Tag: holidays

The year so far, a movie to remember

It’s three days old and I have managed to fit in a couple of movies and start writing the second Walthenson novel.

Guess what was the most important event…

I have been seeing the trailers for Little Women for a while and knew it was going to be a new version of Louisa Alcott’s novel.

To me, it was the American attempt of writing a Jane Austen story with an American slant.

To my surprise, actually not really a surprise, I remember seeing the original version many, many years ago and was quite taken with it, certainly enough to go out and buy the book.

I guess being of English extract, it seems odd to me that I should be interested in American novels, particularly those of the 19th century.  My thoughts often ran to nature and American heroes like Davy Crocket and places like the Alamo.

Certainly, there was any number of stories about the civil war.

But, most of my impressions of Americana came from Hollywood, the wild west, and John Wayne, who was, to me, larger than life.

History dripped from the storylines of many of the 12940’s and 1050’s films that had people like Humphrey Bogart.  My favorite, of course, The Maltese Falcon

But I digress…

Little women was brilliant and taking my two granddaughters one 13 and the other 16, their appreciation of the film was quite interesting, if not very positive.  In a theatre that was filled with a lot of people over the age of 40, it surprises me more teens don’t come along and see what ‘real’ films are like.

Unfortunately, we are inundated with cartoon characters, comic book heroes and remakes of remakes, the sort of rubbish that makes money, but does little for educating a teenage mind.

Perhaps this film should be made mandatory viewing for every teenager.

 

 

This is how the end of my decade went

December was a good month for getting things done.

For instance, of the four episodic stories I’m writing,

What happens after an action-packed start – I sat down and wrote the rest of the episodes except for one or two to wrap it up.  The story had been nagging at me for a few months now with bits of how I wanted to end floating around in the back of my mind, and, suddenly it all came together.

Was it just another surveillance job – THis also has been working away in the back of my mind and I managed to write another five or six episodes, an idea presenting itself.

I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – This has stalled, but I hope to get back to it.  I wrote it to a point where it now needs to go in a different direction – I’m still working on what direction, but, I have been working on the treasure map, and I must say, that’s been fun

A matter of life, and … what’s worse than death – This had reached a point where a new avenue is to be taken and is still forming in the back of my mind.

Strangers We’ve Become, the sequel to ‘What Sets Us Apart’, is now back from the editor and I have to sit down and get on with the next draft.  I’m sure there will be lots of cuts because it had gone from just under 300 pages to over 600.

What can I say, there were many nuances that had to be followed.

Likewise, the final editor’s version for Walthenson’s first case as a private detective has also returned from the editor and needs to be attended to.  This I hope will be published soon.

There are several other works in progress that are hovering between the editor and my in-tray, and I will get to these soon.

At the moment I’m trying to get a few days rest, but those pesky stories keep dragging me back to the writing pad.

Still, it’s Happy New Year to everyone and I hope your writing endeavors flourish into best sellers.

 

Searching for locations: Central Park, New York

It’s a place to go and spot the movie stars, or perhaps their dogs.

It’s a place to go for long walks on idyllic spring or autumn days

It’s a place to go to look at a zoo, though I didn’t realize there was one until I made a wrong turn.

It’s a place to go for a horse and carriage ride, although it does not last that long

It’s a place to go to look at statues, fountains, architecture, and in winter, an ice skating rink

I’m sure there’s a whole lot more there that I don’t know about.

I have to say I’ve only visited in winter, and the first time there was snow, the second, none.

Both times it was cold, but this didn’t seem to deter people.

But…

We decided to go visit another part of the park, this time walking to West 67th Street before crossing Central Park West and into the park where Sheep Meadow is.

Once upon a time sheep did graze on the meadow, but these days it is designated a quiet area inspiring calm and refreshing thoughts, except for a period in the 1960s where there was more than one counter-culture protest, or love in, going on.

And, there’s the sign to say it was Sheep Meadow,

and that’s the meadow behind the sign,

Well, I don’t see any sheep, but of course, that’s not why the meadow is named or should there be any sheep on it.  That greenery that can be seen, restoring for the spring, was a very expensive addition to the park.

As a matter of fact, there is nothing was on it, because signs were up to say the meadow was closed for the winter, a new and interesting variation on the ‘Don’t Walk On The Grass’ signs.

I’m sure I could climb the fence, or, maybe not.  I’m a bit old to be climbing fences.

So, unable to walk on the grass, we tossed an imaginary coin, should we go towards West 110th Street, or back to West 59th Street.

West 59th Street won.

and, just in case we had any strange ideas about walking on the grass, the fence was there to deter us.  Perhaps if we had more determination…

One positive aspect of the park is that you could never get lost, and the tall buildings surrounding the park are nearly always visible through the trees, more so in winter because there is no foliage, maybe less so later in the year.

There is also a lot of very large rocky type hills, or outcrops where people seem to stand on, king of the mountain style, or sit to have a picnic lunch, quickly before it freezes.

Yes, it is cold outside and seems more so in the park.

I wondered briefly if it ever got foggy, then this place would be very spooky, particularly after the sun goes down.

Conversations with my cat – 74

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This is Chester.  Somehow he has worked out it’s Christmas.

He comes down to the office and discovers I’m not there.  I can hear him wandering around until suddenly I realise there is a presence in the kitchen doorway.

Chester, a mischievous look on his face, sitting and waiting.

Waiting for what?  I stupidly ask why, and almost instantly regret it because I know what’s coming.

You’ve blocked off the path to my basket, again.  Why have you got a tree growing in the house?

You know why.

You mean to say it’s Christmas again.  I thought we got that over with years ago.

No, it happens every year.

So, what’s in the pretty coloured paper boxes?

Presents.

Oh, is there one for me?

Several actually.  Everyone decided to get you something this year.  Especially since you decided to let the grandchildren pat you.

I see him visibly shudder.

Once doesn’t mean forever.

You want those presents?

He wanders off towards the tree, and I can see he’s working out if he can climb it.  He had tried before with another tree, and I will not detail the mess that turned out to be.

I come out of the kitchen, and see him sitting a few feet away.

Chester, I say sternly, there will be no climbing the tree, am I understood.

He turns his head.  OK.  No climbing the tree.  He heads off towards the new location for his basket.

Next morning, questions need to be asked.  Decorative balls on the ground, and tinsels bits in his bed.

Good thing then he’s missing.  I’ll be just another problem to deal with Christmas morning.

 

 

 

 

Merry Christmas

For all those who celebrate Christmas

or,

Happy Holidays

for those who don’t.

But we do, and every year it is a day where the grandchildren come over and open presents, and then we have lunch.  Yes, I’m always hoping to add to the book collection.

Sometimes we have it elsewhere but this year it is at home.

After lunch, it is that time when we watch the soppy Christmas movies like White Christmas with Bing Crosby

And then it’s another year gone, and all to look forward to next year.

After of course the boxing day sales.

If only something made sense…

It seems rather fortuitous that we have a holiday at the end of the year.

I mean, who sat around a table however many years ago and decided that holidays like Christmas should be at the end of the year.  And who decided one half of the world could freeze to death on their holidays, and the other half burn?

At the end of a long year at that, you know, 52 weeks, 12 months, 365 days, where even when some of us get a weekend off once in a blue moon, it still seems like we’re working 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year.

So, who decided a week would have seven days, a year would have 12 months, and while we’re at it, who decided to give each month a different name?  And who named names?

Was it Father Time.  As children, we all learn about father time, or has political correctness stepped in and we now call ‘father time’, ‘person time’.

Anyway…

Who do we blame for this mess, we have to blame someone.  It’s not our fault.  If it were up to me I’d have Christmas in September when there’s more temperate weather in both halves of the world.

And who decided that Christmas should be attached to Winter and not Summer?

It’s like the whole mess was designed by a group of academics majoring in philosophy sitting in a back room and fed Coca Cola and Pizzas until they came up with an answer, which was probably to send it all to a parliamentary committee made up from candidates from Bellevue Asylum.

The same people, by the way, who are responsible for coordinating traffic lights.

And then there’s that other mystery I’ve never quite understood.

If you work for the FBI your first name suddenly becomes ‘Agent’.  Everyone gets that name change whether you like it or not.

Which is much the same as all Russians once upon a time calling each other ‘comrade’.  Beats the hell, I suppose, out of remembering peoples first names, especially in Russia where, to us, they’re unpronounceable.

Sorry.

You can tell it’s getting close to Chrismas.

I’ve become a gibbering idiot.

It’s that time of the year again

Isn’t it good that Christmas comes only once a once a year?

I don’t think we could afford it. Christmas presents, Christmas lunch or dinner, Christmas parties, the list goes on.

It all starts about the beginning of December, and slowly builds up to fever pitch when suddenly a great many of us suddenly realise we haven’t had time to do that Christmas shopping.

Last minute takes on a whole new meaning.

Suddenly shops are open all night and those last minute shoppers come out of the woodwork. It’s not exactly panic setting in, but it’s amazing just how many people put it off until the very last minute.

We’re exactly the opposite. Christmas shopping starts at the Boxing Day sales, especially for next years Christmas decorations, and then buying gifts all throughout the year when sales pop up.

Some people we know do their Christmas shopping after Christmas when everything is a great deal cheaper, and then give presents.

We just bought most of the food for Christmas lunch and dinner. Except some of the seafood. Lunch usually runs to about $500, but it is for 9, and is enough for lunch and dinner. Eating out it would cost upwards of $125 each, plus drinks, so it doesn’t seem so bad.

But, when you add it all up, including the presents, you’re often looking at thousands. Multiply that by the number of people lining in your city, it’s why Christmas is worth billions.

The hardest job is is putting up the Christmas tree, and it’s not a job that anyone but children like doing. Putting the tree together, then adding lights, ornaments, then tinsel, takes time. The only worse job is pulling it down again before new year’s day.

This morning we spent over 6 hours wrapping presents. It’s hard work, but it’s done.

All that’s left is the lunch, setting up which we do the day before, and it too takes time and effort, and then on the day, cooking, cooking, and more cooking.

Who said Christmas was a holiday.