We were in London in Summer, it was a fine afternoon, going into the evening and we decided to get on the London Eye. As you can see from the clock it was near 7:00 pm.
This photo was taken as we were coming down.
Those long evenings were quite remarkable, not in the least going to a pub and sinking a few pints! There was one such pub not far from Charing Cross Station
The pub was called ‘The Princess of Wales’
And still be light enough to find your way home.
We were in London in Summer, it was a fine afternoon, going into the evening and we decided to get on the London Eye. As you can see from the clock it was near 7:00 pm.
This photo was taken as we were coming down.
Those long evenings were quite remarkable, not in the least going to a pub and sinking a few pints! There was one such pub not far from Charing Cross Station
The pub was called ‘The Princess of Wales’
And still be light enough to find your way home.
Whilst I found this tree house to be interesting, it seems to be far from practical because there was little to keep the wind and rain out, though I suppose, in the book, that might not be such a problem.
Be that as it may, and if it was relatively waterproof, then the furnishings would probably survive, and one had to also assume that much of the furnishings, such as the writing desk below, would have washed up as debris from the shipwreck.
The stove and oven would have to be built by hand, and it is ‘remarkable’ such well-fitting stones were available. It doesn’t look like it’s been used for a while judging by the amount of gree on it. Perhaps it is not in a waterproof area.
The dining table and the shelf in the background have that rough-hewn look about them
A bit of man-made equipment here for drawing water from the stream
And though not made in the era of electricity, there is an opportunity to use the water wheel to do more than it appears to be doing
And tucked away in a corner the all-important study where one can read, or play a little music on the organ. One could say, for the period, one had all the comforts of home.
Whilst I found this tree house to be interesting, it seems to be far from practical because there was little to keep the wind and rain out, though I suppose, in the book, that might not be such a problem.
Be that as it may, and if it was relatively waterproof, then the furnishings would probably survive, and one had to also assume that much of the furnishings, such as the writing desk below, would have washed up as debris from the shipwreck.
The stove and oven would have to be built by hand, and it is ‘remarkable’ such well-fitting stones were available. It doesn’t look like it’s been used for a while judging by the amount of gree on it. Perhaps it is not in a waterproof area.
The dining table and the shelf in the background have that rough-hewn look about them
A bit of man-made equipment here for drawing water from the stream
And though not made in the era of electricity, there is an opportunity to use the water wheel to do more than it appears to be doing
And tucked away in a corner the all-important study where one can read, or play a little music on the organ. One could say, for the period, one had all the comforts of home.
What if … (2)
…
So, today’s seeming straightforward news event that didn’t make the front page, nor the next three,
is about the death of a man and a woman who had just begun dating, their bodies being found in an ordinary suburban house.
The police received a call regarding their welfare and upon visiting the house, found the man and woman lying side by side on the floor, deceased.
The police were not treating the deaths as suspicious.
So …
What if …
The first thing that leaps off the page is the fact the police are not treating the deaths as suspicious.
That’s exactly the moment that investigators should be looking at the situation a little more closely because, in our scenario, the scene has a staged look about it, and on the surface, it appears to be a simple case of a dual drug overdose.
Firstly, the friends of the two were not aware they were ‘doing drugs’ and if they were, lying on the floor at home was the last place it would happen.
No drugs were found in the house, and the sniffer dogs could find no trace of any except on the bodies.
Secondly, in the upstairs office, a laptop computer was missing, only the cable and mouse were still sitting on the table. Curiously both their cell phones were missing, but nothing else. Between them, they had about 500 pounds, which meant, if there was foul play, the perpetrator had very specific items to take.
Nothing else was disturbed.
Thirdly, a quick examination of the bodies showed the woman had bruising to her neck, a sign that someone had held her in a choke hold perhaps, but the coroner would have a closer look.
Fourthly, a simple check on the names comes back with an access denied flag on the male.
That, as far as Detective Chief Inspector Barnes was concerned, was enough to change the investigation from death by misadventure, to a suspicious, possible murder.
What if … (2)
…
So, today’s seeming straightforward news event that didn’t make the front page, nor the next three,
is about the death of a man and a woman who had just begun dating, their bodies being found in an ordinary suburban house.
The police received a call regarding their welfare and upon visiting the house, found the man and woman lying side by side on the floor, deceased.
The police were not treating the deaths as suspicious.
So …
What if …
The first thing that leaps off the page is the fact the police are not treating the deaths as suspicious.
That’s exactly the moment that investigators should be looking at the situation a little more closely because, in our scenario, the scene has a staged look about it, and on the surface, it appears to be a simple case of a dual drug overdose.
Firstly, the friends of the two were not aware they were ‘doing drugs’ and if they were, lying on the floor at home was the last place it would happen.
No drugs were found in the house, and the sniffer dogs could find no trace of any except on the bodies.
Secondly, in the upstairs office, a laptop computer was missing, only the cable and mouse were still sitting on the table. Curiously both their cell phones were missing, but nothing else. Between them, they had about 500 pounds, which meant, if there was foul play, the perpetrator had very specific items to take.
Nothing else was disturbed.
Thirdly, a quick examination of the bodies showed the woman had bruising to her neck, a sign that someone had held her in a choke hold perhaps, but the coroner would have a closer look.
Fourthly, a simple check on the names comes back with an access denied flag on the male.
That, as far as Detective Chief Inspector Barnes was concerned, was enough to change the investigation from death by misadventure, to a suspicious, possible murder.
Whilst a rather important place for the French, for us visitors, it has a convenient hotel located just behind the square, and an underground, or Metro station, underneath.
Added to that was equally convenient cafes, one of which, The Cafe Republique, we had dinner every night. The service and food were excellent, and we had no problems with the language barriers.
At the top of the monument is a bronze statue of Marianne, said to be the personification of France.
Surrounding Marianne is three more statues, representing liberty, equality, and fraternity.
At the base is a lion guarding what is said to be a ballot box.
I was told a long time ago I wasn’t perfect, and it didn’t bother me. Then.
But it’s true. I don’t always get it right, sometimes I get annoyed and say things in the heat of the moment that perhaps shouldn’t be said, and sometimes I can be ‘difficult’.
I’ll be the first in line to say my blog isn’t perfect, in fact sometimes it bothers me some of the bits and pieces that go up because I doubt if they’re interesting, at the time, to anyone but me.
Perhaps it’s because I chose to be a writer.
It’s a hard slog at the best of times. Getting ideas, carving out time to write, having to live a normal life as distinct from that of living in a garret, on your own, writing that next great Nobel prize for literature, or is it a Pulitzer?
I don’t get that, I don’t have that, and I don’t want that.
For those of us living on that ‘edge’ of finding time to write, maintain a blog, keep up with social media, do the daily chores and watch some television, something has to give.
So, I’m not getting any writing done if I’m working on the blog, or I’m on social media. If I’m doing the blog, something else has to be sacrificed.
Mostly it’s my blog. My blog is about writing stuff, visiting places that have been or will be used in stories, and once, a recalcitrant cat who sadly has passed on. It also has running episodic stories, usually four different at a time.
It also had about 2,000 past posts. When I don’t get the time to do my blog, which has been mostly for the last three months off and on, I sometimes repackage or repeat past posts, just to keep it ticking over, much like a scoreboard.
It is also a tool for advertising my books and stories, and what’s coming (if only I stopped using social media) and these are repeated every four or five days. It’d the equivalent of advertising because I can’t afford other advertising. If this is an annoyance, I’m sorry.
And just so everyone knows, I will always keep writing, not because I want to become the next James Patterson, though it would be nice, I write because I want to, and it pleases me when someone reads something I write, and they like it. It is the greatest compliment of all, and I believe in encouragement. It’s why I spend a lot of that social media time highlighting other writers so they can build a following.
After all, we are all in the same boat, it would just be nice if we were all rowing in the same direction.
Whilst a rather important place for the French, for us visitors, it has a convenient hotel located just behind the square, and an underground, or Metro station, underneath.
Added to that was equally convenient cafes, one of which, The Cafe Republique, we had dinner every night. The service and food were excellent, and we had no problems with the language barriers.
At the top of the monument is a bronze statue of Marianne, said to be the personification of France.
Surrounding Marianne is three more statues, representing liberty, equality, and fraternity.
At the base is a lion guarding what is said to be a ballot box.
I was told a long time ago I wasn’t perfect, and it didn’t bother me. Then.
But it’s true. I don’t always get it right, sometimes I get annoyed and say things in the heat of the moment that perhaps shouldn’t be said, and sometimes I can be ‘difficult’.
I’ll be the first in line to say my blog isn’t perfect, in fact sometimes it bothers me some of the bits and pieces that go up because I doubt if they’re interesting, at the time, to anyone but me.
Perhaps it’s because I chose to be a writer.
It’s a hard slog at the best of times. Getting ideas, carving out time to write, having to live a normal life as distinct from that of living in a garret, on your own, writing that next great Nobel prize for literature, or is it a Pulitzer?
I don’t get that, I don’t have that, and I don’t want that.
For those of us living on that ‘edge’ of finding time to write, maintain a blog, keep up with social media, do the daily chores and watch some television, something has to give.
So, I’m not getting any writing done if I’m working on the blog, or I’m on social media. If I’m doing the blog, something else has to be sacrificed.
Mostly it’s my blog. My blog is about writing stuff, visiting places that have been or will be used in stories, and once, a recalcitrant cat who sadly has passed on. It also has running episodic stories, usually four different at a time.
It also had about 2,000 past posts. When I don’t get the time to do my blog, which has been mostly for the last three months off and on, I sometimes repackage or repeat past posts, just to keep it ticking over, much like a scoreboard.
It is also a tool for advertising my books and stories, and what’s coming (if only I stopped using social media) and these are repeated every four or five days. It’d the equivalent of advertising because I can’t afford other advertising. If this is an annoyance, I’m sorry.
And just so everyone knows, I will always keep writing, not because I want to become the next James Patterson, though it would be nice, I write because I want to, and it pleases me when someone reads something I write, and they like it. It is the greatest compliment of all, and I believe in encouragement. It’s why I spend a lot of that social media time highlighting other writers so they can build a following.
After all, we are all in the same boat, it would just be nice if we were all rowing in the same direction.
