Yes, I see the lighthouse, what’s it doing all the way out there? The thing is, these places are sometimes so remote, I start thinking I should rent one for 6 months and then, without any distractions, I’ll get the blasted book finished.
Until there’s a shipwreck, of course!
Light is of course light, duh. Turn on the switch and let there be light.
Hang on, didn’t someone else say that, millennia ago? Someone famous? It’s on the tip of my tongue.
No! It’s not cyanide…
So, whilst we need it to see everything, it has another meaning…
My, that’s a light load your carrying today, which means not very heavy.
Or, that’s a light-coloured jumper, which means pale.
Oh, and did you light the fire?
And, after you light the fire, do you light out to a safe haven in light traffic because really it was arson, and you got a light sentence the last time enabling you to do it again.
If you are trying to rob someone, then it was a kilo light.
And after a long hard struggle, did you light upon the correct answer?
This is not to be confused with another similar word, lite.
It seems this is only used for describing low-calorie drinks and food, such as lite beer, which seems to me to be a lazy way of not using light
Still, there’s not much other use of the word except as a suffix -lite, but then you’d have to mention -lyte as well.
The message here – just use the damn word light and be done with it.
If it was a car, or plane, or something else, it would have the consumer protection agencies up in arms, but because we are in the middle of a pandemic, still, it seems anything goes.
But let’s be very clear about one very important point, I am not an anti vaxxer, nor do I think vaccines, and particularly those that save lives of potential Covid victims, should be ignored.
If anything, if a vaccine is available, take it. The evidence overwhelmingly suggests it will save your life.
My commentary is mostly about the side effects, and the long term efficacy, and particularly in relation my own case.
I’m not a doctor, but I can read, and have a modicum of understanding statistics, and if the data we are being given is correct, there is a small area of concern for an even smaller percentage of the population.
Firstly, I don’t believe the vaccines have been properly, or sufficiently tested on people like me. I can understand why the drug companies wouldn’t because if a large percentage of us were adversely affected, it would affect credibility.
Instead, there are ‘recommendations’, and in my case, it is to have the Astra Venica vaccine simply because I’m over 65. Personally if anything can go wrong with me, it will, so I figure I’ll get the Phizer vaccine, only my age group cannot have it.
It’s for those under 65.
But even that’s not my real concern.
What bothers me is the number of Governments and people who believe once a certain percentage of the population is vaccinated, everything will go back to normal.
The evidence we are reading every day proves otherwise.
Vaccinated or not, you can carry the virus and pass it on. Sure, at the moment, if you are vaccinated, you should not be hospitalised, but even that does not seem to be the case. Vaccinated people are also getting very ill, and worse, dying.
Is it because they have not had it for long enough to build up an immunity, or is it because, and I heard this report the other day, because the vaccine does not stir up a immune response in certain people, and therefore leaves them vulnerable.
Or is it happening to those who’ve had the vaccine for over six months and it’s effectiveness is waning, hence the release of the news that drug companies are working on booster shots.
Or is it simply the case that everyone conveniently forgot to mention that viruses evolve, and only get worse, more intense, and more resistant to the anti viral vaccines over time. Look at our current anti biotic delimma where they are all but useless for certain bugs.
Someone said we pulled off a miracle creating a vaccine in such a short time, but that vaccine was for early versions of the virus. As the virus evolves, and why real vaccines take years to develop is the fact they have time to observe these changes and incorporate the remedy.
In this case we are playing catchup, and by the number of cases and outbreaks all over the world, we are losing the battle.
I’ll be getting the vaccine, my choice not theirs, when it’s available, but I fear that is not going to be enough.
I don’t know much about the Greek alphabet, but I do know Delta is bad. What then will be the situation by the time we reach Omega.
I earnestly suggest you do not watch the Charlton Heston movie version of ‘The Omega Man’. But if you wait long enough, it might just come true.
Having gone on several of the Disney rides in locations other than in the US, I had no first-hand knowledge of what it might be like.
That aside, I have had a wealth of old movie viewing to fuel my imagination for what to expect, and those experiences didn’t let me down. Hollywood’s vision of the jungle has not changed much in the last 50 odd years.
And, with the Humphrey Bogart classic, The African Queen, firmly planted in the back of my mind, and this latest venture set in the same period, I was ready for anything the jungle could throw at me.
In this outing, the premise is a treasure hunt, not for actual treasure, but a life saving flower that grows on a tree somewhere in the jungle. Adventurers have been seeking it for many centuries, including a hapless expedition of Spaniards.
It was, as it should be, the stuff of legends.
We have all the usual suspects, man eating natives, poison darts, killer creatures including lots of snakes (and I hate snakes), rapids and waterfalls. And, yes, there’s the boat being saved at the last second from going over the edge. I had to wonder if that was a ‘feature’ of the ride in reality.
Visually, the jungle never looked better. If indeed, it was the actual jungle.
Like ‘The Mummy’ there is the hapless brother providing the comic light relief, and, I have to say, he did it quite well.
There is the strong willed, self-sufficient woman ready to face any danger, well, just about everything, except for one simple fear, for which it seems all superheroes have that makes them human.
And the fact she wears pants is the running gag.
Then there’s the Skipper, not the captain, of the boat, who needs no introduction. Oddly though, he drives the boat like it’s an instalment of Fast and Furious. And for those who remember a kangaroo called Skippy, will not be surprised by the heroines retort when he calls her ‘pants’.
Of course, it would not be as exciting if there wasn’t the archetypal baddie and being set around the time of the first world war, it had to be a German who is seeking the ‘prize’ in order to win the war for Germany. It was played with just about the right amount of dripping menace.
For light-hearted entertainment, and one of the better two hours I’ve spent in a movie theatre, there are, surprisingly, a few twists and turns you don’t expect.
Then there is an obvious rapport between the two leads, sometimes missing in stories like these, but their relationship didn’t get in the way of reaching the satisfactory conclusion.
All in all, it was one of the more entertaining films I’ve seen in a while, one where at the end, I found myself wanting more. Perhaps it will be like Pirates of the Caribbean, and we’ll get to go on another ‘cruise’.
We walked another umpteen miles from the exhibition to a Chinese restaurant that is going to serve us Chinese food again with a beer and a rather potent pomegranate wine that has a real kick. It was definitely value for money at 60 yuan per person.
But perhaps the biggest thrill, if it could be called that, was discovering downstairs, the man who discovered the original pieces of a terracotta soldier when digging a well. He was signing books bought in the souvenir store, but not those that had been bought elsewhere.
Some of is even got photographed with him. Fifteen minutes of fame moment? Maybe.
After lunch, it was off to the station for another high-speed train ride, this time for about two and a half hours, from X’ian to Zhangzhou dong.
It’s the standard high-speed train ride and the usual seat switching because of weird allocation issues, so a little confusion reigns until the train departs at 5:59.
Once we were underway it didn’t take long before we hit the maximum speed
Twenty minutes before arrival, and knowing we only have three minutes to get off everyone is heading for the exit clogging up the passageway. It wasn’t panic but with the three-minute limit, perhaps organized panic would be a better description.
As it turned out, with all the cases near the door, the moment to door opened one of our group got off, and the other just started putting cases on the platform, and in doing so we were all off in 42 seconds with time to spare.
And this was despite the fact there were about twenty passengers just about up against the door trying to get in. I don’t think they expected to have cases flying off the train in their direction.
We find our way to the exit and our tour guide Dannie. It was another long walk to the bus, somewhat shabbier from the previous day, no leg room, no pocket, no USB charging point like the day before. Disappointing.
On the way from the station to the hotel, the tour guide usually gives us a short spiel on the next day’s activities, but instead, I think we got her life history and a song, delivered in high pitched and rapid Chinglish that was hard to understand.
Not at this hour of the night to an almost exhausted busload of people who’d had enough from the train. Oh, did I forgot the singing, no, it was an interesting rendition of ‘you are my sunshine’.
The drive was interesting in that it mostly in the dark. There was no street lighting and in comparison to X’ian which was very bright and cheerful, this was dark and gloomy.
Then close to the hotel our guide said that if we had any problems with the room, she would be in the lobby for half an hour.
That spoke volumes about the hotel they put us in.
The only things moving on this upcoming voyage out into the unknown, is the planets on our screen.
When we were last on the bridge, the chief engineer, yes, we still have them in the 24th century, was telling us it was a no go.
When you’re standing on a ship that cost more money than you can imagine, then double that unimaginable amount, and realise it would normally build two other smaller ships, then you can be assured that someone very high up in the chain of command, sitting in an office somewhere safe back on the planet, who may or may not be wishing they were in your place, would be anything but happy.
I was lucky that I didn’t meet that someone during the recruitment process, only later on an inspection of the ship just before the handover from the builder to Space Command.
This was not the first, but the first of a new class. Bigger, better, faster, more suitable to space travel than those that came before.
And, having several junior officers with a passion for history, one of them came up with a simile for our predicament. When new cars were created, way back in the 20th century, the first of the series always had teething problems. That’s why you wouldn’t buy the first of a series.
We didn’t have that luxury, but here’s the thing, it was based on an earlier model with a few new enhancements. It was one of those enhancements that was the problem.
A few minutes after the captain went to his quarters, his voice came over the speaker system. “Number One?”
Ok, I have a name, but trying to get the captain to use it might be difficult, what with regulations, and his rather stiff manner, each of which might get in the way.
“Sir?”
“Go down to engineering and get a report on progress.”
I could do that over the internal comms. What was going on? Belay that thought, I was not going to question an order.
“Yes sir.”
I glanced in the direction of the second officer, and he nodded, getting out of his seat. He would take charge of the bridge, even though we were going nowhere.
He walked over to my position, and I headed for the lift.
Automatic doors. It was not an innovation, but when I came aboard a week ago, they were not working properly, so using the lift to me was a leap of faith.
A few seconds later and what might have been from the top to the bottom in a skyscraper, the lift slowed, then stopped. The doors didn’t open.
Don’t panic. Just wait and breathe. There you go. The doors opened…
As some may be aware, but many not, Chester, my faithful writing assistant, mice catcher, and general pain in the neck, passed away some months ago.
Recently I was running a series based on his adventures, under the title of Past Conversations with my cat.
For those who have not had the chance to read about all of his exploits I will run the series again from Episode 1
These are the memories of our time together…
This is Chester. He’s pushing his luck.
We have a long-standing issue of where he can sleep and where he cannot. He has two baskets, lined with very warm and comfortable blankets, one in our room, and one in the dining room.
Despite this, he seems to think he can sleep on the pillows in the granddaughter’s rooms, the end of our bed, on the sofa and on the lounge chair, and catching him out had=s been the catalyst for a number of arguments.
And we all know who lost those.
For a long time, he would not go into our 15-year-old granddaughter’s room, mainly because she had tormented him from an early age, but recently he had finally made up with her, but no, sleeping on her pillow was not part of the bargain.
After getting admonished for sitting on the settee, I wondered where he had got to, and it was only by chance I looked in the room. He now got a second serve for sleeping on her pillow.
And, no, giving me the sad eyes was not going to weaken my resolve.
Having gone on several of the Disney rides in locations other than in the US, I had no first-hand knowledge of what it might be like.
That aside, I have had a wealth of old movie viewing to fuel my imagination for what to expect, and those experiences didn’t let me down. Hollywood’s vision of the jungle has not changed much in the last 50 odd years.
And, with the Humphrey Bogart classic, The African Queen, firmly planted in the back of my mind, and this latest venture set in the same period, I was ready for anything the jungle could throw at me.
In this outing, the premise is a treasure hunt, not for actual treasure, but a life saving flower that grows on a tree somewhere in the jungle. Adventurers have been seeking it for many centuries, including a hapless expedition of Spaniards.
It was, as it should be, the stuff of legends.
We have all the usual suspects, man eating natives, poison darts, killer creatures including lots of snakes (and I hate snakes), rapids and waterfalls. And, yes, there’s the boat being saved at the last second from going over the edge. I had to wonder if that was a ‘feature’ of the ride in reality.
Visually, the jungle never looked better. If indeed, it was the actual jungle.
Like ‘The Mummy’ there is the hapless brother providing the comic light relief, and, I have to say, he did it quite well.
There is the strong willed, self-sufficient woman ready to face any danger, well, just about everything, except for one simple fear, for which it seems all superheroes have that makes them human.
And the fact she wears pants is the running gag.
Then there’s the Skipper, not the captain, of the boat, who needs no introduction. Oddly though, he drives the boat like it’s an instalment of Fast and Furious. And for those who remember a kangaroo called Skippy, will not be surprised by the heroines retort when he calls her ‘pants’.
Of course, it would not be as exciting if there wasn’t the archetypal baddie and being set around the time of the first world war, it had to be a German who is seeking the ‘prize’ in order to win the war for Germany. It was played with just about the right amount of dripping menace.
For light-hearted entertainment, and one of the better two hours I’ve spent in a movie theatre, there are, surprisingly, a few twists and turns you don’t expect.
Then there is an obvious rapport between the two leads, sometimes missing in stories like these, but their relationship didn’t get in the way of reaching the satisfactory conclusion.
All in all, it was one of the more entertaining films I’ve seen in a while, one where at the end, I found myself wanting more. Perhaps it will be like Pirates of the Caribbean, and we’ll get to go on another ‘cruise’.
To write a private detective serial has always been one of the items at the top of my to-do list, though trying to write novels and a serial, as well as a blog, and maintain a social media presence, well, you get the idea.
But I made it happen, from a bunch of episodes I wrote a long, long time ago, used these to start it, and then continue on, then as now, never having much of an idea where it was going to end up, or how long it would take to tell the story.
That, I think is the joy of ad hoc writing, even you, as the author, have as much idea of where it’s going as the reader does.
It’s basically been in the mill since 1990, and although I finished it last year, it looks like the beginning to end will have taken exactly 30 years. Had you asked me 30 years ago if I’d ever get it finished, the answer would be maybe?
My private detective, Harry Walthenson
I’d like to say he’s from that great literary mold of Sam Spade, or Mickey Spillane, or Phillip Marlow, but he’s not.
But, I’ve watched Humphrey Bogart play Sam Spade with much interest, and modeled Harry and his office on it. Similarly, I’ve watched Robert Micham play Phillip Marlow with great panache, if not detachment, and added a bit of him to the mix.
Other characters come into play, and all of them, no matter what period they’re from, always seem larger than life. I’m not above stealing a little of Mary Astor, Peter Lorre or Sidney Greenstreet, to breathe life into beguiling women and dangerous men alike.
Then there’s the title, like
The Case of the Unintentional Mummy – this has so many meanings in so many contexts, though I image back in Hollywood in the ’30s and ’40s, this would be excellent fodder for Abbott and Costello
The Case of the Three-Legged Dog – Yes, I suspect there may be a few real-life dogs with three legs, but this plot would involve something more sinister. And if made out of plaster, yes, they’re always something else inside.
But for mine, to begin with, it was “The Case of the …”, because I had no idea what the case was going to be about, well, I did, but not specifically.
Then I liked the idea of calling it “The Case of the Brother’s Revenge” because I began to have a notion there was a brother no one knew about, but that’s stuff for other stories, not mine, so then went the way of the others.
Now it’s called ‘A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers’, finished the first three drafts, and at the editor for the last.
I have high hopes of publishing it in early 2021. It even has a cover.
I’d been on the starship for almost three hours when…
…
The captain was coming up from the earth station by transport, not wanting to trust the transporters, and I’d just finished the orientation of the ship by the second officer, and had arrived on the bridge to see various crew members hunched over their consoles.
The captain had told me, before stepping onto the transport, that we would be leaving the dock shortly after he arrived.
Nothing I’d seen so far had led me to believe it would be going anywhere, anytime soon.
Nevertheless, the crew briefing had run smoothly, the second officer assigned to correlate the complaints/problems list, and everyone else had taken their assigned positions.
I was waiting for the captain, standing beside the ‘chair’, ready to hand over. In any other situation, we would be off to an illustrious start.
Until the dulcet tones of the Chief Engineer rang through the bridge, uttering those fateful words, “the warp coil has had a catastrophic failure”.
This was at odds with another statement he had made earlier when I was in Engineering, and given I was told the Chief Engineer was prone to hyperbole; his statement ‘they just don’t make warp coils like they used to’ hadn’t exactly filled me with confidence, but I had been expecting we would be ready to depart.
I had been looking at the screen, an overlay of the window that looked out over space, or at this moment, the space dock, where there was a representation of the planets that were ‘out there’.
I had been curious about M75, but the helmsman, a rather taciturn chap who seemed to resent the fact he was assigned to this ship, just shrugged and said, “it’s something, somewhere, but not of much interest,” then went back to his console.
If this was Star Trek, we’d be ejecting the warp coil by now, but in the space dock, that didn’t seem to me to be a viable option.
“How long before we can get this bucket of bolts moving,” I ask the Chief.
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
Yes, words ripped right out of the script of a Star Trek episode, I thought. A sad case of life imitating art.
A strange whistling sound emanated from the speakers, then the whoosh of the elevator just before the doors opened. OK, new ship, squeaky doors, another item to be put on the ‘look at’ list after the shakedown cruise.
The Captain had arrived.
“Why are dock workers still on the ship, Number One.”
For a moment there, I thought I was talking to John Luc Picard.
“Faulty warp coil. You know how it goes, save a billion by outsourcing to the cheapest supplier.”
The captain didn’t appreciate my sardonic humour, or my apparent disdain in outsourcing what we had once built ourselves.
He gave me a frown, a slight shake of his head, then said, “I’ll be in my quarters. Let me know when we’re about to leave.”
He didn’t wait for acknowledgement and disappeared through another squeaky door. More repairs.
The Chief’s voice then came over the speaker. “I can give you impulse speed, warp speed will take a little longer.”
“Doesn’t that refer to miracles over the impossible,” I ask.
“Perhaps. But in the meantime, I need a specific spanner and the replicators are down. So, now we have to fix them first, before moving on. Might take a while.”
I look around the crew, seeing their expectant faces drop with disappointment.
Outer space was going to have to wait a little longer.
A single event driven by fate, after Ben told his wife Charlotte he would be late home one night, he left early, and by chance discovers his wife having dinner in their favourite restaurant with another man.
A single event where it could be said Ben was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Who was this man? Why was she having dinner with him?
A simple truth to explain the single event was all Ben required. Instead, Charlotte told him a lie.
A single event that forces Ben to question everything he thought he knew about his wife, and the people who are around her.
After a near-death experience and forced retirement into a world he is unfamiliar with, Ben finds himself once again drawn back into that life of lies, violence, and intrigue.
From London to a small village in Tuscany, little by little Ben discovers who the woman he married is, and the real reason why fate had brought them together.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 