Yes, when you are going at it like a bat out of hell, it might be an idea to take a pause and regroup.
That being a pause as an interruption to an activity.
In music, it’s a mark over a note.
Perhaps it’s a good idea to pause recording a TV show while the ads are on. Networks don’t like it, but it makes the show make more sense without the distractions of advertisements, sometimes quite inane, or annoying.
What I just said, might give pause to my opposite number in this debate.
Have you been in a conversation, someone says something quite odd, and there’s a pregnant pause?
How did the word pregnant get into the conversation? That, of course, usually means something significant will follow, but rarely does. But it can also be a conversation killer where no one says anything.
Is that a wide eye in awe moment? You did WHAT?
Then there is the word pours, sounds the same but is completely different.
In this case, the man pours water from the bucket on the plants.
Or my brother pours cold water on my plans. Not literally, but figuratively, making me think twice about whether it would work or not. Usually not.
Or a confession pours out of a man with a guilty conscience. AKA sings like a bird. Don’t you just love these quaint expressions? It reminded me of a gangster film back in Humphrey Bogart’s day.
It never rains but it pours? Another expression, when everything goes wrong. A bit like home renovations really.
Really, it means to flow quickly and in large quantities, ie. rain pours down.
And if that isn’t bad enough, what about paws?
Sounds the same again, but, yes it’s what an animal has as feet, especially cats, dogs, and bears.
One use of it, out of context, of course, is ‘get your paws off me!’
And one rabbit paw might be good luck, but having two rabbit pows, I might win the lottery.
Some people we know have come up for a holiday in what could be described as a very touristy location.
But is it for a ‘holiday’?
They have come from one state and are staying in what could be called an apartment, not a hotel. They are here for a week.
So, they have a kitchen of sorts and can cook their own meals, unlike staying in a hotel room and having to eat out or in the hotel restaurant, and the apartment has a mini laundry.
How much different is this to being at home?
Perhaps we need to have a definition of the word ‘holiday’ and its variations.
A lot of people use the term ‘vacation’. Others use the term ‘leave’. Leave’s a difficult term because it can cover a number of types such as annual, sick, and maternity.
But whatever we want to call it, is it when you’re taking some time away from work.
But is it when you go ‘away’, that is to say anywhere but home?
You say, ‘I’m going on vacation.”
We say, “Oh, where are you going?”
Some say camping. Is that any different than staying in an apartment, or even a holiday house? Still all the same chores, cooking, cleaning, washing.
Some might say they’re staying with relatives either on the other side of the country or on the other side of the world.
There are those who go camping. Just mind the bugs, wild animals, and bears.
Some stay in self serve apartments where it’s just like being at home, only somewhere a little different.
But to truly have a holiday in every sense of the word, it seems that can only be achieved by staying in a 5-star hotel, or by going on what is a more recent phenomenon, embarking on an all-inclusive cruise where you don’t have to do anything at all.
The nights are cool, now, as we head towards summer where we’re expecting it to be a lot warmer. But, for now, the conditions are much easier than if it was in the morning.
My granddaughters favourite event is the high jump. It is by and large the most interesting of all, where where the 19 competitors each take three turns to achieve a height, and as it goes up, the numbers get less.
It starts at about 75 cms, and goes up in 5 cm increments. It can, and sometimes does. The last time the highest jump was 115 cm, and my granddaughter reached 110 cm, and only just missed 115 cm. Next time.
Her second favourite event is the hurdles, perhaps because it’s jumping, and is quite good at it, not knocking over any hurdles. There’s the 70 meters, 80 meters, and 100 meters. She did the 80 meters in under 19 seconds which is a personal best. I imagine she’ll get faster.
Next in line is the long jump, and yes, it’s jumping, but there’s a trick to it, you have to get your foot inside the board, not over it m and she has trouble not overstepping. But, she had three jumps, and got it right on the final attempt
Then we have the discus. It’s an interesting event, and there are so many different styles. Some do it really well, most probably need a lot more training, but get a throw out there. Several this time sprayed it, and every time there’s a few near misses. We all know now to keep your your eyes on it. We have two outside the white line, and one good throw, and it’s a personal best.
In between events we get to a little stargazing, and usually watch the moon rising, and then use an app called Sky Map to locate the planets. And then, since I’ve just updated my smartphone to a Galaxy 20 note, just the average one, so I can try and take some better night photos, and one is at the top of this post.
There was an 800 meter event, and she did well, even though so early in the season fitness is an issue and in such an event it takes a toll. Previously she has done a 1,500 meter race and that was a trial more than an event, and it was good in a sense that it highlighted the fact she needs to do some training.
It ends this week at a reasonable hour, and we all go home.
Next week is another week, and the opportunity to improve. What I like about this for of competition is that the focus is not on who came first or last, but the fact you may have improved, ie, a new personal best.
It’s a great concept that gets rids of the winners and losers, and makes the athletes all winners, and know that getting better is within their grasp.
Simply because I want you to wait here while I go down the shops.
How long will that be?
I don’t know. A while. Anything from half an hour to a lifetime.
Then there’s another way of using the word: While I do this can you do that.
This is more definite but still ambiguous. How long will that be?
As long as it takes. Anything from half an hour to a lifetime.
it is by definition, a period of time.
Then it gets more ambiguous, in that the arrangements say in place while he is alive.
Being a murder mystery writer and reader, it becomes a sufficient reason to kill a wealthy relative to get their inheritance. But, if murder is not in mind, then it can be anything from a half-hour to a lifetime!
Less of an enigma is this use of the word: I’m going the while away the time playing computer games.
At least you know how long that’s going to be, i.e. till you get bored.
This is not to be confused with the word wile, which means to use a cunning or devious means to get someone to do your bidding.
We’ve all heard of feminine wiles. Granddaughters are experts in using them, I can personally attest to that.
There are other meanings but these are no longer used in modern English.
We have been to Paris a number of times over the years.
The last time we visited Paris we brought the two eldest grandchildren. We took the Eurostar train from St Pancras station direct to Disneyland, then took the free bus from the station to the hotel. The train station was directly outside Disneyland.
We stayed at the Dream Castle Hotel, rather than Disneyland itself as it was a cheaper option and we had a family room that was quite large and breakfast was included every morning. Then it was a matter of getting the free bus to Disneyland.
We spent three days, time which seem to pass far too quickly, and we didn’t get to see everything. They did, however, find the time to buy two princess dresses, and then spent the rest of the time playing dress-ups whenever they could.
In Paris, we stayed at the Crown Plaza at Republique Square.
We took the children to the Eiffel Tower where the fries, and the carousel at the bottom of the tower, seemed to be more memorable than the tower itself. The day we visited, the third level was closed. The day was cold and windy so that probably accounted for the less than memorable visit. To give you some idea of conditions, it was the shortest queue to get in I’ve ever seen.
We traveled on the Metro where it was pointed out to me that the trains actually ran on rubber tires, something I had not noticed before. It was a first for both children to travel on a double-decker train.
The same day, we went to the Louvre.
Here, it was cold, wet and windy while we waited, Once inside we took the girls to the Mona Lisa, and after a walk up and down a considerable numkber of stairs, one said, “and we walked all this way to see this small painting”.
It quickly became obvious their idea of paintings were the much larger ones hanging in other galleries.
We also took them to the Arc de Triomphe.
We passed, and for some reason had to go into, the Disney shop, which I’m still wondering why after spending a small fortune at Disneyland itself.
Next on the tour list was the Opera House.
where one of the children thought she saw the ghost and refused to travel in one of the elevators. At least it was quite amazing inside with the marble, staircases, and paintings on the roof.
Sadly, I don’t think they were all that interested in architecture, but at the Opera House, they did actually get to see some ballet stars from the Russian Bolshoi ballet company practicing. As we were leaving the next day we could not go and see a performance.
Last but not least was Notre Dame with its gargoyles and imp[osing architecture.
All in all, traveling with children and experiencing Paris through their eyes made it a more memorable experience.
The first we visited Paris was at the end of a whirlwind bus tour, seven countries in seven days or something like that. It was a relief to get to Paris and stay two nights if only to catch our breath.
I remember three events from that tour, the visit to the Eiffel Tower, the tour of the night lights, not that we were able to take much in from the inside of the bus, and the farewell dinner in one of the tour guides specially selected restaurants. The food and atmosphere were incredible. It was also notable for introducing us to a crepe restaurant in Montmartre, another of the tour guide’s favorite places.
On that trip to Paris, we also spent an afternoon exploring the Palace of Versailles.
The next time we visited Paris we flew in from London. OK, it was a short flight, but it took all day. From the hotel to the airport, the wait at the airport, departure, flying through time zones, arrival at Charles De Gaulle airport, now there’s an experience, and waiting for a transfer that never arrived, but that’s another story.
I can’t remember where we stayed the first time, it was somewhere out in the suburbs, but the second time we stayed at the Hilton near both the Eiffel Tower and the Australian Embassy, notable only because the concierge was dating an Australian girl working in the Embassy. That was our ticket for special treatment, which at times you need to get around in Paris.
It was the year before 2000 and the Eiffel Tower was covered in lights, and every hour or so it looked like a bubbling bottle of champagne. It was the first time we went to Level 3 of the Tower, and it was well worth it. The previous tour only included Level 2. This time we were acquainted with the fries available on the second level, and down below under the tower.
This time we acquainted ourselves with the Metro, the underground railway system, to navigate our way around to the various tourist spots, such as Notre Dame de Paris, The Louvre, Sacre-Coeur Basilica, and Les Invalides, and, of course, the trip to the crepe restaurant.
We also went to the Louvre for the express purpose of seeing the Mona Lisa, and I came away slightly disappointed. I had thought it to be a much larger painting. We then went to see the statue of Venus de Milo and spent some time trying to get a photo of it without stray visitors walking in front of us. Aside from that, we spent the rest of the day looking at the vast number of paintings, and Egyptian artifacts in the Museum.
We also visited the Opera House which was architecturally magnificent.
The third time we visited Paris we took our daughter, who was on her first international holiday. This time we stayed in a quaint Parisian hotel called Hotel Claude Bernard Saint Germain, (43 Rue Des Ecoles, Paris, 75005, France), recommended to us by a relation who’d stayed there the year before. It was small, and the elevator could only fit two people or one person and a suitcase. Our rooms were on the 4th floor, so climbing the stairs with luggage was out of the question.
It included breakfast and wifi, and it was quite reasonable for the four days we stayed there.
It was close to everything you could want, down the hill to the railway station, and a square where on some days there was a market, and for those days when we were hungry after a day’s exploring, a baguette shop where rolls and salad were very inexpensive and very delicious.
To our daughter we appeared to be experienced travelers, going on the Metro, visiting the Louvre, going, yes once again, to the crepe restaurant and the Basilica at Montmartre, Notre Dame, and this time by boat to the Eiffel Tower. We were going to do a boat rode on the Seine the last time but ran out of time.
We have some magnificent photos of the Tower from the boat.
Lunch on one of the days was at a restaurant not far from the Arc de Triomphe, where our daughter had a bucket of mussels. I was not as daring and had a hamburger and fries. Then we went to the center of the Arch and watched the traffic.
Our first time in Paris the bus driver got into the roundabout just to show us the dangers of driving in an unpredictable situation where drivers seem to take huge risks to get out at their exit. Needless to say, we survived that experience, though we did make a number of circuits.
The innocuous explanation for this photo is that I took it at my grand daughter’s little athletics competition, now most sensibly being held on Friday evenings.
For those who don’t know how the weather can be in Brisbane, Queensland, it is generally hot, particularly from November when temperatures are between 35 and 40 degrees centigrade.
But not only is it hot but humidity, the real problem, is around 100 percent.
So at the moment we have reasonably cool evenings, ideal conditions for the young athletes.
But, where a photo could be innocuous there can a more interesting, if not sinister description.
Lurking in the back of my mind, and perhaps a lot of others, that there might be an unidentified flying object somewhere in the sky.
Of course, there might not be any, but it doesn’t mean that we stop looking, or assume, sometimes that a moving light in the sky isn’t a UFO.
And its been said that humans are quite arrogant in thinking that we are the only people in the universe.
Personally, I don’t think we are, and I keep an eye on the sky every time I’m out at night, perhaps the most likely time we might see one.
The only issue I might have is that if I am that lucky to see one, or that it lands nearby, what I would do when confronted by an alien.
You wake up to a perfect summer’s day. There’s not a cloud in the sky, the water is a virtual millpond, and the motor takes you slowly along.
You’re not far offshore, and there’s a gentle tide going out, so you turn off the engine consider putting down the anchor, but there doesn’t;t seem any need, break out the deck chairs, and you’ve decided to take an afternoon snooze.
Now read on…
When you wake up the shoreline is no longer in sight.
The water is a little more choppy, but nothing to be concerned about.
Towards shore the sky is clear and the sun is just about gone.
You look in the other direction, out to sea, and…
It’s black and forbidding, bolts of lightning on display like a fireworks show, the sort of display best seen from shore, not at sea.
The first gentle nudge of a breeze rocks the boat slightly.
A few minutes later, a rush of air hits you like a ton of bricks, almost touching the boat over to the point of no return.
You try to start the motor, but, given the situation, fate is always on the other side.
It won’t start.
You race to put up a sail, but it has to be tightly reefed in, and as it goes up it flaps violently in the ever-increasing wind gusts.
The weather changed in ten minutes. eleven if you were to not split hairs.
I’m guessing it will be the same for a lot of others.
We are currently coasting out of COVID 19 restrictions to a freer life that allows us almost all of our social norms.
October had seen the start of suburban sports again, from football, to tennis, to little athletics, and to which our youngest grand daughter has re taken up again. It consumes three or four hours of a Friday night, under lights, and involves over a thousand children aged from 5 through to 17 and parents.
It’s one of a few welcome distractions from writing, and, of course, as a number of people know, November is NaNoWriMo month, and typically for me over the last three years, the time when I write, or finish a work in progress.
This year, as noted elsewhere, I’ll be working on my YA fantasy story.
Last year, November disappeared so quick I nearly missed it. That’s what happens when its head down tail up buried in the writing. There’s little time for anything else.
Many years ago, we used to go away somewhere overseas in November, because it was a six week window to cheap airfares. Then, I guess more people realised it, started travelling, and airlines decided to increase their prices and killed that little treat.
More recently, we began to travel in the few days after Christmas, and return sometime in January, picking times that were reasonably affordable, and apparently people didn’t travel as much.
Now with COVID 19, there is no overseas travel and very little intrastate travel too because of cross border restrictions, so that will not be a distraction any time soon. And, while it may upset others, I don’t really care. More time to write, and plan for when we can go somewhere … though that appears it will be travel inside our own country.
And, hopefully, the ice hockey season might get under way, COVID 19 withstanding, and now that I’ve figured out how to get the live coverage over the internet, and at a reasonable hour of the day, it’s one sport I’m determined to make time for.
Since we can’t go, or more to the point, can’t afford to go to, the tickets to any Maple Leaf game at home in Toronto little short of horrendous for us overseas travellers, I guess I’ll survive watching it on TV.
So, I’ve shipped in a supply of Molson beer, and I’m ready to go.
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. He’s being somewhat difficult.
I’m trying to discuss the nuances of a Mexican standoff, a concept I’m sure he is fully aware of.
Except…
He keeps telling me that he’s part Siamese, so how the hell could he be in the middle of a Mexican standoff.
He then says, in a tone that drips sarcasm, I’m not Mexican either, but part British, so would it not be more appropriate to call it a British-Sino standoff?
Wow!
I’m doubting he knows what a standoff is anyway.
And since this encounter started he’s avoided looking me in the eye, except for one condescending as, when I first arrived, as if to say I was interrupting his morning siesta.
I’m wondering if it’s not time to get another cat and update our mouse catching equipment.
Oh, yes, now I’ve got his attention.
New cat, what’s this about a new car?
Have I found his Achilles heel?
We’ll find out next time when I pull the new cat routine on him
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 