties, Drainage/Dugout Labour, Equipment Supply 2
Still subjected to sporadic artillery fire; heavy fatigue work at night 19
Reserve Line/Billet
8 days
Training, Deep fatigue work (e.g., communications digging), Cleaning, Rest/Sleep 2
Opportunity for hot food and bath 15; billeting conditions often poor 19
III. The 24-Hour Cycle: Routine, Boredom, and the Fear of Dawn
Life in the front line was characterised by a strict, repetitive schedule where movement and labour were rigidly controlled by the risk of observation and fire. This routine was simultaneously mundane and terrifying.16
The day commenced approximately 30 minutes before sunrise with the critical ritual known as “Stand-to arms,” requiring every soldier to man the firing step with rifles and fixed bayonets.16 Doctrine held that dawn was the most likely time for an enemy attack. Paradoxically, because both sides fully manned their defences, outright dawn assaults were rare, as commanders recognised the suicidal nature of attacking an alerted garrison.18 However, this expectation of attack often culminated not in an infantry rush, but in a concentrated artillery barrage known as the “morning hate,” designed to strike bunched-up infantry outside the protective confines of their dugouts.18
Once the morning firing subsided, the daily routine transitioned into maintenance and inspection. This included weapons cleaning, kit inspections, and breakfast, which often consisted of tinned rations and the highly valued tot of rum.16 During daylight hours, nearly all work was conducted below the parapet to avoid snipers and observation.23 This included essential maintenance like filling sandbags, deepening trenches, and repairing duckboards.17 Interspersed with these fatigue duties, periods of downtime offered a vital psychological release, allowing soldiers to read, play cards, or write letters and journals, maintaining a crucial connection to normalcy amidst the “near-constant horror and death”.17
The imposition of a rigid daily routine was essential for imposing discipline and order amidst the inherent chaos of static warfare.16 Small, predictable comforts, such as the rum ration and post from home 16, functioned as vital psychological buffers. The capacity of a unit to maintain this routine and deliver necessary logistics, therefore, had a direct, measurable effect on morale and cohesion, which were essential components of effective resistance in attritional warfare.26
As visibility faded, the day’s routine culminated in the second ‘Stand-to’ at dusk.16 With the cover of darkness, activity intensified dramatically. The trenches became a hive of motion, facilitating troop rotations, the dangerous logistics of carrying rations and water, and the retrieval of mail.16 Engineering parties worked continuously to repair the parapets, maintain wire defences, and lay duckboards, preparing the line for the dangers of the ensuing night and the next day.17
IV. Night Operations: The Real Battle for No Man’s Land
Under the cover of darkness, No Man’s Land transformed from an exposed wasteland into a critical, intensely contested operational theatre.2 Night operations involved specialised patrols, raids, and constant construction, crucial for both defence and intelligence gathering.
Movement of troops, supplies, and reconnaissance was strictly limited to the night.2 Troops deployed specialised patrols with two main objectives. Reconnaissance patrols operated cautiously, seeking to detect enemy working parties, confirm the integrity of friendly wire, and occasionally cut enemy telephone cables, generally trying to avoid engagement.27 In contrast, fighting patrols had an aggressive mission: they actively engaged enemy patrols, disrupted enemy reconnaissance, and sought to eliminate forward positions like listening posts, thereby wrestling the nighttime initiative away from the opponent.27 Both sides also established listening posts in No Man’s Land, where sentries sought to detect the sounds of enemy movement or indications of an impending attack.2
By October 1915, trench raiding had become an established and accepted component of trench warfare.26 Raiding parties, typically small groups of up to twenty highly trained soldiers 26, would sneak across No Man’s Land with the goal of entering the enemy trenches to gather intelligence, capture prisoners (a primary objective), or seize weaponry.26 These missions were exceptionally perilous, often resulting in high casualty rates due to counter-patrols or organised defence fire.28 For the close-quarters fighting within the confined trenches, soldiers often abandoned cumbersome rifles in favour of improvised, brutal weaponry like clubs, knives, and knuckledusters.29
Beyond the tactical gains, raiding served a critical psychological purpose in the war of attrition. Frequent raiding was intended to “pressurise those in the opposing trenches and prevent them from ever truly being able to relax at night”.26 Since the entire logistics and maintenance structure depended on the cover of darkness 2, successful enemy patrols or raids could cripple a unit’s operational capacity. Therefore, the necessity of aggressive, high-risk patrols underscores that the continuous battle for the front was fundamentally fought at night, in stealth and close combat.
Concurrently, subterranean warfare continued below No Man’s Land. Specialist tunnelling companies, often composed of men with civilian mining experience, worked tirelessly to dig deep tunnels beneath enemy positions. These tunnels were packed with high explosives and detonated to breach or destroy the enemy trench line, creating craters that could be rapidly converted into advanced defensive positions.2 This high-risk activity was constant in specific geographical sectors, such as the slopes of Vimy Ridge.4
V. Mechanisms of Attrition: The Constant Threat Environment
The week in the trenches was characterised by a pervasive threat environment where death was typically delivered not by massed infantry assaults but by random, persistent weaponry. The majority of casualties on the Western Front were caused by artillery fire, shrapnel, and explosive blast effects.1
Artillery bombardment was generally sporadic and unpredictable, even in sectors not officially designated as “active”.13 Commanders understood that continuous massive bombardments were wasteful and often ineffective against dug-in troops.14 However, shelling was a daily feature, supporting every patrol and raid, and used specifically for daily harassment, such as the aforementioned “morning hate”.17 Soldiers mitigated this threat by constructing deep trenches, bunkers, and dugouts, constantly adjusting their defences in a continuous arms race against high explosives.2
A particularly terrifying localised weapon in 1915 was the German Minenwerfer (trench mortar).9 These heavy mortars delivered shells that looked like “an oil drum,” exploding with a terrific report.9 Their steep trajectory allowed them to circumvent the conventional protection afforded by trench parapets, specifically targeting fire bays and dugouts.30 One soldier noted that his sector was less troubled by conventional artillery, but that the enemy “make up for that with trench mortars and rifle grenades”.9 This highlights a tactical imbalance in 1915, often referred to as the “mortar gap,” where German specialisation in trench siege weaponry forced the British to continually upgrade their rudimentary trench designs under fire.7
Sniping and persistent machine gun fire enforced a state of permanent vigilance during daylight hours.16 The fixed defensive positions of trench warfare maximised the effectiveness of the machine gun, a “killing machine” with a high rate of fire that could be sustained for hours.29 Sniping accounted for persistent daily casualties even in quiet sectors, compelling soldiers to adhere to strict movement discipline below the parapet.2
Following the first effective deployment of chlorine gas at Ypres in April 1915 7 and the British use of gas at Loos in September 29, chemical warfare was an evolving and terrifying threat. By October 1915, rudimentary protective measures were in place, including linen masks soaked in water, improvised respirators, and the eventual distribution of cumbersome gas hoods/helmets.29 Gas alarms, typically horns and whistles, were crucial for giving troops the necessary seconds to don this protective equipment.29
The analysis of casualty data reveals a critical characteristic of this period: the cumulative toll of low-level attrition. Even in relatively quiet periods in early 1916, before the launch of the Somme Offensive, the British suffered over 107,000 casualties without engaging in any major battles.
…
Table 2: Sources of Daily Attrition and Risk (October 1915)
Threat Category
Weapon/Source
Impact/Frequency in 1915
Tactical Significance
Direct Combat
Artillery Shells/Shrapnel
Majority of total casualties; unpredictable area denial. Sporadic but highly destructive.
Primary method of attrition; limits daytime movement and forces deep dugouts.
Localized Siege
Trench Mortars (Minenwerfer), Rifle Grenades
Highly disruptive localized attacks against specific fire bays and dugouts.
Daily casualties even in ‘quiet’ sectors; enforced low profile during day.
Enforced movement discipline; constant state of vulnerability.
Chemical Warfare
Chlorine/Tear Gas
Rising, sporadic threat following 1915 deployments (Ypres, Loos).
Requires constant vigilance and use of cumbersome, improvised protective gear.
Non-Combat
Trench Foot, Trench Fever (Lice), Rats
High rates of illness leading to extended incapacitation (months).
Undermines unit strength and morale; caused by cold, dampness, and exhaustion.
VI. The Environment and Physical Toll: October’s Misery
As October progressed, the shift in weather ensured that the physical environment became as dangerous as the enemy. The trenches, often hastily constructed, had poor drainage and were quickly destroyed by artillery fire.7 The persistent autumn rains led to widespread flooding, with soldiers describing conditions where they lived in “mud and water” that rose “steadily till knee deep”.7 One account detailed men having to retreat from flooded positions, sometimes having to wade through two feet of water.7
This cold, persistent dampness was the primary driver of Trench Foot, a debilitating condition caused by the stagnation of venous blood in the feet.11 This condition, worsened by chronic fatigue 11, could rapidly progress to gangrene, necessitating amputation.32 Prophylaxis required constant, systematic effort, including regular foot and boot inspection, frequent sock changes, use of specialised talc (“French powder”), and the greasing of boots.11 The widespread attempt to use duckboards to mitigate the standing water often failed, as the boards were either floated away by heavy rains or simply trodden into the thick Somme mud.11
The unsanitary environment was amplified by ubiquitous pests. Rats, bloated from feeding on the waste and corpses of stationary armies, grew “as big as cats” and were known to gnaw on wounded or sleeping soldiers, occasionally causing wounds severe enough for hospitalisation.12 Lice were a constant tormentor, responsible for transmitting Trench Fever, a persistent illness characterised by debilitating headaches, fevers, and muscle pain that could pull a soldier away from the front for months.2
The trenches were an overwhelming sensory experience dominated by the stench of war. The smell was generated by a pervasive mix of “stinking mud mingled with rotting corpses, lingering gas, open latrines, wet clothes and unwashed bodies”.17 Sanitation was a continuous struggle, requiring strict, though often poorly executed, measures such as purifying drinking water and digging small waste pits.15
The systemic failure of early trench design and logistics, particularly in dealing with dampness and sanitation, was recognised as the cause of widespread non-combat casualties. The army authorities realised that maintaining health was crucial for retaining fighting capacity.15 This period starkly highlighted the disparity in positional warfare; while Allied soldiers struggled with hastily dug trenches, accounts suggest that German trenches were often initially better constructed, reflecting their earlier commitment to long-term defence and fortified dugouts.19 The inherent hardship of fighting defensively from positions often materially inferior to those of their opponents compounded the physical toll on the Allied soldier in October 1915.
VII. The Psychological Warfare of Endurance
The relentless, localised violence, combined with the extreme physical degradation of the environment, placed soldiers under extraordinary psychological pressure. This continuous stress environment led to a grim, self-protective normalisation of horror; one private recounted that while seeing men killed immediately initially felt “rather funny,” they “got used to the shrapnel and Bullets” as time wore on.25
The profound psychological strain of this unique form of warfare led to the formal recognition of ‘shell shock’ in 1915.33 Although initially misdiagnosed as physical injury resulting from bomb blast, medical practitioners soon realised that the “mental strain was considerable” even for those not directly exposed to heavy shellfire.33 The symptoms were varied and severe: uncontrollable shaking and trembling, being “dazed” after bombardment, or, in acute cases, men losing “control of everything” and being seen “singing” as they were taken out of the line.34 By 1916, hundreds of thousands of men would suffer from this condition.33
The high incidence of shell shock provided empirical evidence that the most pervasive form of combat activity in October 1915 was the psychological warfare of continuous endurance. Soldiers lived with the constant expectation of a “sudden, random, violent end,” even in designated quiet sectors.13 This anxiety, compounded by chronic sleep deprivation and physical exhaustion, caused rapid psychological breakdown.35
To counter this debilitating strain, soldiers relied on internal and institutional coping mechanisms. Routine provided structure 16, while camaraderie—even occasional, localised truces for collecting the wounded—provided human connection.36 Personal reflection through letters and diaries was a crucial outlet.17 Some soldiers developed a powerful sense of moral justification for their ordeal, such as the soldier who felt that he pitied the civilians who would “never have seen or known the things that we have seen and known”.37 Ultimately, however, the volume of non-battle attrition, both physical (disease) and psychological (shell shock), presented a continuous challenge to the military apparatus’s ability to maintain a functional frontline force.
VIII. Conclusion: October 1915 as a Microcosm of Attritional Warfare
Activity in the trenches during a typical week in October 1915 was dominated by a high-intensity, localised battle for survival, characterised by rigid routine and the constant struggle against systemic attrition. This period marked the deepening recognition of the demands of static warfare following the failed summer and autumn offensives.
A soldier’s week was highly segmented, demanding 2-4 days in the front line defined by the fear of the Minenwerfer and snipers, mitigated only by the discipline of “Stand-to” and constant labour.9 Nights were operational peaks, driven by the need for logistical resupply and the lethal game of patrolling No Man’s Land for intelligence and psychological harassment.2 The bulk of the week was dedicated to recovering from the physical and psychological toll in the support and reserve lines, although true rest was often compromised by unavoidable, exhausting labour parties.19
The analysis demonstrates that the primary attrition sources were not necessarily large-scale battles, which were absent during this strategic pause, but rather the cumulative effect of constant exposure: random shelling, disease vectors (lice, rats), and the debilitating impact of the cold, wet environment.2 The environmental degradation is linked directly to physical collapse, with dampness and fatigue combining to produce widespread Trench Foot, a systemic casualty problem.11
In summary, the week in October 1915 was a crucible, simultaneously characterised by the boredom of routine and the omnipresent threat of a sudden, violent end. It was a transitional phase where tactical and logistical lessons—particularly the necessity of permanent, deep dugouts and counter-siege weaponry—were being painfully learned by all belligerents, hardening the grim reality that would define the warfare of the Western Front for the years to come.