Tag: Serial

Searching for locations: Salzburg, Austria

Along with My Fair Lady, another of my favorite musicals was Sound of Music and having seen it a number of times over the years, it had conjured up a number of images of Salzburg in my mind, and with them a desire to go there.  We had been to Salzburg once before, an overnight train stop between Vienna and Innsbruck, an afterthought, but what we saw then was reason enough to come back later and spend several days.

A pity then the day we arrived, and for much of our stay, it rained.  But, like hardened travelers, very little stops us from doing anything, and particularly sightseeing.

We stayed at the Crowne Plaza – The Pitter in a very well-appointed room.  Breakfast included, it was a great way to start the day.  The afternoon we arrived we went for a short walk to the old city passing through the Mirabelle gardens with the Pegasus Fountain, Rose Garden, and Dwarves Garden.  Later we discovered that the archway had been used in part of the filming of Sound of Music.

We took the Festungsbahn funicular railway up to the Fortress Hohensalzburg, dating back to 1077, and the largest fortress still standing in Europe.  We spent a pleasant afternoon wandering through the rooms and exhibits and then had lunch at a café, the Salzburg Fortress Café, that overlooked the countryside.  This was where we were introduced to Mozart Gold Chocolate Cream added to our coffee.

It led us to search for the product which we eventually found in a confectionary store, Holzemayr in the Alter Markt.  Not only sis we find the Gold liqueur there was also a dark chocolate variety as well.  We bought a whole box to bring back with us, as well as a number of other chocolates including Victor Schmidt Austrian Mozart Balls, a delicious chocolate and marzipan combination.

With another afternoon to spare we visited the Salzburg Residence which previously housed Salzburg’s ruling prince-archbishops.  We visited the reception rooms and living quarters, as well as the Gallery.  It is as ornate as any of the palaces in Austria, resplendent with furnishings and paintings.  After that, the visit to Mozart’s birthplace was something of an anticlimax.

But, what we were in Salzburg for, the Sound of Music tour, and the places we visited:

The Mirabelle gardens, where Maria sang Do Re Mi in front of the gates to the gardens.  We spent some time here before and after the tour, and also has a look inside the Mirabelle Palace, which is not open to the public as it is the city administrative offices.

Leopoldskron Palace where the boating scene was filmed as well as exteriors.  They were not allowed to film inside the place and were only allowed to use the exterior.  An interesting tidbit of information, one of the children nearly drowned.

Heilbrunn palace is now home to the gazebo where Rolf and Leisl sang their song, ‘16 going on 17’.  The interesting part of this was the fact the Gazebo used to film the scene was much larger than the actual Gazebo on display.

The walkway from the fortress back to the old city passes Nonnberg Abbey where Maria was a novice, and where the opening scenes were filmed.  A number of scenes were filmed here, including the song ‘Maria’ in the courtyard.  The tour only showed the exterior of the Abbey.

Salzburg lake district where panorama and picnic scenes were filmed.  Even on the dullest of days, during which throughout our tour in continually rained, the scenery was still magnificent.

Mondsee church, where the wedding scenes were filmed.  It was surprising just how small the church really is.  It was also a stop to have afternoon tea or some ‘famous’ apple strudel.

Needless to say, we watched Sound of Music straight after the tour and managed to pick out all of the places we had been to.  The only downside to the tour, singing along to the songs.  I’m sorry, but I do not sing, and some of those that were, well, I say no more.

In a word: Brevity

Now, brevity is something that I have not been able to fully wrap my head around.

The dictionary explains Brevity as

‘concise and exact use of words in writing and speech’

So…

I remember working with a writer a long time ago who explained certain authors styles, and for James A Michener of Hawaii fame, he said Michener wrote sentences instead of words, paragraphs instead of sentences, pages instead of paragraphs and chapters instead of pages.

It was a little harsh considering I’d just read the book and had liked it, despite its length and the time it took.

But some time later I realized he was not criticizing Michener, but trying to tell me, in his, what I came to discover, interesting way, that I should strive to write more compactly.

I then came across a book by Brian Callison which was exactly that, the concise version, a story that fitted into about 200 pages.

That too was a good book and it took me a day to read it, and by his use of that economy of words, it read quickly.

Of course, I have tried over the years to emulate both styles, and to a certain degree, failing, because I think I have created my own style which is somewhere in between.

Still, when editing, it is always in the back of my mind that I should be

Using words instead of sentences

Using sentences instead of paragraphs

Using paragraphs instead of pages, and

Using pages instead of chapters.

The chapters, he said, with an air of amusement, will always take care of themselves.

 

In a word: Ghost

Have you seen one?  I haven’t.  Yet.

I’ve stayed in a few places where ghosts were purported to be roaming the passages at night, but apparently not the night I was staying.

And that’s something else that I have a problem with, why is it ghosts only come out at night, or is that just the perception I have hot from reading up on the subject.

Maybe my view of ghosts is somewhat stilted, after all, I think my first introduction to ghosts was watching The Centerville Ghost, a movie I saw on t.v. when I was very young.

You have to admit Hollywood’s perception of ghosts is quite interesting.

 

But…

Do you think they are real?  Do I think they are real?

I think I would have to be presented with some fairly solid evidence they exist, but perhaps not to the point of meeting one.

There are, it seems countless examples of ethereal forces, you know, wind blowing where there’s no wind or draught outside, room temperatures dropping for no apparent reason, knocking, rattling of chains, strange noises like low moaning.

 

And yet…

There are hotels you can stay in such as the Chelsea Hotel in New York, where it’s possible to run into Sid Vicious.

Sorry, not staying there any time soon.

Then there’s the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel in Los Angeles where it’s possible to run into Marylin Monroe, who lived in room 229.

That could be an interesting encounter.

Another is the Westin St Francis in San Francisco where the actress Virginia Rappe died while attending a party held in Fatty Arbuckle’s room, Arbuckle’s room, who was later accused of assaulting and murdering her, and whose career tanked after the incident.

Her ghost is seen moving about the hotel tearing her hair out.  It seems all of the spectral activity occurs on the 12th floor.

 

Good to know if I decide to stay there.  I wonder if they have a 13th floor?

Perhaps in too old to be running the gamut of paranormal experiences, the old heart is not as strong as it used to be.

In a word: Vision

I had one myself once, whether it was a peek into my future, or whether it was just playing out a scene for one of my stories, it was rather intense.

That variation of the word vision is one that uses one’s imagination. I do it quite a lot, and I call it the cinema of my dreams.

But…

Vision, in the simplest sense of the word, is sight, what you see.

People can try to make it better, like movie studios, who have called it rather interesting titles such as VistaVision or Panavision, either of which sounds quite remarkable, and it may have been back in the day, but it’s probably quite ordinary these days.

A vision, in another sense, might be something like a dream as mentioned before, which might happen when we are asleep, but if awake, it might be because we are very bored with our job and we’re imagining what it would be like at Santorini or the Bahamas, or anywhere but where you are now.

It might also describe our particular slant on what else we would like to happen, whether at work or somewhere else, but it’s usually confined to our closest circle of friends. Bosses never invite nor want to hear plebs ideas of improving their lot.

Hence, I have a vision…

But no one will listen. Perhaps if I was Martin Luther King, things might be different.

Then, at the end of it all…

There are visions and then there are visions, like seeing something that no one else can see, whether driven by hallucinogenic drugs or magic mushrooms, or you just happened to be there to see what no one else could.

Dragons, lizard people, or the Virgin Mary.

And no, I have not seen any of the above.

Yet.

Searching for locations: No two sunrises are the same – 2

Oreti Village, Pukawa Bay, North Island, New Zeland

On the southern tip of Lake Taupo

Our first morning there, a Saturday.  Winter.  Cold.  And a beautiful sunrise.

20180812_073230

This was taken from the balcony, overlooking the lake.

The sun is just creeping up over the horizon

20180812_073241

It gradually gets lighter, and then the sun breaks free of the low cloud

It lights up the balcony

20180811_074651

And the trees just beyond, a cascade of colorful ferns.

20180811_074622

It looks like it’s going to be a fine day, our first for this trip, and we will be heading to the mountains to see snow, for the first time for two of our granddaughters.

A matter of life and … what’s worse than death? – Episode 28

For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.

Whilst I have always had a fascination with what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.

And, so, it continues…

 

By the time they reached the outskirts of Munich, what the Standartenfuhrer considered their biggest hurdle, it was quite dark and almost impossible to see where they were going.

The whole city seemed to have disappeared so effectively was the blackout.  

But there was one benefit, there was little or no traffic on the roads, which lessened the chance of running into another car or truck.

And it was time to refill the tank with two more petrol cans, leaving two remaining.  Filling up now, the Standartenfuhrer said, would get them to Innsbruck.

He sounded confident, but Mayer got the distinct impression it was mostly that he was putting on a brave face.  There had been one instance, the checkpoint before Munich where he nearly lost his nerve.  For the first time, there had been SS guards at the checkpoint, and which had been entirely unexpected.

An SS officer of the same rank had been summoned and he had requested their written orders.  They had paperwork, but Mayer wasn’t sure if it related to their current situation, further confirming his belief this had been a very carefully planned operation to get him out of Germany, and that there was a more pressing reason why.  It definitely had something to do with the V2’s, but had their intelligence services found out about something else, something he didn’t know about?

Given the level of risk to the two men with him, and that at every turn there was a possibility of capture or death, given the level of planning and the run so far, one he would have never thought of trying on his own, he didn’t have a very high level of confidence that they would get away with it.

Those in the SS were not fools, trusted no one, believed nothing they were told, and disregarded anything written on paper.  Check, double-check, then check again.  Take nothing as read.  The document he’d been given on what made a first-class SS officer in the eyes of the Reich, was fundamentally not him, nor most of the German population.

The officer at this checkpoint reminded him of the one who had shot the shooting in the hotel, and for at least ten tense minutes, during which time the other two had conferred quietly in English, one suggestion they cut and run.

That would have invited a hail of machine-gun fire that none of them would survive.

Both looked visibly relieved when he returned, having obviously called the name of the officer who had signed the order.  The only explanation he had for this was that the level of discontent among officers Military of SS must be greater than he thought.



They managed to cross over into Austria without any problems, the route they had taken, a series of back roads and tracks which had been given to them.  Once again, Mayer was surprised that so many people could be working against their own country, but, of what he’d seen, conditions were harsh no matter which part of Germany they were in.

The war was not going the way the German people were being told, and it was hard to see any resolution of the conflict any time soon.

Perhaps everyone in the high command was hoping the new V2 rockets were going to change the country’s fortunes in the war.  If they were, they were going to be bitterly disappointed.  What they needed was the jet-propelled fighters and bombers, something that remarkably had not been implemented years earlier, and would have given them air superiority.

He’d worked on those early jet engines and they were remarkable, and faster than anything the British or the Americans had.  It was hard to comprehend why high command had not pushed forward the new jet-propelled planes that Belin had finally decided to implement.  

And just when the trio had agreed that everything would work out about 100 kilometers from Innsbruck, on the road to the Italian border crossing, they took the wrong route.  It was a mistake brought on by tiredness, and a momentary lapse in concentration.

A checkpoint where there shouldn’t be one.

© Charles Heath 2020

“Trouble in Store” – Short stories my way: Editing becomes re-writing (8)

It’s now time to look at the shopkeeper’s involvement, and there’s more to him and his activities than meets the eye.

With this event, it appears his luck is about to run out.

 

This wasn’t the shopkeeper’s first hold up.  In fact, over the years there had been a dozen.  But only one got reported to the police, and that was only because the robber was shot and killed.

He’d taken a bullet that night, too, which, from the police point of view, made him a concerned citizen simply defending himself.

The rest had been scared off by the double-barrel shotgun he kept under the counter for just such emergencies.

The young punk who came into the shop with his girlfriend had pulled out the pistol and told him if he reached for the shotgun he’d shoot him.  The kid looked unstable and he’d backed away.

When the kid collapsed, he should have gone for the shotgun, but instead, he thought he could get to the gun before the girl realized what was happened.  She wasn’t an addict and clearly looked like she was only along for the ride.  Her look when the kid pulled out the gun told him she’d known nothing about her partner’s true intentions.

But, he wasn’t fast enough, and she had the gun pointing at him before he’d got past the counter.

From one pair of unpredictable hands to another.

Like the girl, he was just as surprised when the customer burst in the door, just before closing time.

The situation might have been salvageable before the customer came in the door, getting the girl to go along with the robbery being about money, but there was no denying what the kid on the floor’s problem was.

Damn.

He had to try and salvage the situation simply because there was a lot of money involved, and other people depending on him.  He looked at the boy, on the floor, then the girl.

“Listen to me, young lady, you would be well advised to let this man go as he suggests.  And, 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.  “No one’s going anywhere, so just shut the hell up and let me think.”

The storekeeper glanced over at the customer. 

He’d seen him come into the shop once or twice, probably lived in the neighborhood, the sort who’d make a reliable witness, either a lawyer or an accountant.  Not like most of the residents just beyond the fringe of respectability.

If only he hadn’t burst into the shop when he did.

 

© Charles Heath 2018-2020

In a word: Air

Yep, another of those interesting little words that mean more than it appears.

Aside from the fact it is the air that we breathe, it can also be used to describe music.

It can be a breath of fresh air, though it’s hard to say where in this ever increasingly polluted atmosphere than we could literally draw one, except on a mountain top, where conversely it would be hard to breathe at all.

Have the air sucked out of us, well, that literally isn’t possible unless some madman comes up with a weird sort of vacuum cleaner, but that might be an episode for the X-Files.

He had an air about him, or her, as the case might be, which might refer to a sort of deference or manner.   There again that air might be one of boredom, which is what a lot of students seem to have in class.

Sorry, been a teacher, and know well the expressions on their faces.  Had one myself once, and finished up on the end of a chalkboard eraser.  Yep, in the good old day’s teachers used to chuck stuff at us recalcitrant students to get our attention, and not undergo a storm of protest from irate parents.

These days those same parents would most likely air their grievance, opinion, or view to the headmaster.

I’m guessing that same headmaster would be wishing those same parents to vanish into thin air, though I’m not sure how that would be possible.

And lastly, television stations air shows.

Weird, eh, how such a simple word can be used in so many contexts.

In a word: Blind

I’m sure we’ve all been blinded by the light!

Oncoming headlights, a bright light flashed in our eyes or walking into a dark room and a halogen light suddenly snaps on.

You’re still seeing red flashes for hours afterwards.

Literally, blind means you’re not able to see anything, i.e. you are visually impaired.  That’s the first meaning of the word people will think of.

But…

It’s another of those words with a few other meanings, such as,

A blind is a window covering; usually it goes up and down, and some you can see through slats.  Very good for nosey parkers, and subplots in stories.

Being blind to the truth means that you refuse to accept it for specific reasons, generally brought on by a belief or a prejudice

It can be a hidden enclosure from which to observe or shoot animals

And for the more interesting uses

Blind drunk, I think a lot of people have been there

Flying blind, pilots do it at night, but some of us have figuratively done it a few times, but not in a plane

And lastly, a blind tasting, where you’re not sure what you’re going to get, but usually it’s for a wine tasting, to see if you can tell what’s good and what’s swill.

Sadly I can never tell the difference, which is why I usually stick to beer.

 

 

 

Writing a book about a book – Day 35

Time now to bring in the police and this is in the form of Chief Inspector Gator, an odd sort of man who fits the mold of those ubiquitous policemen who don’t look like policemen but have a very sharp mind.

I guess watching too many Columbo episodes has had an effect on me.

 

The police officer who came to interview Aitchison arrived as I was leaving.   He nodded at me and announced himself as Chief Inspector Gator as I closed the door behind him.  My only thought of him was that he didn’t look like a policeman, and didn’t give him another thought.

Merrilyn’s expression had transformed into one of dismay, like the moment the sun went behind a cloud, and no doubt the result of learning Richardson’s fate.

“Shocking news isn’t it?” she said.

“Not good for the company.  Who found him?”

“One of the building security guards doing his rounds.  He literally fell over him, or so I heard.  There was a blackout or power failure and the lights failed to go back on.  We have been advised it was something to do with a circuit breaker.”

“So there was power everywhere, except that floor?”

“I don’t know.  But news has also just come through advising there was a burglary attempt in the basement computer storeroom.  No one can tell if any equipment has been stolen yet.  I’m sure you will be informed about it soon.”

“Another excuse for Benton to pester me,” I sighed.  “Security must have had a rough night last night.”

“That, and pleading that they are understaffed.  Mr. Aitchison thinks they are trying to use that as an excuse to draw attention away from their lack of responsibility.”  She looked at me with a serious expression, and lowered her voice, “I have to organize an emergency board meeting, and to be honest, I don’t know where to start.  On top of everything, Mr. Halligan is also dead, in tragic circumstances.  I could not imagine dying at home, alone.”

“It’s a terrible business.  By the way, I didn’t get that promotion.  You were right.  There’s a very long list ahead of me.  Until I am summoned again, try not to let it upset you.”

She tried to smile, but her heart was not in it.

 

When I stepped into the elevator and reached for the 18th-floor button, I realized I had acquired a case of the shakes.  Aitchison’s fear was infections, and perhaps I should have had a drink before I left his office.

As the doors closed, I felt a shiver go down my spine as a thought came into my head, the ramifications of which had many possibilities.  In the greater scheme of things, it would not have registered, not until now.

There was an instance when this new, or other, network could have been installed.

Some months ago we had had the telephone system re-engineered to move away from the conventional land-based systems offered by the major Telco’s and moved to VOIP, a less expensive option.  These new desktop phones, though looking exactly like those they replaced, used the network connection to run.

I had not been asked to supervise their installation, that had been done by a team of experts from the United States, flown out especially to do the work, and at the time, the whole building had been closed off for the entire weekend in order to carry it out.  I came in, just to make sure nothing on our network system had been compromised, but it would have been a perfect opportunity to lay down the foundations of another system.

Whether it was the case or not, the installation crew had given me full access to look over their work, and I’d not seen any indications of anything other than the installation of the telephones.  Of course, I was not looking for anything else, and it was possible they could install almost anything, and I would be none the wiser, simply because I was not a wiring expert.  Even if I looked now, I was not sure what I’d be looking for.

And then there was the ongoing office refurbishment, where whole floors were being evacuated, gutted, and rebuilt.  It had recently been our turn, but our renovation had one minor difference.  The refurbishment had worked around the server room.  It could not be moved or taken offline.

But during the renovation our movements to that floor and the server room had been restricted, and, at times, we had not been allowed near it.

Planned, or coincidental, or something else.

Now away from Aitchison, I was able to think more rationally and consider the points he made.

It was common knowledge Halligan had a bad heart and scheduled to have surgery soon.  His death would not surprise some considering his workload and stress factor, and it was understandable he could have died of a heart attack.  The fact it had occurred now was probably the only reason why it appeared suspicious.

The question was, did Aitchison know more about Halligan than he was letting on?

The elevator arrived on my floor, and I sent those thoughts to the back of my mind.  I’d worry about them later.

 

© Charles Heath 2016-2020