Tag: Blog

Thoughts, maybe

I’ve been sitting at this desk staring at the screen thinking of what to write that might interest other people.

Seems I’m not too good at it.

So, I moved seats, to sit opposite the writer’s chair and took a good long hard look at the person, the so-called writer, conjuring up in my mind, if I was someone I’d just dragged in off the street, what would I ask?

Would I bother?

I mean most of of walk down the street trying to avoid everyone else, and anything bad that might happen.

But I’m here now, so for a free cup of tea and a Doubletree cookie, I consider myself bribed.

Question 1:  Why on earth would you want to write when there’s a billion other books out there?  Seems a complete waste of time to me.

[Answer] Good point, most days when I get out of bed, or rather stare at the ceiling from under the covers, I wonder why I bother to get up.

OK that’s the borderline manic depressive speaking, and most likely suffering from a hangover, trying to get those last 1,000 words for the day done.

Question 2: You write when you’re drunk?  That must make a lot of sense, not!

This person has found me out in two questions.

[Answer] No, a little Scotch helps oil the wheels on the mind.

Question 3:  What do you do for inspiration?

[Answer] Thinking up new and novel ways of killing off people I drag in off the street to ask me questions about myself.  No, sorry, didn’t mean that.  I haven’t a mean bone in my body.  Inspiration you say?

Look around.

The inquisitor does.  There are seven floor to ceiling bookcases full of my favorite authors, about 4,000 or so books, aside from the reference library that is mostly in e-book format which run to about 10,000.

Question 4:  You read all of these?

[Picks up a copy of ‘Kill Me If You Can’ by James Patterson]  This one.

I nod yes.  I have read most of them.  I tell him writers must read.  Someone told me that a long time ago.  Not only thrillers and crime, but the classics.  I found War and Peace heavy going, but not so much as Madame Bovary, or Vanity Fair.

You can ask one more question.

Question 5:  Can I borrow this book [James Patterson]

As always the answer is yes.  I encourage people to read.  It doesn’t have to be my work.  It would be nice but I;m realistic enough to know there’s a billion other books out there I have to compete with.

Maybe tomorrow.

 

 

 

Short story writing – Adding a catalyst

 

Just when there’s enough complication in the story, we could leave it there with the current three protagonists and see what happens.

But I like mayhem.

So rather than another customer, it’s time to add a complication; an off duty policeman, or more to the point, policewoman.  A beat cop, if they still exist.

Her back story in a sentence or so:

“It had been another long day at the office for Officer Margaret O’Donnell, or, out in the streets, coping with people who either didn’t know or didn’t care about the law.

People who couldn’t cross the road where there were crossings and lights to protect them, silly girls shoplifting on a dare, and boys who thought they were men and could walk on water.

The one they scraped of the road would never get to grow up, and his mother, well, she was not doing another call on a family to give them bad news.

That was her day.  So far.”

What is she doing near the shop?  She lives around the corner.  Perhaps she knows the reputation of the shopkeeper or perhaps not.  It’s not relevant, then, as it is a place she avoids.

Now, she may not have the option.  She sees the shop is still open, past the usual closing time.

Let’s continue:

She came around the corner into the street where she lived and saw the lights were on in the corner store.

“She looked at her watch and saw it was ten minutes to midnight.  Long past closing time.  She looked through the window but from the other side of the road and could only see three heads and little else.

Damn, she thought, I’m going to have to check it out.  There were rumors, and she hoped they were not true.”

Meanwhile, back in the shop how are the others faring?

The shopkeeper is in an invidious position, he can’t supply the kids with the drugs and get them out, not in front of the customer.

The fact the girl has a gun makes the situation almost impossible.  What would happen if he suggests the customer leave?  Without him the situation would be simpler.

Alphonse had only a few moments to sum up the situation, and the sum of those deliberations was the remove the only problem, the customer.

He could still salvage this:

“The shopkeeper changed his expression to one more placatory, and said quietly to the girl, ‘Look, this is not this chap’s problem.’  He nodded in the direction of the customer.  ‘I’m sure he’d rather not be here, and you would glad of one less distraction.’

He could see she was wavering, she was not holding the gun so steadily, and the longer this dragged on, the more nervous and unpredictable she would become.

And in the longer game, the customer would sing his praises no matter what happened after he left.

The girl looked at Jack.  The shopkeeper was right.  If he wasn’t here this could be over.  But there was another problem.  It didn’t look like Simmo was in any shape to get away.  In fact this was looking more like a suicide mission.

She waved the gun in his direction.  ‘Get out now, before I change my mind.’

As the gun turned to the shopkeeper, Jack wasn’t going to wait to be asked twice and started sidling towards the door.”

What happens next?

 

And the story for this section, with a few minor changes:

 

It had been another long day at the office for Officer Margaret O’Donnell, or, out in the streets, coping with people who either didn’t know or didn’t care about the law.

People who couldn’t cross the road where there were crossings and lights to protect them, silly girls shoplifting on a dare, and boys who thought they were men and could walk on water.

The one they scraped of the road would never get to grow up, and his mother, well, she was not doing another call on a family to give them bad news.

That was her day.  So far.  For now she was glad to be getting home, putting her feet up, and forgetting about everything until the next morning when it would start all over again.

Coming around that last corner, the home stretch she called it, she was directly opposite the corner shop, usually closed at this hour of the night.  It was not.  The lights were still on.

She looked at her watch and saw it was ten minutes to midnight, and long past closing time.  She looked through the window but from the other side of the road and could only see three heads and little else.

Damn, she thought, I’m going to have to check it out.  There were rumors, and she hoped they were not true.

 

The shopkeeper changed his expression to one more placatory, and said quietly to the girl, ‘Look, this is not this chap’s problem.’  He nodded in the direction of the customer.  ‘I’m sure he’d rather not be here, and you would glad of one less distraction.’

He could see she was wavering, she was not holding the gun so steadily, and the longer this dragged on, the more nervous and unpredictable she would become.

And in the longer game, the customer would sing his praises no matter what happened after he left.

The girl looked at Jack.  The shopkeeper was right.  If he wasn’t here this could be over.  But there was another problem.  It didn’t look like Simmo was in any shape to get away.  In fact this was looking more like a suicide mission.

She waved the gun in his direction.  ‘Get out now, before I change my mind.’

As the gun turned to the shopkeeper, Jack wasn’t going to wait to be asked twice and started sidling towards the door.

 

Next:  Actions have consequences

 

© Charles Heath 2016

Short story writing – Revision

Like all stories as they progress they go through a number of rewrites, and sometimes because of what follows.

This is the rewrite of the first section of the short story I’m undertaking, adding some new details:

 

Jack was staring down the barrel of a gun.

He had gone down to the corner shop to get a pack of cigarettes.

He had to hustle because he knew the shopkeeper, Alphonse, liked to close at 11:00 pm sharp.  His momentum propelled him through the door, causing the customer warning bell to ring loudly as the door bashed into it, and before the sound had died away, he knew he was in trouble.

It took a second, perhaps three, to sum up the situation. 

Young girl, about 16 or 17, scared, looking sideways at a man on the ground, then Alphonse, and then Jack.  He recognized the gun, a Luger, German, relic of WW2, perhaps her father’s souvenir, now pointing at him then Alphonse, then back to him.

Jack to another second or two to consider if he could disarm her.  No, the distance was too great.  He put his hands out where she could see them.  No sudden movements, try to remain calm, his heart rate up to the point of cardiac arrest.

Pointing with the gun, she said, “Come in, close the door, and move towards the counter.”

Everything but her hand steady as a rock.  Only tell tale sign of stress, the bead of perspiration on her brow.  It was 40 degrees Fahrenheit in the shop.

Jack shivered, and then did as he was told.  She was in the unpredictable category.

“What’s wrong with your friend?”  Jack tried the friendly approach, as he took several slow steps sideways towards the counter.

The shopkeeper, Alphonse, seemed calmer than usual, or the exact opposite spoke instead, “I suspect he’s an addict, looking for a score.  At the end of his tether, my guess, and came to the wrong place.”

Wrong time, wrong place, in more ways than one Jack thought, now realizing he had walked into a very dangerous situation.  She didn’t look like a user.  The boy on the ground, he did, and he looked like he was going through the beginnings of withdrawal.

 “Simmo said you sell shit.  You wanna live, ante up.”  She was glaring at Alphonse. 

The language, Jack thought, was not her own, she had been to a better class of school, a good girl going through a bad boy phase. Caught in a situation she was not equipped to deal with.

 

© Charles Heath 2016

Short story writing – Point of view

Point of view / Perspective

 

If this story was being written the first person the only perspective or point of view would be that of the narrator.

Since we need to have a number of perspectives it is better done in the third person so we can change between characters and try to understand their motivation.

We might look at first person perspective for each of characters later.

The second of the protagonists is the girl with the gun.  How did she get it?  How did the situation deteriorate so quickly?   What is she going to do?

This is a short story and we need to know something about her, so we have to get to the heat of the matter quickly, so let’s start with: “Her mother said she would never amount to anything, and here she was, with a broken drug addict coming apart because she had been cut off from her money, dragged into coming to this shop to leverage drugs from his dealer at the end of a gun.

It was her fault, Jerry said, and made her feel responsible, much the same as her parents and everyone else in her life.”

One of life’s losers or just a victim?  This theme can go in any direction.

Then a moment to reflect on why she was here:  “Why had she agreed to go with Jerry?  In that moment when she picked up the gun off the floor she realized it was not out of responsibility or fault, it was out of fear.”

That gives us the why, he had obviously tried to make her feel responsible and when that failed, he threatened her.  But now there’s a bigger issue, the gun and a situation spiraling out of control.  The thing is, she has the gun and the power to walk away or make matters worse.

The problem was, she has outed the shopkeeper as a dealer in front of someone who had not known.  That now made him a victim as much as she was.

“She looked at the two men facing her, a shopkeeper who was a dealer and a customer scared shitless.  As much as she was.  Her gun hand was shaking.”

The scene is set, something has to give.

Time for the shopkeeper to weigh in.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.  Please, put the gun down before someone gets hurt.”

It’s a typical response from a man who realizes he’s in trouble, and is trying to make time while he thinks of how to rescue himself from a potentially dangerous situation.

Time to change the perspective again and explore the shopkeeper.

“If only Jack hadn’t come in when he did.  He would have the gun, called the police, and brazened his way out of trouble.  Who would the police believe a pair of addicts or a respectable shopkeeper?

Now he had to deal with the fallout, especially if the girl started talking.”

 

Next, actions have consequences, building the tension.

 

This section rewritten, moving from Jack as the narrator to the girl, and then to the shopkeeper:

 

Annalisa looked at the two men facing her, a shopkeeper who, despite his protestations, was a dealer and a customer scared shitless.

The poor bastard was not the only one.  This was meant to be simple, arrive at the shop just before closing, force the shopkeeper to hand over the shit, and leave.  Simple.

Except …

The shopkeeper told them to get out.  Simmo started ranting waving the gun around, then collapsed.  A race for the gun which spilled out of his hand, she won.

He was getting the stuff when the customer burst into the shop.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, she thought.

Why had she agreed to go with Jerry?  It was her fault, Jerry said, and made her feel responsible for his problems, much the same as her parents and everyone else in her life.

Her mother said she would never amount to anything, and here she was, with a drug addict coming apart because she had been cut off from her money, dragged into coming to this shop to pick up his score from his dealer at the end of a gun.

She heard a strange sound come from beside her and looked down.  Simmo was getting worse, like he had a fever, and was moaning.

 

The shopkeeper saw an opportunity.  “Listen to me, young lady, I have no idea what you are talking about.  Please, put the gun down before someone gets hurt.  Your friend needs medical help and I can call an ambulance.”

The girl switched her attention back to him.  “Shut up, let me think.  Shit.”

The storekeeper glanced over at the customer.  He’s been in once or twice, probably lived in the neighborhood, but looked the sort who’d prefer to be anywhere but in his shop.  More so now.  If only he hadn’t burst in when he did.  He would have the gun, called the police, and brazened his way out of trouble.  Who would the police believe a pair of addicts or a respectable shopkeeper?

Now he had to deal with the fallout, especially if the girl started talking.

 

© Charles Heath 2016

 

Short Story Writing – Setting the scene

I used to like writing short stories, somewhere between two and five thousand words, but, in the end, it was too much hard work.

No chance of getting into stride with a location description, no real chance of giving a background to a character, it was simply a case of diving straight in.

But …

I’ve been thinking about writing a short story, starting it with a short succinct sentence that will set the tone.

Something like:  “Jack was staring down the barrel of a gun”

What them?

Should he start analyzing what sort of gun it was, did it have a light trigger, was the person holding it shaking, a man or a woman, or a child?

Location, in a house, a disused factory, a shop, a petrol station, the side of the road.

So, where was Jack?

Something like:  “He had gone down to the corner shop to get a pack of cigarettes.”

For himself or someone else?  Is it day, is it night, or somewhere in between?

Something like:  “He had to hustle because he knew the shopkeeper, Alphonse, liked to close at 11:00 pm sharp, and came through the door, the sound of the bell ringing loudly and the door bashed into it.”

So, Jack’s state of mind, he is in a hurry, careless coming through the door, not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

How would you react when you saw a gun, pointed at Alphonse until the sound of the door warning bell attracted the gunman’s attention?

Is it a gunman?

Something like:  “It took a second, perhaps three, to sum up the situation:  a young girl, about 16 or 17, scared, looking sideways at a man on the ground, Alphonse, and then Jack.  A Luger, German, a relic of WW2, perhaps her father’s souvenir, now pointing at him.”

The punch line:  Cigarettes can kill in more ways than one.

The revelation:  The corner store also supplied the local drug addicts.

 

The revised start is now:

 

Jack was staring down the barrel of a gun.

He had gone down to the corner shop to get a pack of cigarettes.

He had to hustle because he knew the shopkeeper, Alphonse, liked to close at 11:00 pm sharp.  His momentum propelled him through the door, causing the customer warning bell to ring loudly as the door bashed into it, and before the sound had died away, he knew he was in trouble.

It took a second, perhaps three, to sum up the situation:  a young girl, about 16 or 17, scared, looking sideways at a man on the ground, Alphonse, and then Jack.  He recognized the gun, a Luger, German, relic of WW2, perhaps her father’s souvenir, now pointing at him then Alphonse, the back to him.

Another second or two to consider if he could disarm her.  No, the distance was too great.

“Come in, close the door, and move towards the counter.”

Everything but her hand steady as a rock.  Only tell-tale sign of stress, the bead of perspiration on her brow.  It was 40 degrees Fahrenheit in the shop.

Jack shivered and then did as he was told.  She was in the unpredictable category.

“What’s wrong with your friend?”  Jack tried the friendly approach.

“He’s an addict, looking for a score.  At the end of his tether, my guess, and came to the wrong place.”

Wrong place, Jack thought.  Wrong place for what?

“Simmo said you sell shit.  You wanna live, ante up.”  She was glaring at Alphonse. 

The language was not her own, she had been to a better class of school, a good girl going through a bad boy phase.

She didn’t look like a user.  The boy on the ground, he did.  Going through the beginnings of withdrawal. 

 

Next time, we will look at point of view.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2018

The Things We Do For Love

Like Sunday in New York, this is another attempt at writing a romance novel.  I’m one of those deluded fools who believes in happy endings.

I guess that was a ‘spoiler’!

This is the description I’m currently working with.

 

Is love the metaphorical equivalent to ‘walking the plank’; a dive into uncharted waters.

For Henry the only romance he was interested in was a life at sea, and when away from it, he strived to find sanctuary from his family and perhaps life itself.  Tonbright, a small village by the sea, is one such a place, but he never expected to find another, Michelle, whom he soon discovers is as mysterious as she is beautiful.

Henry had long since given up the notion of finding romance, and Michelle couldn’t get involved for reasons she could never explain, but in the end both acknowledge that something had happened.  Plans were made, plans were revised, and hopes were shattered.

A chance encounter causes Michelle’s past to catch up with her, and whatever hope she had of having a normal life with Henry, or anyone else, is gone.  To keep him alive she has to destroy her blossoming relationship, an act that breaks her heart, and shatters his.

But can love conquer all?

It takes a few words of encouragement from an unlikely source to send Henry and his friend Radly on an odyssey into the darkest corners of the red light district in a race against time to find and rescue the woman he finally realizes is the love of his life.

 

The cover, at the moment looks like this:

lovecoverfinal1

 

Writing Update – March

Just a short note to tell everyone where I am.

Other than slowly going crazy, because I think I have over-committed myself to too many projects.

Number one:  Strangers We’ve Become

This is the sequel to ‘What Sets Us Apart’, the continuing story of David and Susan, two people who should be together, but there just seems to be too many obstacles, and people in their way.

Of course, I had the first draft done about six months ago, and several re-writes since then, but one night, while the whole of the story was running around in my head (actually I was at page 317 on the most recent edit, when I realized I was not happy with how the story was progressing.

That’s right, five re-writes and four edits, and a very cranky editor who views complete re-writes as, well, let’s not go there.

I’ve now written all bu the last few pages of the part I felt was missing, and I’m feeling better about it.

It’s supposed to be published this month.  Oops!

Number two:  The things we do for love

This is essentially done and just requires me to re-read and make small amendments so that it can go to the editor.

Number three:  PI Walthenson

PI Walthenson Website

This was another of my many unfinished stories, and the first thirty odd episodes were written in the the early eighties when I worked at an IT company called Ferntree.  I let one of the receptionists at the time read the pages after I told her I was a wannabe writer, and she started posting them as an email every morning.

The staff loved in but the bosses hated the traffic it caused on the network, distributing it to over a large number of employees every morning.  These were the days before Outlook and we were using a stodgy mainframe based email program.

Since then I have continued to write episodes, each getting bigger, or around a page an a half, and the story is about to become deeper and darker.

But it takes a lot of effort to write each episode.

Number four:  Writing a book about writing a book.

Writing a book about writing a book website

This is my fun exercise, and based on a work that I wrote, also in the early eighties.  The original manuscript ran to 400 odd typewritten pages, and now that I’ve taken an interest in it again, I’m taking the opportunity to re-write it whilst transcribing it onto the computer from the typewritten pages.

I have also create a web site for the novel and will be updating it with information about each of the characters, the plot, and a blow by blow synopsis as it develops.

At the moment I’m working on the main characters back story and once this is done I will be publishing it as a novella, along with new material that will not make the final book.

I am hoping the project will be finished by the end of this year, and the backstory novella about June this year.

Number five:  First Dig Two Graves

This is the sequel to the Zoe the assassin novel and is about three quarters finished.  I have written several sections, as I do, separately in Notepad, but I cannot find the files, and this is impeding progress.  It is sitting on the back burner, and will be the next book after the previous two mentioned above are published.

 

One Last Look

A single event can have enormous consequences.

A single event driven by fate, after Ben told his wife Charlotte he would be late home one night, he left early, and by chance discovers his wife having dinner in their favourite restaurant with another man.

A single event where it could be said Ben was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Who was this man?  Why was she having dinner with him?

A simple truth to explain the single event was all Ben required.  Instead Charlotte told him a lie.

A single event that forces Ben to question everything he thought he knew about his wife, and the people who are around her.

After a near death experience and forced retirement into a world he is unfamiliar with, Ben finds himself once again drawn back into that life of lies, violence, and intrigue.

From London, to a small village in Tuscany, little by little Ben discovers who the woman he married is, and the real reason why fate had brought them together.

Purchase:

http://tinyurl.com/Amazon-OneLastLook

onelastlookcoverfinal2

What Sets Us Apart

David is a man troubled by a past he is trying to forget.

Susan is rebelling against a life of privilege and an exasperated mother who holds a secret that will determine her daughter’s destiny.

They are two people brought together by chance.  Or was it?

When Susan discovers her mother’s secret, she goes in search of the truth that has been hidden from her since the day she was born.

When David realises her absence is more than the usual cooling off after another heated argument, he finds himself being slowly drawn back into his former world of deceit and lies.

Then, back with his former employers, David quickly discovers nothing is what it seems as he embarks on a dangerous mission to find Susan before he loses her forever.

Purchase:

http://tinyurl.com/Amazon-WhatSetsUsApart

whatsetscover

Travel is part of the story – Melbourne

Brisbane to Melbourne

I doubt there’s an airport anywhere in the world that will be an experience to remember except for all the wrong reasons.   Singapore, Hong Kong and Heathrow are notable only for size and the time it can take to get from the main area to the departure gate.

Brisbane, the airport we are departing from today, is very small by comparison.

But in one aspect all airports are the same.  The price of ordinary items compared to anywhere other than an airport.

Brisbane airport is no exception.  Whilst some items are what may be called reasonable prices I don’t regard $10 plus for a sandwich toasted or otherwise as reasonable.  Coffee however seems to have a benchmark of between $4 and $6 depending on size the world over.

And believe it or not sometimes it tastes like coffee.  Perhaps at home I’m spoilt but quite often the coffee, especially overseas, is awful and you can’t wait to get back.

Despite my own reservations, I do it myself this time, having a flat white coffee and a pie which I have to say was a reasonable price.  On this visit to the airport half the food outlets were closed due to reconstruction, so outlets and choices were extremely limited.

But the airport experience is only one aspect of the day’s  travel.

The airline – Virgin, the plane – 737-800

There is the airline you use.  We have four in Australia, Qantas, Virgin Australia, Tiger and Jetstar.  We usually travel on Qantas mainly because we have frequent flyer points to offset the cost but this time we didn’t.

This time we travelled Virgin Australia because the fares were very reasonable.  For a long time Virgin had the reputation of being an LCA but this is changing as they attempt to take on Qantas as a full service airline.

One aspect of travelling by air is the online check in and bag drop experience.  I don’t think I’ve travelled Qantas once when the automated bag drop system worked for us without having to ask for assistance.

With Virgin it was painless.  Check in online, select your seats and drop the bags at a counter.  Perhaps we were lucky for the time of day there was not a long queue but just the same it was less problematic than Qantas.

Something else that Virgin does better than Qantas is getting the passengers onboard.  They board passengers on the plane from both ends which then enables the departure to be on time.  It is also a positive when disembarking passengers, once again speeding up the process and enabling an on time turn-around.

We are in row 18 and should board the plane by the rear stairs and requiring us to negotiate two sets of steps.  At the moment we both have sore knees, so we were allowed to go through the front door.

My first impression of the plane is one of spaciousness, perhaps skewed by seeing the first few rows given over to business seats.  But one cannot deny the colorful seats and the fact the pitch is one inch better that most of its rivals.

I’m sitting in the dreaded middle seat where there is hardly enough room to move and even though it looks more spacious it isn’t and it would be impossible to eat. I guess in that aspect there is little difference between the airlines.

In flight service has improved, and although they are still charging for food and drinks, they now provide a complimentary snack, usually biscuits and a glass of water.  It’s as much as I can handle in the middle seat because using a knife and fork would be impossible.

Then there’s problem of not only having to sit on the middle seat, but when the person in the window seat needs to get out.  For once there is no complaint from me because l need to periodically get up and stretch my legs as I cannot sit for longer than half to one hour without having problems on arrival.  Last time I traveled I could not get up for over two hours and after landing I had a very bad cramp.

Although the plane left five minutes late, it arrived on time, but because of cross winds we land faster than usual and hit the tarmac quite hard.

After we disembarked taking the rear stairs for expediency, there’s just enough time to get to the baggage belt to collect our bags, the delivery far the quickest than any time I have travelled Qantas.  The worst baggage wait was at Heathrow which took longer than hour.

The hotel – Hilton Doubletree

We are staying at the Hilton Doubletree in Flinders Street opposite the iconic station, one that I used nearly every day for years.  The hotel is relatively new and we are staying on the 10th floor reserved for HHonors guests.  The hotel is just up from the corner of Elizabeth street and Flinders Street and therefore in a very good location.  It is only a short distance to a variety of eating establishments.

We will be staying there again, not only for location, breakfast, and the external food choices, but the fact they supply you with cookies, which are, in my opinion, very addictive.

For us a continental breakfast at the hotel is included with our stay.  If we want to upgrade to the hot breakfast it is an additional $6 per person.  We do for the first day.  Like most Hilton brand hotels the breakfast choices are basically the same, and you get to choose the type of eggs you want which are then cooked for you.  We chose the boiled eggs, and were cooked perfectly.

Self driving in Melbourne and suburbs

We are in Melbourne for a funeral and to visit relatives, so a hire car is essential.

If you are not used to driving in a city that has toll roads Melbourne can be an expensive proposition.  Our last stay the tolls cost us about $90.  There are four tolls just to get from the airport to the city.

That can be alleviated if you have a gps that can find you a route into the city not using toll roads, but if you do be prepared to run into a lot of traffic lights and, of course, traffic.  We have a slight advantage of having once lived in Melbourne but even so we still finished up seeing places we’d never been before, so trying to avoid toll roads without a gps could be a problem.

Also if you are driving in the peak hours be prepared for horrendous traffic where at times the motorways can be like car parks especially if there’s been an accident.  One morning we were there, there were four accidents at the same time basically closing down the motorway.

Like most modern hotels this one does not have its own car park.  Neither did the Hilton at Docklands.  There the car park was opposite the hotel and you could park for a discounted rate.  The Doubletree is basically the same, only the car park is about half a block away and you park for the discounted rate of $30 per day versus the normal rate of $54.  Parking in the city, any city in Australia, is not cheap.  Nor for that matter is valet parking at hotels which can exceed $50 per day.

Brisbane to Melbourne

Return of hire car is simple but getting to the lane marked rental car returns was not so easy and beware it is relatively poorly signed.  The traffic heading towards the terminal is horrendous and it takes us 15 minutes to travel half a kilometer.

We are returning to Brisbane by Virgin, this time on one of their smaller planes, an Embraer E190 which has a two abreast either side seating arrangement.  Once again, it gives the impression there is more room which when seated appears to be the case.  I suspect that feeling would disappear very quickly when the passenger in front has his or her seat back in recline.

This service has the wifi entertainment system active where you can use you own device to stream entertainment content via their special app.  I had not downloaded it so Ix couldn’t test it.

The snack this time was cheese and biscuits which were quite nice along with a cup of water.  We brought extra water on board ourselves now we know we can.

After disembarking and collecting our baggage this time already circulating on the baggage belt before we got there, we stopped to have a relaxing cup of coffee at the Coffee Club outlet outside the main terminal, a fitting end to the trip, and a quiet moment back on home soil before picking up the car from long term car park and going home.