Searching for locations: Kensington Palace, gardens, and high tea at the Orangery

We have been to this palace several times, the last being with our granddaughters.

Anyone can take a photo of the front door, I think I have done one better, and taken a picture of the back door, hidden behind an ice cream vendor.

Excellent security measures in place!

But after visiting the palace for as long as the children could retain interest, which was beginning to wane after an hour or so, we came out to go to the Orangery and see if we could treat them to afternoon tea.

The Orangery is at the end of this walkway. More on this experience below.

Moving on…

It was a few minutes looking at round trees and squirrels which seemed to be in abundance. Maybe the squirrels were being spoiled by eating leftovers from the Orangery.

But the gardens beckoned.

Lots of green and color. This was in winter so the sun was a bonus.

We were expecting snow, but no such luck!

Not even the pond was frozen over.

Such was the good weather in the middle of winter, a great many people turned out to bask in what little sun there was.

Don’t worry, the next day it started raining again, and didn’t end till we left.

But, there’s only so much sun one can handle in London, and we were getting hungry. Whilst not expecting it would be available, or the girls would actually like cucumber sandwiches, we were hoping for them to, at the very least, have a new culinary experience.

As for us, we have a quest of sorts, depending on which country we’re in, and in London, it is a quest to find new places to have high tea as we had exhausted the favorites like Selfridges, Harrods, and Fortnum and Mason.

We had our fingers crossed.

There are a number of stops on the tour bus, you know the one, or two, with the word Highlights in its name. It’s easier to get on one of these than try to navigate your own way around, and it took us to Kensington Palace.

The weather had improved, we were hoping it would be one of those days with a surprise or two left in it.

We saw this white building tucked away near Kensington Palace and after doing the regulation tour we were up for a cup of tea and a cake.

Instead, we found they had High Tea and that was it.

The English seem to have a knack for pulling off some of the best sandwiches, particularly those of the cucumber variety, and definitely my absolute favorite.

Here we had the Queen’s tea.

In fact, at each of the establishments mentioned above, we had their signature tea, served in fine bone china cups.

Ah, what it must have been like in the olden days of the British Empire!

The cinema of my dreams – It’s a treasure hunt – Episode 57

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

Nadia dropped me off outside the office of the newspaper, without any firm plan for our next meeting. I had told her I had to spend some time with Boggs’s in the light of this new information, and after some research at the newspaper.

I was hoping there would be back copies of the paper going back a long, long time.

But, a few years back there had been a fire with extensively damaged almost half of the building, and I couldn’t remember if it included the paper archive. Lenny, the recently appointed editor after his father passed on, had often extolled his plans for the paper, including recording the papers on film to preserve what he called a rich history of the area.

I went in to find Lenny sitting behind the main desk, feet up and reading a book, what looked to be a text on handguns.

He looked up when the door closed with a sharp bang.

“Sam Johnson, as I live and breathe. Thought you had equally grandiose plans of leaving town?”

“My father died, and it seemed a bad idea to leave my mother, being the only kid and all. You know how it is?”

Lenny had just gotten over a recent bereavement and had to move his mother to an old folk’s home because of worsening health. I’d seen him around town from time to time, but time had taken its toll, and he was never the healthiest of kids.

He was never interested in school, perhaps knowing he was always going to end up a newspaperman.

“Indeed I do? Need a job? I need a good reporter, and if I remember correctly, you were a hell of a reporter at school. How many scandals did you uncover?”

“One, and it was by chance.”

“Seemed like more than that.” He shrugged. “I’m sure, like five thousand others, you’re looking for work?”

“Was. I’m working down at the warehouse.”

“Benderby’s. Thought you hated them.”

Everyone hated them, and most of the people I knew because we were always on the end of his cruelty. His father’s pre-eminence and his own football prowess ensured he would always be better off than any of us, and able to get away with his ‘boyish pranks’.

“I did, and I do, but you know how it is. Pride has to be swallowed in these economic times. But, if you need help, maybe I could write a few articles, but without credit.”

“When can you start?”

“After a little research. I’ve come to look at the papers going back to the beginning of time. Please tell me they weren’t burnt in the fire?”

“They were. Sadly. But with did get them filmed so instead of the archive taking up half the building, it now occupies one small room. What’s the subject?”

“The Ormiston’s.”

“Ah, the treasure hunt that Boggs says he’s not on, and you’re the secret partner in crime.”

“Hardly.”

“It doesn’t exist, you know. All those maps, the legends, the lies, and then there’s the Cossatino’s. It’s an invention of theirs to drum up money from unsuspecting fools. Always has been. Oh, and was that Nadia I saw drop you off out the front. There’s a dangerous piece of work.”

“Maybe she’s changed.”

“A leopard doesn’t change its spots, you know that. She’s just trying to find out what you know, and probably feeding you false information. The girl’s a snake, always was and always will be.”

And, if I was to admit the truth, that was probably the case, another of the Cossatino’s having fun at someone else’s expense. She seemed sincere, but then I knew very well the wiles of the woman, and the troubles she had caused many a boy, and, later, many a man.

“It’s a two-way street, Lenny. You know the saying, keep friends close, and enemies closer.” It was a lame retort, but it made me feel better.

“Just don’t get caught playing on both sides of the fence. The files are that-a-way.” He pointed in the direction of a door off to the side, then went back to the book.

…

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 13

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritising.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Am I working for anyone now?

So, there I was, walking along the street, hands in pockets, trying to look like my whole world hadn’t come crashing down on me when a car pulled over to the side of the road.

I may have been down in the dumps but not that far that I wasn’t still aware of what was going on around me, the training had been that good, so I hung back a little from the curb and waited to see if was me they were after, or just some lucky rich person being dropped off.

And ready to disappear into the crowd, not that there was one, but there were three exits available and within momentary reach if necessary.

I watched the rear window go down slowly then saw a familiar face.

Nobbin.

“Get in Mr Jackson. We have more to talk about.”

I hesitated like anyone with the training I had would, as any person with common sense would too, I guess.

“It’s perfectly safe, I assure you.” He sounded reassuring.

A glance into the car showed only him and the driver, who was getting out of the car. I watched him come around to the curbside and put his hand on the door handle.

“Sir,” he said.

He opened the door. Nobbin had moved to the other side.

I shrugged, then got in. A thought: how many people had got into cars such as this, and were never seen again?”

It was not a statistic that reached any of the newspapers. Only the end result, a body washed down the Thames, with no indication of who it was, or where they came from, and no identification, or means of identification available.

The door closed, the driver went back to the front of the car, and then gently eased the car out into the traffic.

“I’m sorry for the theatrics surrounding this meeting, but it is necessary. I’m sure you were told of the need for secrecy in this matter, and I’m just reinforcing that.”

“Just who are you? And, for that matter, those people back in that building? Or, if it’s not too hard to wrap your head around, who the hell have I been working for?”

“Good questions, all. At least now I can speak freely. As you can, Mr Jackson.”

“Except I have no idea who’s side you’re on, I’m on, or anyone for that matter. This is not what I signed up for.”

“Well, to put some perspective on your situation, Mr Jackson, you were not supposed to live to tell about it. It was an operation that was created with one purpose in mind, to find an agent named

William O’Connor, and kill him. And everyone in the team assigned to the task.”

“By Severin and Maury? If so, why didn’t they kill me in the alley along with this O’Connor?”

“That is a mystery to all of us.”

“And those people back in the room. Who the hell were they?”

“Operations. Trying to find out how a sub-section could be created and function within their purview and not be detected. That’s what it was, run by two agents who had been expelled a few months back, but who were clever enough to work around all of the safeguards, recruit four agents, and then go after the man who caused the end of their careers.”

“Simple, it seems.”

“Very. And, if it had not been for you, we would never have known who or why.”

“Perhaps we should be thankful there was an explosion then, otherwise we’d all be dead.”

“Or not, because as far as I know, that was part of the operation, designed to take the target, you and the surveillance member behind you. It only did a third the job. It didn’t go off at the critical moment. No one was seriously hurt, by the way.”

“The policeman?”

“Critical but stable. He’ll survive.”

“The police who were accusing me of being the bomber?”

“Our people trying to delay you, so our man could get away. Seems they trained you better than we expected. Did O’Connor say anything to you?”

“There wasn’t much time before I found him, and Severin shot him.”

“Anything at all?”

“He knew who I was.”

“Then he knew the whole team, and who was running it.”

“He killed two of them.”

“In self-defence. They were not only surveillance but also assassins. Different training before they joined your group.”

I had thought there was something odd about them.

“Anything else,” he asked again.

“Yes. He said to tell you he found something he should, and that the evidence is… And that’s when he was shot. He didn’t tell me where it was.”

“He didn’t have to. We had set up three prearranged drop sites, so it must be in one of those. Here’s my card.”

He handed me a white card with a name and a phone number. The name was not Nobbin.

“If this Severin contacts you again, call me. I am available any hour of the day or night on that number.”

“If he doesn’t?”

“Then you will hear from me in the not too distant future. The fact you’re a survivor tells me you are resourceful and have the makings of a good agent, one I can use in my department.”

“And those others back at the office?”

“You won’t hear from them again.”

The car stopped outside an underground staircase.

“This is your stop, Mr Jackson. Thank you for your co-operation.”

Perhaps my career wasn’t in tatters. I got out of the car, and watched it leave before heading for the underground, his card safely tucked away in my pocket.

Sayings: Flogging a dead horse

This wouldn’t be so apt if it didn’t bring back a raft of bad memories, those days I used to go to the races, and back all of the wrong horses.

I had a knack, you see, of picking horses that fell over, or came dead last.

Perhaps that’s another of those sayings, dead last, with a very obvious meaning. Dead! Last!

But…

In the modern vernacular, flogging a dead horse is like spending further time on something in which the outcome is already classed as a complete waste of time.

However…

Back in the old days, the dead horse referred to the first month’s wages when working aboard a ship, usually paid for before you stepped on board the ship. At the end of the first month, the theoretical dead horse was tossed overboard symbolically, and thereafter you were paid.

It still didn’t make sense to me that someone would tell me I was flogging a dead horse, until I realized, one day, the lesson to be learned was never to get paid in advance.

Searching for locations: Niagara Falls, Canada

We visited the falls in winter, just after Christmas when it was all but frozen.

The weather was freezing, it was snowing, and very icy to walk anywhere near the falls

Getting photos is a matter of how much you want to risk your safety.

I know I slipped and fell a number of times on the ice just below the snowy surface in pursuit of the perfect photograph. Alas, I don’t think I succeeded.

The mist was generated from both the waterfall and the low cloud. It was impossible not to get wet just watching the falls.

Of course, unlike the braver people, you could not get me into one of the boats that headed towards the falls. I suspect there might be icebergs and wasn’t going to tempt the fate of another Titanic, even on a lesser scale. The water would be freezing.

The cinema of my dreams – It’s a treasure hunt – Episode 55

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

After a night with Nadia

…

Was it a revelation to discover there was a side to Nadia that I would never have suspected? All those years of being terrified of her, and her brother, had hidden it, from me and probably a lot of others.

Perhaps she hadn’t known any better, and that time away from her parents and family had opened her eyes to another world, one where you didn’t have to be the scariest person in the room.

I was going to wait until she went to sleep, but she asked me to join her on the top of the bed and then snuggled into my back. At first, I was terrified, of what, I was not sure, but after a while, realizing I was not going to get away at a reasonable hour, I relaxed, and overcome with tiredness, fell asleep.

When I woke, she was on the other side of the bed, changed out of her clothes and into demure pajamas. Had she been waiting for me to wake?

“You have a contented look about you when you’re asleep,” she said. She was facing me, awake but a certain weariness had come over her.

“My father used to call it the sleep of the just. I never quite knew what that meant. I try not to have dreams or nightmares. Please tell me you haven’t lain there watching me. That would be far too creepy.”

“Just for a bit. I’m not used to being with a man, even if there’s nothing happening. Which is good, by the way. I want us to remain friends, and soon as something else starts, that’s where it all ends..”

Obviously, she had been thinking about stuff, like all girls seem to do, making a simple friendship into something a lot more complicated, and the last thing I needed was complicated. Or Vince knocking on my door.

“I’ve got a few hours before I have to go to work, and I was going to visit a few churches.”

“Why?”

“It might help to track down the Ormiston relations and see what they’ve got to say about the treasure.”

She sat up, a more serious expression taking over. “You think there’s more to the story.”

“What story?”

“Well, it’s obvious you know about Boggs’s grandfather and old man Ormiston, the chap who owned all the land from the mountains to the sea, at one point in time. It’s where we bought our property at Patterson’s Reach. It’s a dump of a place that smells because of oil shale and gas leaks. There’s a fault line through the middle of it and makes all the land near it unsellable. The people who negotiated the deal with Ormiston were cheated, or so it goes, so there’s no love lost between the families.”

Interesting, and probably why Patterson’s Reach was an undeveloped backwater. No residential or commercial zoning.

“Good to know, and definitely a reason to stay away.”

“You want coffee?” She asked, changing the subject. “I had some sent up earlier.”

Which sent an alarm bell off in my head. What if the room service person saw me in her room? It wouldn’t take much for him to tell her father, or worse, Vince.

“He didn’t see you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

My mother said I had an expressive face.

“We have to keep this thing, whatever we have, under wraps, otherwise Bogg’s might get upset, and at the moment he’s not very happy with me.”

“Because of me?”

“Partly, but more because I have to work, and I’m no longer at his beck and call.”

“Then you’d better get up so we can trawl the churches. I could do with a religious refresher. We’re Roman Catholic by the way, and my father doesn’t believe in mixed marriages.”

“I’m not converting, nor are we getting married.”

“Pity. I reckon I’d make a good wife.” And then she laughed. “You should see your face.”

Right. Sometimes it was hard to know when she was joking. But just the same, it would never work.

I shrugged. “You could do a little better than a warehouse clerk.”

“Sometimes it’s not what you are, but how you make a person feel, and right now, I feel happy. But, as you say, I could do a lot better.”

Oddly, after hearing that, I felt a little disappointed.