Tag: Reference

In a word: Clip

It was in the news, and seemed odd to me, that a word such as clip would have any significance beyond that of having a haircut, but apparently, it does.

Maybe they’re referring to the clip of ammunition for a gun?

But for us, a clip can be part of a haircut, letting the scissors loose.

And for those children who had a father who was a hard taskmaster, you would be familiar with a clip around the ears.  It can just as easily be used, say when a car clips another car when the driver loses control.

There’s a horse that runs at a fast clip, and can be anything for that matter that moves quickly.

It can be a spring-loaded device that holds all your papers together.  Or just about anything else for that matter.

You can clip an item from a newspaper, aptly known as a news clipping.

it can be a portion of a larger film or television programme, but to me, sometimes, when a series has a clip show, an episode where someone reminisces and we see clips from previous episodes.

And last but not least, clip the wings of those so-called high flyers at the office.

Searching for locations: West Lake, Hangzhou, China

West Lake is a freshwater lake in Hangzhou, China

The tour starts in the car park about a kilometer away, but the moment we left the car park we were getting a taste of the park walking along a tree-lined avenue.

When we cross the road, once again dicing with death with the silent assassins on motor scooters.

We are in the park proper, and it is magnificent, with flowers, mostly at the start hydrangeas and then any number of other trees and shrubs, some carved into other flower shapes like a lotus.

Then there was the lake and the backdrop of bridges and walkways.

.

And if you can tune out the background white noise the place would be great for serenity and relaxation.

That, in fact, was how the boat ride panned out, about half an hour or more gliding across the lake in an almost silent boat, by an open window, with the air and the majestic scenery.

No, not that boat, which would be gre3at to have lunch on while cruising, but the boat below:

Not quite in the same class, but all the same, very easy to tune out and soak it in.

It was peaceful, amazingly quiet, on a summery day

A pagoda in the hazy distance, an island we were about to circumnavigate.

We did get a story about a woman who was a snake, a monk, and a man who married the woman, but the details in between were a little hazy.  Suffice to say it had relevance to the two pagodas on the far side of the lake.

 

There was a cafe or restaurant on the island, but that was not our lunch destination.

Nor were the buildings further along from where we disembarked.

All in all the whole cruise took about 45 minutes and was an interesting break from the hectic nature of the tour.

Oh yes, and the boat captain had postcards for sale.  We didn’t buy any.

In a word: Yellow

It was an easy choice from the start, yellow is a colour, in any number of shades from very pale to very dark.

We have yellow egg yolks, yet another y word, and depending on whether the eggs are farmed in cages or free range can dictate the shade of yellow.  Free-range gives the brightest yellow, by the way.

We have yellow cabs, but oddly enough these cabs are orange, not yellow as in this country, though the same may not be the case overseas, particularly in New York.  Good thing they are bright yellow so you can see them coming if you are crossing the road, perhaps illegally.

We have yellow bananas and lemons, probably the most common answers when asked, what is yellow?  That, and perhaps the yellow rose of Texas.

Then there is a more sinister meaning of the word, and it is associated with cowardice, and cowards are said to have a yellow streak down their backs.

If you have yellow fever then you are in a whole world of pain.

You can sometimes have what appears to be yellow skin, a sign of jaundice.

There is a yellow sea, and then there are the yellow pages, sometimes a substitute name for a telephone directory of businesses.

And lastly, an expression that comes out of the past, and not used so much these days, but people from Asia were thought to have yellow skin.

An unfortunate side-effect of not a pandemic

As writers, we put ourselves in the shoes of many different people.

We have extraordinary lives, sometimes more than one, but never more than the regulatory nine.

We get shot at, manage to run into cars and miraculously bounce off with only a few scratches, fall of three-story balconies, and sometimes get in the way of stray, and perfectly aimed bullets.

Near-death, almost dead, mostly dead, but always, somehow, we come back to life.

But, in reality, this rarely happens.  You get shot; you often die.  You get hit by a car, or, worse, a bus, you quite often die.

You certainly do not get back up again, leap out of hospital beds, and chase after bad guys.

So, what does any or all of these things feel like in reality?

In my case, I have no idea, other than what I have read, and what I’ve been told by experts it might be like.

But what if…

You are facing what might be certain death?

It’s not a realistic statement, is it?  You can’t possibly know when and how you’re going to die.

So, let’s factor in a possibility, and let’s call it Covid-19.

What do we know about it?  It is a killer if you have respiratory problems, heart problems, in fact, any sort of problem with organs, and, if you have a weakened immune system.

And, it is fat more dangerous if you have any of these conditions and are over the age of 60.

I’m 67.

I have psoriatic arthritis and use methotrexate which is an immunosuppressive medicine

It means, in not so many words, I have a compromised immune system.  That’s the doctor’s polite way of saying I’m in deep trouble if I get Covid-19.

So…

I now have to face what is most like man’s worst fear: death.

I fit into a category where I have a 40% chance of survival.

There is no cure, there is no vaccine, it is simply a matter of the body fighting off the virus itself, more or less, wait and see.

To say I’m scared of what might happen is an understatement.

So far, cases are few in this country, but everyone says that in a short time that will change … for the worse.

I hope not.

I do not want to have a first-hand experience of what it like to die.

Writing about writing a book – Day 31

I’ve been toiling away in the attic putting the pieces together, and continuing to get the story written.

This means I’ve almost got Chapter 2 somewhere near the first draft, or maybe second. I didn’t expect it would take this long, but most authors, I suppose, take a year, or more, to write a book.

It’s been hot in the attic and making it hard to think let alone write, but it is a good background for the steamy jungles of Southeast Asia, and it has given me a few more ideas for the background sequences.

I’ll share one or two of those next.

In the meantime, so far so good.

The following is the first musings of what Chapter 2 might read like:

The first sign of anything amiss was the three police cars outside the building, parked awkwardly on the plaza in front of the building. Their lights were still flashing, and several policemen were standing near them, talking.

As I went through the front revolving door I could see several uniformed and plainclothes police in the lobby. Two were by the door, perhaps to prevent someone from leaving, one on the desk with two of the building security guards, and another near the elevator lobby.

Temporary barriers had been erected, funneling everyone through a narrow gap, where building security was checking ID cards and building passes, both of which I handed to one of the guards. These men were new, I hadn’t seen them before, and, when I took a closer look, saw they were from a different security company.

I guess with the shooting of Richardson, our management had decided the existing building security was not good enough. These new men looked a lot tougher if the number of visible tattoos on each were anything to go by, the sort of men I’d call mercenaries or ex-soldiers.

One of them gave me a good look, at my face to see if it was the same as that looking back at him on the ID card. It was not a good photo of me, and it was no surprise he was having difficulty. I’d cut my hear, I was wearing glasses, and I have the makings of a three-day beard.

I had not intended to shave while I was on holiday, and, given the urgent nature of the recall, had no time to do so before coming into the office. Benton could have warned me of the new security arrangements, but it did not surprise me he didn’t.

He called over a friend, not by turning and motioning to him, but talking into his collar communication device. It was rather pointless, the man he spoke to was no more than 20 feet away. He checked me versus the ID photo and let me pass. Perhaps his eyesight was better.

In the elevator heading up to my floor, 18, I had a few moments to consider the implications. New security meant trouble. It had happened once before, and it caused all manner of trouble for me and my staff. We had been locked out of the server room then.

The elevator jerked to a stop, and the doors opened. Everything looked quiet. I could not see any police or security personnel. But waiting for me in the lobby was Benton’s personal assistant, waiting to tell me that Benton had been dragged off to an emergency meeting, one, she said, that involved share prices or stock exchange announcements. I could not make sense of what she was saying, because his hysteria had become hers. The events of the morning so far had traumatized both of them.

I smiled, trying to be my usual charming self, and then wrote a message on a scrap of paper, and gave it to her to give to him when he returned from wherever he had gone. I was quite sure it was not a meeting. She reminded me Aitchison was still waiting to see me, and then walked off.

I turned and pressed the ‘up’ button, and the doors to the elevator car I’d stepped out of opened. I stepped in, pressed the button for 59, and the doors closed. Once again I was alone with my thoughts in an elevator. I had just enough time to realize that the investigation into Richardson must be more serious than first thought if the police were still here in numbers.

I thought I might visit the 17th floor after seeing Aitchison, and see what was happening. A decision was still pending when the doors opened, and I stepped out into ‘Fantasyland’.
It was the unofficial nickname we mortals from the lower floors called the Executive levels. They were the top three in the 60 story building. The mortals lived on levels 17 through 22.

This level housed all the Assistant General Managers. We had six. Aitchison was the AGM – Security. Goldstein, who was waiting in the lobby for an elevator, was the AGM – Administration. He was a surly chap near the age of retirement and spent more time on holiday than in the office. Preparing for retirement some said. Others were less charitable.

He nodded in my direction as we passed, I came out of the elevator car, he went in. The doors closed behind me and I let the silence envelop me.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2020

In a Word: Egg

 

This is another of those words that can be used for manly different situations.

But…

What happened to it being just an egg, you know the sort you can have for breakfast, fried, scrambled or boiled.  Or eggs Benedict.

Or…

We can go down that path where the discussion is about what came first, the chicken or the egg?  Don’t ask me, it could be both.

So, now it seems egg has a few other meanings that could be considered somewhat obscure, such as,

He is a good egg.

Wow, comparing someone to an egg?  I guess I’d hate to be compared to a rotten egg.

 

What about, the crowd egged the man on to start a fight.

Well, perhaps a couple of rowdy schoolboys looking for some action behind the shelter shed, or at least that’s what we called it when I went to school (when I’m told, dinosaurs walked the earth)

 

Then,

If you do something embarrassing, then you are said to finish up with egg on your face.

Oh dear, been there a few times.

 

Or…

If you were to put all your money into that match tree forest in Ecuador, that’s the equivalent to putting all your eggs in one basket.

In other words, when you discover that the match tree forest in Ecuador was really your financial advisor’s private bank account and he’s now living in a non-extradition country, you understand just what that expression means.

In other words, diversify.

And lastly, if the above happens to you, then it’s time to go on an expedition, to find the goose that laid the golden egg.

Do you do any armchair travelling?

Once upon a time…

It was impossible to travel to any destination you would like to go to in the world.

Except perhaps if you had a travel guide, a book about a particular place, or watch a geographical documentary, which was limited to one person’s point of view.

Now, with the internet it’s possible to go anywhere, read up on any place, and even see what it looks like.

I have been along many a street in several towns or cities, over 12,000 miles away, as if I was actually there.

I can construct a path from one part of a city to another, and know exactly what there will be along the way.

The thing is, I can be thoroughly at home in a place I’ve never been to, and this is invaluable for writers.

And travellers.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve researched my way around a city long before I got there, and then know exactly where to go and what to do, even how much it costs.

It’s why I’ve never been lost in New York, London, Paris, or any of the cities, and it was particularly invaluable in Philadelphia when we only had an afternoon to see the sights.

Now, whenever I have a part of a story to write, I hit the internet.

In a story im currently writing, I’m flying from Djoubuti to an airstrip in Northern Uganda, where I’ll be leading a team along a river that is the defacto border between Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, to a possible plantation that was once an airfield.

Or that might change, but in this particular case I know exactly what the terrain is like where the river is navigable, and where I need to go and how long it will take.

Certain you would have to agree that’s better than having to go there in person and run the risk of being killed or worse.

In a word: Zip

Which, unfortunately, I do not have a lot of in my step.

At last, we have reached the end of the alphabet because I’m running out of zip to write these blogs.

So…

Zip is the sing, the energy, the spring we have in our step, that usually gets us from a to b quickly.  Without this zest, we would need to take a bus, train, or cab.

Then comes the variations like …

Zip code, we all have one of these, though in some countries it is called a postcode.

Zip it up, meaning do not speak, especially if you’re about to spill a secret.

A zip, which is a part of some types of clothing, usually in trousers, jeans, and skirts to name a few.  Some dresses have long zips, some short, all seem to get tangled at one time or another, or, in the most embarrassing of situations, split.

Then there is a colloquial use of the word zip, meaning nothing, zilch, zero, in other words, a basis for of z words.

And that’s about as much zeal I’m going to show for writing this blog, and I’m going to close the book on it.

Thank you, and goodnight.

In a word: High or is it hie

When the boss says jump, the question is usually ‘how high’.

Not that it’s possible for many of us with a challenging centre of gravity to get much elevation.

High generally means height, how far something rises above ground level, is above our heads.

That plane flies very high in the sky.

Then there’s another meaning, increased intensity, such as a high temperature, a high fever, but my favourite is, a high dudgeon.

I’m still to get a definition on what a dudgeon is.

We have secondary schools here that we call high schools. Make of that what you will

And in the idiomatic world, flying high means we are very happy, and when were left high and dry then not so much. Unless it related to a ship, in which case a lot of people would be unhappy.

We can use high just about everywhere, high hopes, high ceilings, feelings that run high, a high chair for toddlers of course, high speed which may cause s crash and land you in a high security prison.

This is not to be confused with just plain hi which is a universal greeting.

But there is another, hie, which has a more obscure meaning, to hasten or go quickly.

“Trouble in Store” – Short stories my way:  Editing becomes re-writing (4)

I’ve been looking at the role of the [policewoman, and her interaction with the shop’s participants.

I’m still working on whether she needs more or less of an introduction, but, for the time being, this is what I’m going with:

 

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 the bad news.

That was her day.

So far.

At the end of the day, 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, she could only see three heads and little else.

Damn, she thought, I’m going to have to check it out. 

She was aware of the rumors, from her co-residents and also her colleagues down at the station, rumors she hoped were not true.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2020