I was going to say ‘Captain’s log supplemental’ and add a stardate, but the analogy might get lost because not everyone is a Star Trekker.
Needless to say, there’s always more to say about an event, especially when the mind is casting about for ideas to add or enhance a story.
It comes down to, does art imitate life, or does life imitate art? It’s an interesting question because, in this instance, art will be imitating, to a certain extent, life.
Perhaps what is lost in the telling is the inability of newly divorced people in working out where the boundaries are, whether or not they are entitled to know about the other person’s private life, and how that will make them feel.
I’m guessing when a marriage breaks down, there’s always a cause, and while the word amicable gets bandied around a lot, it’s said, but quite often not meant.
Does mummy have a boyfriend?
Does daddy have a girlfriend?
What generally happens is the children are the only ones who know what’s really happening to each of the parents, because they get transported between the two, as neither parent would want to be seen stopping the other from seeing them/
Of course, where the children are grown up and leading their own lives, the situation should be a lot easier.
But, where does this fit in with the story I hear you asking.
Marriages fall apart for many reasons. In the story, Bill acknowledges that it is largely his fault, and one suspects it’s probably an undiagnosed case of PTSD that back in the sixties and seventies was not really understood.
It led to both he and Ellen leading individual but separate lives whilst keeping up appearances for the sake of their children. There’s no doubting who brought them up, Ellen, and who had the greater influence over them, although, for the sake of this story, both couldn’t wait to leave home and live somewhere else.
They do, and together. They are not married and do not have children. They were not the cause of the breakup, and fortunately, neither of the girls blame one or the other parent.
But that doesn’t mean, over the years, that either parent hasn’t tried to use them to glean information about the other. It is how Bill discovered, some time ago, that Ellen had ‘a special friend’.
Yet, neither of the daughters have seen him, and not surprisingly, he had made sure that Bill has never seen him. It’s for a particular reason, one that will become obvious later in the story. It is, I think, a rather clever twist.
Also, Ellen is not a bad person and certainly wasn’t bad to Bill, perhaps more long-suffering. She did stay with him for a long time, mainly for the children, but also because she genuinely cared for Bill.
And Bill had not had another woman friend, not until he discovers his feelings towards Jennifer and even then, he keeps that to himself, even when he really doesn’t have to.
Unfortunately, I’m not one of those people who work well to timelines, so the very thought of using something like Microsoft Project to get my writing into some sort of timeframe, with deadlines, seemed, to me, to be a bit extreme.
Say for instance the major deadlines for a writing project are
Write an outline, with as much detail as possible, with an overarching plot, characters, key points in the novel, and scouting for locations
Writing. This could be broken down into chapters, but more practicable would be sectioned, each consisting of a number of chapters.
Editing, planning for one, two or three, or more edits
Proofreading
Send to editor
Clearly if I was going to take this approach, then I would have to allocate hours of the day specifically for writing and doing all those other writer chores in less time, and with fewer distractions.
And, it might work for a more dedicated author.
But…
I did make a new years resolution that I would try and do things differently this year.
Except…
I set a goal to restart editing of my next novel on 1st Feb. I thought, setting it so far into the year it would be easy.
It would give me the time to clear up all the outstanding, get in the way, distractions, and be free to finally finish it.
But there’s always something else to do, other than what we’re supposed to be doing.
For me it used to be going away, spending long, sleepless hours flying from one side of the world to the other had fuelled my imagination more than I expected and where this used to be the impetus to write more stories that that had not happened yet this year.
I have other stories of course, all in carious stages of writing, but if only I could focus on one story at a time.
So…
I’ve tried to set some new, more realistic goals to finish playing with these other stories as soon as I can, so come the first of March, I can resume work on the next book to be published.
Stranger’s We’ve Become, a sequel to What Sets Us Apart.
The blurb:
Is she or isn’t she, that is the question!
Susan has returned to David, but he is having difficulty dealing with the changes. Her time in captivity has changed her markedly, so much so that David decides to give her some time and space to re-adjust back into normal life.
But doubts about whether he chose the real Susan remain.
In the meantime, David has to deal with Susan’s new security chief, the discovery of her rebuilding a palace in Russia, evidence of an affair, and several attempts on his life. And, once again, David is drawn into another of Predergast’s games, one that could ultimately prove fatal.
From being reunited with the enigmatic Alisha, a strange visit to Susan’s country estate, to Russia and back, to a rescue mission in Nigeria, David soon discovers those whom he thought he could trust each has their own agenda, one that apparently doesn’t include him.
There’s something to be said for a story that starts like a James Bond movie, throwing you straight in the deep end, a perfect way of getting to know the main character, David, or is that Alistair?
A retired spy, well not so much a spy as a retired errand boy, David’s rather wry description of his talents, and a woman that most men would give their left arm for, not exactly the ideal couple, but there is a spark in a meeting that may or may not have been a set up.
But as the story progressed, the question I kept asking myself was why he’d bother.
And, page after unrelenting page, you find out.
Susan is exactly the sort of woman the pique his interest. Then, inexplicably, she disappears. That might have been the end to it, but Prendergast, that shadowy enigma, David’s ex boss who loves playing games with real people, gives him an ultimatum, find her or come back to work.
Nothing like an offer that’s a double edged sword!
A dragon for a mother, a sister he didn’t know about, Susan’s BFF who is not what she seems or a friend indeed, and Susan’s father who, up till David meets her, couldn’t be less interested, his nemesis proves to be the impossible dream, and he’s always just that one step behind.
When the rollercoaster finally came to a halt, and I could start breathing again, it was an ending that was completely unexpected.
Rodby’s generosity did not extend to the Citation taking me back to Venice, but he did fund a business class seat on a commercial flight the next morning.
I was in no hurry to go back, the overnight sojourn giving me time to make a plan of sorts. A few hours after I left the police I received a message from Alfie, with an attached sound file.
A recording of a phone call between Jaime and Larry.
“Your enemy just arranged for me to be dragged off to a police station and interrogated.”
An interesting start to a conversation.
“Which enemy?”
Good to know he had more than one.
“You know who. He was supposed to be in Venice not London, and he’s not supposed to be working with anyone, yet it seems he is.”
“On what pretext did they take you in?”
“That C4 you left in your crates in my warehouse. They think it’s mine “
“Did you tell them about me?”
“Didn’t have to, you left your name all over the crates. They’ll be looking for you.”
“Let them look. What did he have to say?”
“Annoyed that you’re going after him.”
“How does he know that?”
“How does he know anything, Larry. He does. He says his ex-boss is the one who wants you, not him, and that story you told me about him killing your brother, it’s not true.”
“He’s lied to you, just like I said he would.”
“Then that means your mother is lying too, because I called her, and she had a different version of events. I can’t trust you, and you are now very hot property and I can’t afford to be involved with you. The police have taken the crates away, so as far as I’m concerned it’s the last I want to see of them, and you. Don’t try to contact me again.”
The phone went dead.
Good. She did the right thing, though it was as expected. She could also quite easily contact him another way, but for the time being, I’d give her the benefit of the doubt.
Next, I called Larry’s mother.
Same background noise, it seemed she didn’t want to go home. Larry must be ingratiating himself.
“I spoke to Jaime, the woman Larry is purported to be romancing. He is not, or not as far as I can tell.”
“She has sense then.”
“She does now. What would Larry want with C4?”
“What’s C4?”
“Explosive.”
“Vaults. His father used to specialise in blowing safes, tried to teach the son but Larry nearly blew the both of them to the afterlife.”
“It’d have to be a very big safe.”
“You could always ask him yourself. He’s going to be around for dinner tomorrow night. Just be wary of the bodyguards. There’s three of them.”
“Things might get a little rough, do you really want that in your house?”
“Someone needs to teach the bastard a lesson. By the way, a good call from that Jaime woman, asking me about your role with my sons. She seemed surprised.”
“I wasn’t very nice to her.”
“She’s a criminal, not a thoroughly bad one like Larry, but one nonetheless. You don’t have to be nice to them. Let’s hope she doesn’t have to worry about her sons like I had to.”
That was the problem with that sort of family business. The children really have nowhere to go but join or disappear. Then it became a battle for survival, especially if you had a parent running the organisation. Then there were always expectations, and then that first kill.
Larry’s brother had never wanted that life, he wanted to live on his terms, but neither the father nor the eldest son and successor saw it that way.
“I thought I could escape all of this cloak and dagger stuff, but Larry seems to have put that on hold. Perhaps if we have a little chat he might change his mind.”
“I think it would be better than what you had in mind. He increased their guards too when he’s not here, and it’s unsettling for her, and especially me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It couldn’t be easy for her with a son like him, especially bow the police were looking for him. He was not going to get back into the country because his name will be on an alert list, so it would be interesting to see how he got back home.
He had the means, simply because he had turned up in Sorrento using none of the known methods of transportation. And he didn’t own a private jet, or at least, one that I knew of. Something else to investigate.
I called Alfie.
“Got the message. Interesting call.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Not really. But well know soon enough. Um having dinner at his mother’s tomorrow night and he will be there.”
“Then play c is off the table for the moment?”
The plan c was taking his effect and child to use as leverage. It might still be needed, depending on the upcoming meeting.
“Backburner. Where’s Cecilia?”
“I moved her to your place. Seemed the best option.”
“She will need a sniper rifle, and get herself to Sorrento tomorrow morning. Giver the address. She’ll need a site that gives a good view of the dining room. And needless to say, no advertising her presence.”
“Have you got a plan?”
“Not really. He’s not going to do a lot with his wife and daughter there, but, again, it’s Larry and he is unpredictable.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing “
“Never. Now, it seems the C4 was to crack a safe or create a diversion. You need to get the team onto finding out what he’s planning. You might want to go through ex-partners and associates in case he’s on a revenge kick.”
“Rodby said he wouldn’t be unhappy if you just shot him.”
“We’re not allowed to.”
“There are ways and means.”
“Then we’re no better than they are. We’ve had this conversation a few times.”
“We’re not winning the war, and people are getting restless. There’s talk Rodby will be replaced by a more aggressive department head.”
That was all the department needed, someone to hasten its demise. It was already vastly limited in what it could do, and in recent years reduced to little more than intelligence gathering and a few side missions. After I left, it had lost its sting in the tail. I thought Rodby was marking time for his retirement.
Now it seemed that might come earlier than expected. Was this why he was pushing the Larry project, one last hurrah?
“It won’t happen, they can’t possibly get rid of institutions like him.”
50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.
They all start with –
A picture paints … well, as many words as you like. For instance:
And, the story:
Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?
Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave. Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.
But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision. She needed the opportunity to spread her wings. It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.
She was in a rut. Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.
It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper. I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.
And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere. Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication. It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.
So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock. We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.
It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one. Starting the following Monday.
Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.
I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.
What surprised her was my reaction. None.
I simply asked where who, and when.
A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.
A week.
It was all the time I had left with her.
I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.
She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.
Is that all you want to know?
I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.
There’s not much to ask, I said. You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place, and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.
Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would. And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.
One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.
So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.
Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology. It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you. I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.
Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.
I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me, you can make cabinets anywhere.
I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job. It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.
Then the only question left was, what do we do now?
Go shopping for suitcases. Bags to pack, and places to go.
Getting on the roller coaster is easy. On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top. It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.
What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.
Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.
There was no question of going with her to New York. Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back. After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind. New friends new life.
We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.
Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever. I remember standing there, watching the taxi go. It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.
So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.
Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.
People coming, people going.
Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was. Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.
As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.
Yes, it’s that little or big furry thing that’s also known as man’s best friend, a dog.
But the word has a number of other meanings, like a lot of three-letter words.
It can also mean to follow someone closely.
If you are going to the greyhound racing, you could say you’re going to the dogs, or it could mean something entirely different, like deteriorating in manner and ethics.
Then there are those employers who make their workers work very hard, and therefore could be described as making them work like a dog.
Some might even say that it is a dog of a thing, i.e. of poor quality.
There’s a dogleg, which could aptly name some of those monstrous golf course holes that sometimes present the challenge of going through the wood rather than around it.
Tried that and failed many times!
A dog man used to ride the crane load from the ground to the top, an occupation that would not stand the test of occupational health and safety anymore.
And of course, in a battle to the death, it’s really dog eat dog, isn’t it?
This is countryside somewhere inside the Lamington National Park in Queensland. It was one of those days where the rain come and went…
We were spending a week there, in the middle of nowhere on a working macadamia farm in a cottage, one of four, recuperating from a long exhausting lockdown.
It was not cold, and we were able to sit out of the verandah for most of the day, watching the rain come and pass over on its way up the valley, listing to the gentle pitter-patter of the rain on the roof and nearby leaves.
But as for inspiration:
This would be the ideal setting for a story about life, failed romance, or a couple looking to find what it was they lost.
It could be a story about recovering from a breakdown, or a tragic loss, to be anywhere else but in the middle of dealing with the constant reminders of what they had.
It could be a safe house, and as we all know, safe houses in stories are rarely safe houses, where it is given away by someone inside the program, or the person who it’s assigned to give it away because they can’t do as they’re supposed to; lay low.
Then there’s camping, the great outdoors, for someone who absolutely hates being outdoors, or those who go hunting, and sometimes become the hunted.
This morning started with a visit to the car rental place in Vancouver. It reinforced the notion that you can be given the address and still not find the place. It happened in Washington where it was hiding in the back of the main railway station, and it happened again in Vancouver when it was hidden inside a hotel.
We simply walked straight past it. Pity there wasn’t a sign to let people know.
However…
We went in expecting a Grand Jeep Cherokee and walked out with a Ford Flex, suitable for three people and four large suitcases. It actually seats 7, but forget the baggage, you’d be lucky to get two large suitcases in that configuration.
It is more than adequate for our requirements.
Things to note, it was delivered with just over a quarter of a tank of gas, and it had only done about 11,000 km, so it’s relatively new. It’s reasonably spacious, and when the extra seats are folded down, there is plenty of baggage space.
So far, so good.
We finally leave the hotel at about half-past ten, and it is raining. It is a simple task to get on Highway 1, the TransCanada Highway, initially, and then onto Highway 5, the Coquihalla Highway for the trip to Kamloops.
It rains all the way to the top of the mountain, progress hampered from time to time by water sprays from both vehicles and trucks. The rain is relentless. At the top of the mountain, the rain turns into snow and the road surface to slush. It’s 0 degrees, but being the afternoon, I was not expecting it to turn to ice very quickly.
On the other side of the mountain, closer to Kamloops, there was sleet, then rain, then nothing, the last 100kms or so, in reasonably dry conditions.
Outside Kamloops, and in the town itself, there was evidence of snow recently cleared, and slushy roads. Cars in various places were covered in snow, indicating the most recent falls had been the night before.
We’re staying at the Park Hotel, a heritage building, apparently built in the later 1920s. In the style of the time, it is a little like a rabbit warren with passages turning off in a number of directions, and showing it is spread across a number of different buildings.
It has the original Otis elevator that can take a maximum of four passengers, and a sign on the wall that says “no horseplay inside the elevator” which is a rather interesting expression that only someone of my vintage would understand. And, for those without a sense of humor, you definitely couldn’t fit a horse in it to play with.
The thing is, how do you find a balance between keeping the old world charm with modern-day expectations. You can’t. Some hotels try valiantly to get that balance. Here, it is simply old world charm, which I guess we should be grateful for because sooner rather than later it’s going to disappear forever.
In my writer’s mind, given the importance of the railways, this was probably a thriving place for travelers, and once upon a time, there were a lot more hotels like this one.
After arriving in Hong Kong early in the morning, we were taken to the Hong Kong Conrad Hotel where we were staying for several days. We had a short sleep, then I took the grandchildren for a walk and we found Hong Kong Park, with a Fountain Plaza, waterways, a waterfall, and turtles.
Part of the fountain area.
Turtles resting on a rock
A turtle about to go in the water
The waterfall.
It was a pleasant surprise to find this park in such a highly built-up area.
Nearby was a multi-story underground shopping center that was huge, and very conveniently accessible from our hotel.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 