Category: Uncategorized

The story behind the story – Echoes from the Past

The novel ‘Echoes from the past’ started out as a short story I wrote about 30 years ago, titled ‘The birthday’.

My idea was to take a normal person out of their comfort zone and led on a short but very frightening journey to a place where a surprise birthday party had been arranged.

Thus the very large man with a scar and a red tie was created.

So was the friend with the limousine who worked as a pilot.

So were the two women, Wendy and Angelina, who were Flight Attendants that the pilot friend asked to join the conspiracy.

I was going to rework the short story, then about ten pages long, into something a little more.

And like all re-writes, especially those I have anything to do with, it turned into a novel.

There was motivation.  I had told some colleagues at the place where I worked at the time that I liked writing, and they wanted a sample.  I was going to give them the re-worked short story.  Instead, I gave them ‘Echoes from the past’

Originally it was not set anywhere in particular.

But when considering a location, I had, at the time, recently been to New York in December, and visited Brooklyn and Queens, as well as a lot of New York itself.  We were there for New Years, and it was an experience I’ll never forget.

One evening we were out late, and finished up in Brooklyn Heights, near the waterfront, and there was rain and snow, it was cold and wet, and there were apartment buildings shimmering in the street light, and I thought, this is the place where my main character will live.

It had a very spooky atmosphere, the sort where ghosts would not be unexpected.  I felt more than one shiver go up and down my spine in the few minutes I was there.

I had taken notes, as I always do, of everywhere we went so I had a ready supply of locations I could use, changing the names in some cases.

Fifth Avenue near the Rockefeller center is amazing at first light, and late at night with the Seasonal decorations and lights.

The original main character was a shy and man of few friends, hence not expecting the surprise party.  I enhanced that shyness into purposely lonely because of an issue from his past that leaves him always looking over his shoulder and ready to move on at the slightest hint of trouble.  No friends, no relationships, just a very low profile.

Then I thought, what if he breaks the cardinal rule, and begins a relationship?

But it is also as much an exploration of a damaged soul, as it is the search for a normal life, without having any idea what normal was, and how the understanding of one person can sometimes make all the difference in what we may think or feel.

And, of course, I wanted a happy ending.

Except for the bad guys.

Get it here:  https://amzn.to/2CYKxu4

newechocover5rs

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 106

Day 106 – Writing to please yourself

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Writing for an Audience of One: The Radical Liberation of Margaret Cavendish

In the 17th century, a woman’s writing was typically expected to be a pursuit of piety, domestic instruction, or perhaps a modest contribution to poetry. Margaret Cavendish, the Duchess of Newcastle, cared little for such boundaries. Surrounded by the rigid social expectations of the Restoration era, she penned a mantra that remains one of the most liberating declarations in literary history: “I write to please myself.”

While this might sound like a simple statement of personal preference, in the context of Cavendish’s time—and perhaps even in our own era of algorithm-driven content—it is a profoundly radical act.

The Rebellion Against Approval

When we write today, it is rarely “for ourselves.” We write for engagement, for likes, for professional advancement, or to satisfy the perceived expectations of a target demographic. We curate our voices to fit into boxes that make us palatable to publishers, platforms, and peers.

Margaret Cavendish understood something that many modern creatives have forgotten: as soon as you write to please an audience, you are no longer the author of your own work; you are merely a performer of their desires.

By declaring that her primary audience was her own intellect and imagination, Cavendish reclaimed the authority of the artist. She did not seek the validation of the male-dominated literary circles of the 1600s; instead, she explored science fiction, philosophy, and poetry with a wild, unbridled curiosity. She didn’t seek to be “correct”—she sought to be honest to her own fascinations.

When “Pleasing Yourself” Becomes Art

There is a common misconception that writing for oneself is synonymous with vanity or poor quality. Critics of Cavendish often labelled her as eccentric or “mad.” However, history has revealed that her refusal to bend to contemporary tastes allowed her to write The Blazing World—one of the earliest examples of science fiction.

She was free to experiment because she wasn’t tethered to the fear of being misunderstood.

When you write to please yourself, you strip away the filters of “what will people think?” and “is this marketable?” The result is a voice that is sharper, more distinct, and more authentic. Even if the work never reaches a wide audience, the process of documenting one’s own mind is an act of self-discovery that no amount of external praise can replicate.

How to Adopt the Cavendish Mindset

How can we reclaim this philosophy in a world that demands we be “content creators” rather than artists?

  1. Lower the Stakes: Write something that you never intend to publish. Let it be messy, odd, or purely indulgent. If no one else is reading it, you are free to explore your most “unmarketable” ideas.
  2. Define Your Curiosity: What do you actually want to write about, regardless of trends? Whether it’s 17th-century philosophy or a niche hobby, lean into the subjects that make your own brain light up.
  3. Detach from the Metric: Focus on the satisfaction of the prose, the clarity of the thought, or the joy of the narrative. If the writing process itself brings you pleasure, the goal has been achieved.

Final Thoughts

Margaret Cavendish was an outcast in her time because she refused to perform modesty. Today, we can see her for what she truly was: a visionary who realized that the only person you are guaranteed to be writing for for the rest of your life is yourself.

The next time you sit down to write, don’t ask, “Will this resonate?” Ask, “Does this thrill me?” Because when you write to please yourself, you create something that is authentic—and that is the only kind of writing that truly stands the test of time.

The first case of PI Walthenson – “A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers”

This case has everything, red herrings, jealous brothers, femme fatales, and at the heart of it all, greed.

See below for an excerpt from the book…

Coming soon!

PIWalthJones1

An excerpt from the book:

When Harry took the time to consider his position, a rather uncomfortable position at that, he concluded that he was somehow involved in another case that meant very little to him.

Not that it wasn’t important in some way he was yet to determine, it was just that his curiosity had got the better of him, and it had led to this: sitting in a chair, securely bound, waiting for someone one of his captors had called Doug.

It was not the name that worried him so much, it was the evil laugh that had come after the name was spoken.

Doug what? Doug the ‘destroyer’, Doug the ‘dangerous’, Doug the ‘deadly’; there was any number of sinister connotations, and perhaps that was the point of the laugh, to make it more frightening than it was.

But there was no doubt about one thing in his mind right then: he’d made a mistake. A very big. and costly, mistake. Just how big the cost, no doubt he would soon find out.

His mother, and his grandmother, the wisest person he had ever known, had once told him never to eavesdrop.

At the time he couldn’t help himself and instead of minding his own business, listening to a one-sided conversation which ended with a time and a place. The very nature of the person receiving the call was, at the very least, sinister, and, because of the cryptic conversation, there appeared to be, or at least to Harry, criminal activity involved.

For several days he had wrestled with the thought of whether he should go. Stay on the fringe, keep out of sight, observe and report to the police if it was a crime. Instead, he had willingly gone down the rabbit hole.

Now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, several heat lamps hanging over his head, he was perspiring, and if perspiration could be used as a measure of fear, then Harry’s fear was at the highest level.

Another runnel of sweat rolled into his left eye, and, having his hands tied, literally, it made it impossible to clear it. The burning sensation momentarily took his mind off his predicament. He cursed and then shook his head trying to prevent a re-occurrence. It was to no avail.

Let the stinging sensation be a reminder of what was right and what was wrong.

It was obvious that it was the right place and the right time, but in considering his current perilous situation, it definitely was the wrong place to be, at the worst possible time.

It was meant to be his escape, an escape from the generations of lawyers, what were to Harry, dry, dusty men who had been in business since George Washington said to the first Walthenson to step foot on American soil, ‘Why don’t you become a lawyer?” when asked what he could do for the great man.

Or so it was handed down as lore, though Harry didn’t think Washington meant it literally, the Walthenson’s, then as now, were not shy of taking advice.

Except, of course, when it came to Harry.

He was, Harry’s father was prone to saying, the exception to every rule. Harry guessed his father was referring to the fact his son wanted to be a Private Detective rather than a dry, dusty lawyer. Just the clothes were enough to turn Harry off the profession.

So, with a little of the money Harry inherited from one of his aunts, he leased an office in Gramercy Park and had it renovated to look like the Sam Spade detective agency, you know the one, Spade and Archer, and The Maltese Falcon.

There’s a movie and a book by Dashiell Hammett if you’re interested.

So, there it was, painted on the opaque glass inset of the front door, ‘Harold Walthenson, Private Detective’.

There was enough money to hire an assistant, and it took a week before the right person came along, or, more to the point, didn’t just see his business plan as something sinister. Ellen, a tall cool woman in a long black dress, or so the words of a song in his head told him, fitted in perfectly.

She’d seen the movie, but she said with a grin, Harry was no Humphrey Bogart.

Of course not, he said, he didn’t smoke.

Three months on the job, and it had been a few calls, no ‘real’ cases, nothing but missing animals, and other miscellaneous items. What he really wanted was a missing person. Or perhaps a beguiling, sophisticated woman who was as deadly as she was charming, looking for an errant husband, perhaps one that she had already ‘dispatched’.

Or for a tall, dark and handsome foreigner who spoke in riddles and in heavily accented English, a spy, or perhaps an assassin, in town to take out the mayor. The man was such an imbecile Harry had considered doing it himself.

Now, in a back room of a disused warehouse, that wishful thinking might be just about to come to a very abrupt end, with none of the romanticized trappings of the business befalling him. No beguiling women, no sinister criminals, no stupid policemen.

Just a nasty little man whose only concern was how quickly or how slowly Harry’s end was going to be.

…

© Charles Heath 2019-2024

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 33

I have been working on the final chapters, and these are proceeding slowly.

The plot has been veering off course because new possibilities come to mind that will give me an ending that I didn’t think was possible.

But now, with a little tweaking over the previous five chapters, and going back to the start of the third section, a whole new scenario has come to life.

And no one will see it coming.

I certainly didn’t, because, in the original storyline, it was meant to have a happy-ever-after ending, each with a different person.

So, it doesn’t finish in quite the same manner for either of the two main characters.

In the meantime, I have to flesh out the major, major plot development!

‘Sunday in New York’ – A beta reader’s view

I’m not a fan of romance novels but …

There was something about this one that resonated with me.

This is a novel about a world generally ruled by perception, and how people perceive what they see, what they are told, and what they want to believe.

I’ve been guilty of it myself, as I’m sure we all have at one time or another.

For the main characters, Harry and Alison, other issues are driving their relationship.

For Alison, it is a loss of self-worth through losing her job and from losing her mother and, in a sense, her sister.

For Harry, it is the fact that he has a beautiful and desirable wife, his belief that she is the object of other men’s desires, and, in particular, his immediate superior’s.

Between observation, the less-than-honest motives of his friends, a lot of jumping to conclusions based on very little fact, and you have the basis of one very interesting story.

When it all comes to a head, Alison finds herself in a desperate situation, and she realises only the truth will save their marriage.

But is it all the truth?

What would we do in similar circumstances?

Rarely does a book have me so enthralled that I could not put it down until I knew the result. They might be considered two people who should have known better, but as is often the case, they had to get past what they both thought was the truth.

And the moral of this story, if it could be said there is one, is that nothing is ever what it seems.

…

Available on Amazon here: amzn.to/2H7ALs8

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The cinema of my dreams – It all started in Venice – Episode 19

An interview with Jaime Meyers

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I went in and closed the door, leaning against it.  She glared at me, for a moment not recognising who it was, then the expression changed.

And it gave me a tell.

“You’re supposed to be in Venice,” she said, with a hint of amusement in her tone.

“You’re not supposed to be in here, and yet here you are.”

“It’s all part of a witch hunt.  We’ve been down this road before, and like the last time, and the time before that, they’ve got nothing on me.  They know it, and you should know it too, but if you’re retired, why are you here?”

“Your new best friend forever, Larry.  You know he wants me dead.”

“He says you killed his brother, but he’s never said anything about killing you, just getting justice for his brother.  Through the legal system.”

“Of course, he would say that.  I assure you I had nothing to do with his brother’s death, but that’s another story.”  I crossed to the chair and sat down, taking a moment to look at her.

Drugs, alcohol and stress had taken the shine off what had once been a stunningly beautiful young woman.  The loss of her father and the betrayal of her husband had taken their toll.

“If that’s the case, perhaps you should tell me what happened so I can make up my own mind.  After all, there are always two sides to a story.”

I shook my head.  “That would be a pointless exercise.  Let’s talk about you instead, and the reason why you’re sitting in that chair.  Larry.  Until you took up with him, we had no idea who you were or what you were doing and had no reason to find out.  Larry, on the other hand, well, he’s shoulder deep in a shit pile of criminal activity, and my old boss, when I used to work for him, is very interested in everyone who even looks sideways at him.  So, bottom line, you’re only here because of him, and because of him I know everything there is to know about.”

“So you say, but there’s nothing to know.  Never was, and Larry is just a friend who’s going through a rough patch.”

“If you mean losing out on a fifty-million-pound inheritance because he killed his brother is a rough patch, then you’re right.”

“I don’t know anything about that.  All I know is his wife is being difficult.”

“That’s the same line all married men use.”

Her expression sharpened, conveying annoyance.  “It’s not that sort of relationship.” 

“Not what his wife is telling his mother back in Sorrento.  And that’s saying something considering how much Brenda hates his mother.”

A change in expression.  Another tell, a nerve hit.

“How do I know this?”  I asked the question for her.  “Simple, and perhaps I will give you a side of the story.  His mother crossed paths with one of my investigations back when I worked in intelligence as an analyst, and I got to know her quite well.  As a favour, knowing I was in a position to help, she asked me to watch over his brother, her youngest son.”

I could see the question before she could ask it.

“Before you tell me I didn’t do a very good job, I was at the handoff Larry sent him to that went bad, one he was told would be a simple briefcase exchange, and ended up having to defend him in what became an impossible situation.”

“What was in the briefcases?”

An odd question, but I could see from the furrowed brow that she had seized on a significant detail.

“I don’t know and didn’t ask.  In my position, it was better not to know, but you can guess.  I’m sure you are aware of Larry’s interests.”

She didn’t say, but she knew.  My guess had been drugs on one side and money on the other.  It was anything but a simple job, and my reasoning was that Larry tried to keep it low-key, using a lesser-known courier without backup, and someone found out.  With drugs and cash on that scale, it was too much of a temptation to pass up.

“Anyway, he was shot, not fatally. I patched him up, he called Larry, and I stayed with him until Larry arrived, but left before Larry saw me, for obvious reasons.  If you talk to his mother, she will verify everything I said.  She was still talking to him after I left, up to the point where he could see Larry coming.  After that, he was DOA at the hospital.  You can draw your own conclusions, but 50 million is a great incentive to use a particular situation to get rid of a problem.”

“An interesting story, as you say, but I’m not likely to be asking anyone anything because I’m just not interested in you or him.”

“As I said before, a pointless exercise.  But, interested or not, you will be helping us with our problem with Larry and his explosives.”

“‘I know nothing about that.”

“Well, let’s talk about something you do know about.  Emily Broadhurst, or to Wendy, Aunt May.”

The look in that fraction of a second was both malevolent and fearful.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I shrugged.  “I thought you might say that.”  I took out my cell phone and dialled one of the two numbers displayed.  “Let’s bring them in and have a chat, see what they have to say.”  A voice answered on the other end.  “George.  Bring them in.”

“Stop.”  She glared at her lawyer.  “Give us the room.”

“I strongly suggest…”

“Give me the room.  Your objection is noted.”

Her lawyer reluctantly got up and left the room.  She glared at the policewoman standing by the door.

“Pretend she’s not here,” I said.  “She has to be here for your safety and is the very soul of discretion.”  I looked up at the camera.  “This is not to be recorded or observed, so camera off.”  I waited until the red light below the camera went off.

I could see she was about to say something, more than likely regrettable, but understandable.

“Let me say this before you say something you will regret.  You’ve been lying to me.  I don’t ask questions I don’t have answers to.  Because you started working with Larry, we went the extra mile on your life and operations.  You were there when the crates were delivered, as was Larry himself, and he told you what was in there.  So, where there’s one lie, what is there you can say that cannot be taken with a grain of salt.”

“Be that as it may…”

“No.  You are the head of a criminal organisation.  It might be dressed up very cleverly to look like something else, but we have a very clear view of what goes on.  To be honest, we don’t care.  You’re not the focus of my ex-boss’s obsession.  And, believe me when I tell you, I don’t like being Larry’s target.”

“Then make him disappear.”

“Unfortunately, despite what you and others might think, we did not unilaterally kill people for no reason, and, even if I still worked for that organisation, I wasn’t able to make people disappear.  The paperwork would be horrendous, along with endless external, internal and government reviews.”

“Then what do you want me to do?  I’m not an informer, nor will I become an informant.”  Spoken by a person who still thought they had a choice.

“You’re going to do what you negotiate with the police, who, despite your endless denials, are aware of the truth.  So, first things first, you are going to ignore Larry and not proceed with any of the arrangements you may have agreed with him.  You can do that with plausible deniability, telling him leaving C4 in your warehouse was not an act of good faith since the police now want your hide for it.  Once again I will reiterate, I’m not interested in you, and nor is my ex-boss, so you are in a unique position to use whatever knowledge you have as leverage for your freedom.”

“And the matter you brought up?”

“Will never see the light of day, or be mentioned by anyone ever again.  Unless you break our agreement.  I used to have the best investigative team on the planet, and they can find anyone or anything, so if you’re thinking of running, don’t.  My ex-boss will have no hesitation in destroying you and your organisation.”

“And yet you say you work for no one.”

“Haven’t for years.  I retired and hoped to stay that way, but my wife died, and Larry decided to come after me.  At the moment, I don’t have much to live for, so if you want to get in my bad books, believe me, you’ll not live to regret it.  When I walk out of this room, don’t get in my sights.”

“And why should I take you at your word?”

“I swear it on my wife’s grave.  Good enough?”

It seemed it was.

…

© Charles Heath 2022

NaNoWriMo – April – 2026 – Day 32

Without the pressure of a time limit and no distractions, I was able to sit down and go over the plan for the last few chapters.

I had gotten to a point in the story where I was satisfied with what I’d written, but it did have ramifications later on, ramifications that were not in the original plan.

That later on, of course, is now, so once I’d looked at the plan and read the previous two chapters to get my bearings, it was easier to write.

But…

Isn’t there always a but?

As I was writing, another thought came to mind. Some time ago, I realised there needed to be another action sequence arising out of an event that had sparked an impromptu and ill-fated attempted kidnapping.

That had to be avenged, but in the rough draft I had already written, it didn’t figure in the ending.

Now it does, and I have written it, and it’s great.

Even if I say so myself.

Tomorrow I will be covering the fallout from this event.

What I learned about writing – What Lies beneath

There is always something to see, especially when you are told, ‘nothing to see here, move along’.

That’s the question every thriller/mystery writer wants to get to the bottom of by the end of the story.

As a rule, it’s never really what you see or what you think you see, but it can be hiding in plain sight.

Someone once told me that we are trained to see what we want to see, often not what it is that’s there in front of us. 

Like reading a story with spelling errors, gaps, and bad punctuation, our eyes gloss over those errors because we’re trained to read words quickly using only a few letters.

It’s why we sometimes misinterpret words and find ourselves up that proverbial garden path.  I know I have done it myself.  I know those apps that predict the word you want to use but invariably display the wrong one are as flawed as our eyes and brains can be at times, so I try not to use them.

A good detective looks beneath the surface to see what others don’t.

You look at a shop window and see several products on sale at ridiculously low prices.

A detective looks at the same store window and sees the third dress along on the rack of sale items had a blood stain on the bottom hemline, and deduces the dress was worn by the murderer of a bystander.

Someone in the shop, customer, or employee had a case to answer.

Then, sometimes, we can’t see the wood for the trees.  It’s an interesting expression, but quite true.

Any time I visit a new place, I try to get as much visitor information as possible, and then, based on the description, go visit.

How many times have I been disappointed?  A few.  What they sometimes describe is the ambience, which may be there when there are fewer people about, but not when there are so many you cannot enjoy the view, the sidewalk cafes, and most of all the ambience.

This is translated into your writing, and I like the idea of depicting a place so that if you decide to go there, you see what I see, and not necessarily what the brochures tell you.

Then, of course, there is ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’.  That is not easy to convey in words, but I’m working on it.

One day! 

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 105

Day 105 – Graphic novels

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Beyond the Comic Strip: A Beginner’s Guide to Creating Your Own Graphic Novel

For a long time, the term “graphic novel” was met with a shrug. People thought of them as “just comic books”—fleeting entertainment for kids. But today, the graphic novel stands as a respected, powerful medium of literature. From memoirs like Persepolis to genre-bending epics like Watchmen, graphic novels prove that when you combine visual language with the written word, you unlock a storytelling potential that prose alone just can’t touch.

If you’ve ever dreamed of telling a story through panels, splash pages, and speech bubbles, you’re in the right place. Let’s break down what graphic novels actually are and how you can start crafting your own.

What Exactly is a Graphic Novel?

At its core, a graphic novel is a book-length narrative told through sequential art.

Unlike a comic book, which is typically a serialised, thin pamphlet released monthly, a graphic novel is a complete, self-contained story (or a collected volume) bound in a book format. It uses the visual medium—panels, gutters, character design, and colour theory—to control the pacing of the reader’s experience in a way that text-only books cannot.

In a graphic novel, the art isn’t just an “illustration” of the story; the art is the story.

How to Create Your Own Graphic Novel: A Step-by-Step Guide

Creating a graphic novel is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s a labour of love that requires patience and a fair bit of planning. Here is your roadmap from concept to finished product.

1. Develop Your “Hook” and Script

Every great graphic novel starts with an idea. But before you pick up a pencil, you need a script.

  • The Synopsis: Summarise your story in a few paragraphs. What is the central conflict? Who is the protagonist?
  • The Script: Write it like a screenplay, but include descriptions of what is happening in each panel. Keep your dialogue tight—remember, you have limited space on the page!

2. Character and World Design

Before you draw the first page, spend time in your sketchbook.

  • Character Sheets: Draw your characters from different angles and with different expressions. If they aren’t consistent, the reader will get confused.
  • World-Building: What does your setting feel like? Create a “visual bible” for your world so the architectural style and atmosphere remain cohesive throughout the book.

3. Thumbnails: The Blueprint

This is the most crucial step. Thumbnails are tiny, rough sketches of every page in your book. They don’t need to look good; they just need to map out the flow.

  • Where does the reader’s eye go?
  • Are the panels too crowded?
  • Does the page turn reveal an exciting surprise?
  • Pro-tip: Don’t skip this! Fixing a mistake in a thumbnail takes seconds; fixing it in an inked final page takes hours.

4. Pencilling and Inking

Now it’s time to commit to the paper (or screen).

  • Pencilling: Draft the layout, body proportions, and backgrounds cleanly.
  • Inking: Use fine-tip pens or digital brushes to finalise the lines. This gives the drawings weight and definition, making them “pop” off the page.

5. Lettering: The Silent Storyteller

Bad lettering can ruin great art. Make sure your word balloons are placed in the order they should be read (top to bottom, left to right). Use clear, readable fonts, and ensure there is enough “breathing room” around the text so the page doesn’t look cluttered.

6. Coloring (or Shading)

If you aren’t doing the book in black and white, this is where you solidify the mood. Colour is a powerful tool—cool blues can signal sadness, while jarring reds can indicate danger. If you’re sticking to black and white, focus on value—using shadows and hatching to create depth and contrast.

Final Thoughts: Just Start

The biggest hurdle isn’t the technical skill—it’s the daunting nature of the project. A graphic novel is a mountain of work, but you climb it one panel at a time.

Don’t aim for perfection on your first attempt. Aim for completion. Whether you’re using traditional pencils and ink or an iPad with Procreate, the most important tool you have is your voice.

So, what story are you going to draw first?

Searching for locations: Venice, Italy (Again)

We have visited Venice twice, in 2006 and not so long ago.

Not much had changed from visit to visit.

Instead of staying in a hotel selected by a travel agent, the Savoia and Jolanda on the waterfront of Riva Degli Schiavoni, because I’m a Hilton Honors member, more recently we stayed at the Hilton Molino Stucky.  It was located on an island, Giudecca, and had its own transport from the hotel to St Mark’s Square for a very reasonable one-off charge for the stay.

hiltonmolinostuckey2

On our first visit, we traveled from Florence to Venice.  We were advised to take a water taxi to the hotel, not only the most direct route but to see some of Venice from the water.  The only drawback, you have to negotiate a price with the driver.

We were not very good negotiators, and it cost 60 Euros.

But, despite the cost, it was worth every Euro because the taxi driver took us by the scenic route, directly from the Station to the doorstep of our hotel.  For a first time in Venice, and you want to see it from the water, a water taxi is the best option.

2013-06-25 17.09.16

The first time we stayed at the Savoia and Jolanda Hotel, which was at the time quite old, and the room we had, on the ground floor, was comfortable enough, but being November, they had just stopped using the air conditioning, it was still quite warm and at times uncomfortable.

There were better rooms, but this was beyond the knowledge of the travel agent, and one of the reasons we stopped using agents to book hotels.

The most recent visit we had driven down from Salzburg to Venice airport where we had to return the hire car.  From there we were intending to take a private water taxi from the airport to the hotel, for an estimated 120 Euros.

We saved our money and took the ACTV public waterbus, from the airport to the hotel, with one stop.  It took a little over an hour and was equally as scenic.

venicecanals1

Our room in the Hilton was on one of the upper levels, floor four, and had a view of the canal, the large passenger ships coming and going, as well as a remarkable view of Venice itself as far up the canal to St Marks Square in one direction, and the port for the passenger ships in the other.

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We got to see three or four very large passenger ships come and go, along with a lot of other craft.  I hadn’t realized how busy the waterways, and the Grand Canal, were.

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Each evening after a day’s exploring we would end up in the Executive Lounge, and then one of the many restaurants, usually Il Molino for breakfast, and the Rialto Lobby Bar and Lounge for dinner.  After that, it was a stroll down the waterfront taking in the night air, and perhaps to walk off the delicious dinner.