Writer's Blog

Holiday Blog

2008-03-17T06:54:00.000-07:00

Day one

Motto of the day: If you know you’ve going got an early start – get some sleep before you go!

There were three of us; all flying south for the winter – well, 14 days of it anyway. A whole fortnight in the sunny environs of Lanzarote, one of the seven Canary Islands situated off the west coast of Western Sahara! Lanzarote is the one of the islands closest to the African coast, being only 60 odd miles away. A good thing too; it is the Sahara Desert sand blowing across the sea that maintains and replenishes the island’s golden beaches, as opposed to the black volcanic sand of some of its neighbours.

But back to the story. A two hours drive from home to the airport in time for a two hour check-in, prior to a 7 am flight, meant leaving home at three in the morning. I made the mistake of staying up because I hate sleeping for short period and I had so much to do prior to leaving. The day before had been hectic; A trip to the hospital dentist with my dear old Dad and his carer in the morning, a rehearsal for a concert in April in the afternoon and another rehearsal with the gospel choir in the evening meant that I‘d had little time to sort myself out. ‘She who must be obeyed’ (Margaret for short and ‘M’ for even shorter) had made an early birthday present for the lady who runs the choir and as she had a bad cold and couldn't sing a note, it was down to me to take it. Actually I enjoyed choir. I never look forward to going to choir because of the distance involved (40 miles return – think of all that petrol!) but I always enjoy it when I get there. Despite a streaming head cold, M had done some packing for me but I still had to rush around and find my tooth brush!

But back to the story. After an uneventful drive to the airport, an easy check-in and a diet busting ‘Full English Breakfast’ (go large for £2 extra – and I did!) we boarded the plane. Did I tell you that the other person with us was M’s sister Elizabeth (E)? I didn’t? I could have sworn I did. Anyway you know now. I’m glad to have her along – someone else to push M’s wheelchair. E is on a fitness regime and needs the exercise! There are some who say I only take M on holiday with me so I don’t have to kiss her good bye. That’s dreadful! How did they find out?

But back to the story. Being with a wheelchair-user means you have to board the plane on an ‘ambulift’. This is a big box on the back of the truck with a hydraulic lifting mechanism that lifts less mobile passengers up to the door of the aircraft. I’m an expert on them – been in hundreds! Soon we were settled into out seats and I was fast asleep before the safety announcement! I hope no one noticed because only recently another airline had kicked one passenger off the plane for talking during the safety announcement and disturbing the other passengers. I hoped I hadn’t been snoring! If I had they ignored me.

But back to the story. The flight was thirty minutes early because the pilot desperately needed the toilet and we arrived at 10 am on a warm but breezy morning at Arriciffe Airport. The temperature was already 19 degrees and climbing - almost three times that of the temperature we’d left behind. Already I was wearing too many clothes. We picked up op our bags, signed for our hire car and set off for the resort. Now, despite having been to this resort several times I still a managed to miss the exit off the main highway (What? Again Stuart? I hear some of you say) I’ll have you know that the resort are considering changing the directions in their brochure to show the route I take just to save one of their favourite customers some embarrassment. So there!

But back to the story. The pilot’s urgent need for a number 2 and the aircraft’s subsequent early arrival meant that our apartment was not ready for us. I am considering suing the airline for damages because we had to go and wait in the local tavern where we felt obliged to partake of and early lunch. Parting with money so early in the holiday almost gave me a hear attack! However, we were eventually able to unload, unpack and unwind by 1 pm. M put the kettle on while I fell asleep on the sofa.

I woke up at 7 pm and went with E to buy some soup and bread for supper. The shops keep Spanish hours; 8 am to 2 pm, then 5 pm to 8 pm. The time between 2 pm and 5 pm is usually spent trying to increase the island’s population - unless you are on holiday, in which case you are frying on the beach or by the pool in an attempt to maintain the income of the local doctors and purveyors sun tan lotions. Me cynical? Never!

But back to the story. I was pleased to find that the resort now had a wi-fi area so I could log on with my laptop instead of having to use their overpriced, ‘pay-as-you-surf system’. So I was able to send and receive some emails and generally surf around, sitting outside on a cool, balmy evening with a glass of red wine. Well, the doctor said I had to drink two barrels a day. At least, I think that’s what he said. I later went to bed with a steam train.

Day Two

Motto of the day. If you think you can sing – you probably can’t! If you know you can sing –be careful where you do it!

The steam train was already up and dressed and brushing her teeth when a slice of sunshine slipped though the curtains to bring me blinking back from a wonderful dream. I had been surrounded by beautiful women - all encouraging me to go large for an extra 2 pounds! After failing to get back to sleep with my wallet, bleary eyed, I pulled on my shorts and wondered topless out onto the balcony.

Below me the sun was bouncing off the as yet untouched waters of the resort’s pool and peppering the early sunbathers with it rays. The new arrivals lay prostrate on their previously reserved sun beds like rows of white slugs, hoping to become brown slugs before they left. Many of them were women. All that cellulite - it’s enough to put a man off his breakfast! There should also be a law banning some women from going topless in public – they wouldn’t do it at home, would they?

I’d like to think that I was a bit more active than that. Some more shopping, a light lunch followed by a 30 minute swim in the pool. E and I then went for a power-walk along the beach. I was sporting my early birthday present from E’s absent boyfriend, Steve. He had splashed out on a pedometer for me from Tescos. Thanks Steve – it’s cheaper than buying me a drink! By the end of the day I had clocked well over 13,000 steps and had used up over 600 kcals. Good boy! Pity I undid it all with a huge plate of BBQ food that evening. Canarian potatoes and mojo sauce – my downfall! Never mind - it’s the thought that counts.

The evening entertainment was provided by a great singer of songs from the sixties and seventies. Sitting near the front, I couldn’t help joining in with the harmonies I’d sung when I was a budding rock star in a band years ago. The guy heard me and invited me to sing along with him. I had a great time but I’m not sure about the audience!

I went to bed with Neil Diamond (in my head!!)

Day 3

Motto of the day: Don’t go swimming with your pedometer attached to your shorts – it won’t count stokes and it doesn’t work when you come out!

Neil Diamond was still asleep when I awoke. At least I assumed he was; it still being the middle of the night in America, with a time difference of least 5 hours and depending on where he was sleeping. He could be somewhere else, of course, and in truth, I didn’t even care where he was. I don’t even know why I’m mentioning it.

The sun was beaming out of a cloudless blue sky again and I realised how boring it could be if this kind of weather continued; nothing to complain or talk about, except the fact that the weather is boring. I could imagine bus-queue conversations all over the island;

‘Boring weather we’re having,’
‘Yes.’

A real conversation killer.

I went to buy breakfast – there is a handy little store just around the corner – and we dined on boiled eggs and toasted soldiers (mmmm). Then M did some sewing in the shade of the apartment while E and I went to the open market in Tias about 10kms (6 miles) away. There we bought organic salads, smoked salmon, aubergine, and other vegetables. (Ratatouille for supper). The market was small and compact but it was nice to see the local people selling their home-grown produce (even if several of them were German)

Lunch was cheese and salad after which I took my pedometer for a swim while M went to buy some sun lotion to which she was not allergic. She’d tried some on the day before to check for a reaction and finding none she sought out the lady who was selling it at the resort. There was one reaction which she chose to ignore – my reaction to the price! I worked out that, ounce for ounce, Uranium is probably cheaper!

I didn’t mean to get my pedometer wet, it just happened. In my defence, I can only say that as I approached the pool, I was distracted momentarily by a particularly attractive lady who was sunning her pink bits (those bits that she didn’t normally expose to the sun that had already turned pink). Most women are attractive when you get to my age! It doesn’t take much to turn my head these days! Thanks for the mammaries!

So the fact that the pedometer was still clipped to my swimming shorts had completely slipped my mind. It was only when I climbed out half an hour later that I discovered it clinging lifelessly to my waistband. Poor thing! Only 48 hours earlier I had given it life by removing the plastic stripe covering its batteries and it had, until I drowned it, already recorded over 4,000 steps that day. Now it lay water-logged and un-responding in the palm of my hand. My sadness was equalled only the fact that M had brought her (our) credit card with her. All Attempts to resuscitate my electronic friend failed miserably and I reluctantly had to dispose of it in accordance with EU regulations 2005 as printed in the multi-national instruction booklet (i.e. not to be sent to land-fill). I threw it into the sea!

Unperturbed, I resolved to buy another pedometer and E and I power-walked about 2 kms to the shops. Lanzarote is a duty free zone outside the EU so many items are cheaper than in the UK. Consequently, I was able to buy a far more sophisticated model of pedometer for a reasonable price. Studying my new purchase over a glass of orange and strawberry fruit juice - 37 calories @ 3.70 Euros per glass (or 10 cents a calorie) - I discovered that it not only counted my steps, told me how many calories I had used up and how far I had walked, it also told me how many grams of fat I had burned in the process. Wow! And all for 13 Euros! Hold me back! If I ever see the pink sunbather again I will thank her profusely for changing my life with her boldness. Without her I would still be wondering how many grams of fat you lose by power-walking for 2 kilometres.

In the evening E and M made the ratatouille and we slumped in front of the TV. Oh yes, we really know how to enjoy ourselves on holiday.

I went to bed with a head ache, safe in the knowledge that I had used up 679 calories and burned 13.6 grams of fat since I bought my new pedometer. Room for a Mars Bar, I think (and a packet of crisps).

Day 4

Motto for the day: Sunday is a day of rest!

The headache was already up and brushing her teeth when I woke up. The weather was its usual boring self; promising temperatures in excess of yesterday’s 28 (82 if you live in the USA) and the three of us resolved to take it easy after breakfast. This involved watching Harry Potter on the in-house video channel, logging on to the internet and sending emails and sewing and/or playing with her Intendo game. I’ll leave you to guess who did what. Here’s a clue M: loves sewing and playing games.

E abandoned HP before the end (she’d seen it anyway) and as I had finished the emails, she and I went to relieve the boredom by doing some vital food shopping. I had remembered from previous trips, a large hypermarket not far from the airport – bigger selection, possibly cheaper prices – so we set off in the hire car to find it. (Remember today’s motto).

I could have sworn I knew where it was. After all, I had been there several times before. I started telling myself that it must have been sold and converted into a furniture shop, motor repair shop, office suite? Soon I had to admit that I had forgotten where it was. We drove for miles into Arriciffe and out again, into the airport to turn around and drive back the way we had come. Finally, I spotted it - exactly where it was last time we went. To be fair, you can only see it coming from the other direction. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. The worst part of it all? – It was closed.

With the confidence in my once-applauded leadership qualities mortally wounded, I sheepishly suggested that we visit another supermarket which was A; open and B; only a few hundred yards from where we were staying. There we loaded up with all we needed for the time being and having been away for two hours, made our way home. After unloading the provisions, I slipped away to recover from the shock of being wrong in front of a woman, while M and E prepared a light lunch.

After lunch we all went swimming (new pedometer safely in other trousers). I was a little later getting to the pool than the ladies, having stayed behind to warn the resort to let some water out of the pool. (For those who don’t know, M and E are both on the large side of ‘huge’ and I didn’t want any poolside sunbathers to get wet) Hey, don’t blame me! If Archimedes hadn’t discovered his Principle, I wouldn’t have known anything about it.
When I did get to the pool I was a little surprised to find out that M had been chatting up the lifeguard (‘He’s lovely,’ she told me, ‘his name is Marcelo.’) and he had helped into the pool using the hydraulic chair designed for that purpose. I can’t really see what she saw in Marcelo – he was only four inches taller than me and only about thirty-five years younger. I also reckoned his hair was dyed – you can’t get it that black naturally - and his smile was false. Those couldn’t possibly be his own teeth!

When M had finished swimming, Marcelo reversed the process with the lift, hosed her down with cold water and wrapped her in a towel, while I watched, amused, from the pool. ‘You can have her, mate,’ I shouted. ‘Let me know if you get anywhere.’ But his English wasn’t up to it. Neither was my Spanish.

After my swimming session, I hopped into the hot-tub to ease my muscles and sat opposite a lovely Belgium woman who was telling her friend, in English, about her recent trip to Las Vegas. There were two nice things about this lady and I could see both of them from where I was sitting. I stayed in the pool for ten minutes after she’d got out.

We’d bought a fresh chicken for dinner on the recommendation of two gay guys we met in the supermarket. (Well, E said they were gay – I just thought they were happy) and we put it on to cook while she and I went for our now-ritualistic power-walk along the deserted beach. The sun had gone, the crickets were mating noisily in the bougainvillea bushes and the smooth sea reflected the moonlight. It was such a romantic setting and a pity I was with E. I did hold her hand at one point but just to help her breathlessly up some steps. I let it go as soon as possible and luckily, no one saw me.

When we got back M had prepared some pasta and salad to go with the chicken and we sat down to a feast.

I logged on to download some TV programmes I was missing and discovered that I could receive but not send emails. I went to bed with a huge problem.

Day 5

Motto of the Day – Don’t forget your camera, and if you have one make sure that it has sufficient battery power for the job in hand!

My huge problem was still asleep when I awoke so I crept quietly out of the bedroom so as not to wake her and nipped upstairs to make some coffee and watch the early morning news on the TV. It was just after 6 am.

Upstairs? I hear you say. Well I need to explain that the villa/apartment is built upside down with the bedrooms on the bottom floor and the living area and kitchen upstairs where there is view over the balcony to the sea (depending on which villa you are allocated). Our villa has a view of the sea on the left and the pool on the right.

The TV news comes from the UK care of satellite and we get most of the UK terrestrial channels (if that’s not confusing – terrestrial TV by satellite, I mean). Anyway, the news was good – at least the UK weather news was. I am always pleased when the weather in the UK is bad when I’m away. It sort of justifies the decision to get away. There is nothing worse, I think, than getting back from holiday to find that the weather at home has been better than where you were. No chance this time – snow was forecast for the southwest UK and while I doubted that it would be no more than a light sprinkling, it was enough for me to smile smugly from my comfortable sofa as the sun, once again, popped up from behind the eastern horizon to adorn another cloudless sky with it rays.

Gulping the last dregs of coffee as I rose from the sofa, I flicked off the TV and slipped down the marble stairs and rolled back into bed. Watching TV takes so much out of one!

About three hours later, the three of us sat down for breakfast, with eggs boiled by M and more toasted soldiers, to discuss the plans we had already made for the day. Today we were going in a submarine!

At 10.30 we drove to the small but very exclusive port of Puerto Calero, a few miles further down the coast. If any of you own a yacht and have sailed the Atlantic or the around the Canaries, you will know Puerto Calero. It is the place where posh people park their boats – and I mean their big boats – when they pop into Lanzarote for a bag of sugar or a pint of milk. I’m not an expert, but my guess is that the boats in the marina there are probably worth more than Belgium.

But were we excited about seeing the yachts and the plush apartments and villas nestling in the port? Oh no! Were we excited that we might spot a celebrity or two fingering the fruit in a chandler’s or sipping on a singapore sling in one of the many bars lining the quay? Of course not! We were not interested in any of that. Hurriedly we parked the car, crammed M into her wheel chair and started pushing her towards the water with all six eyes searching anxiously for our ultimate goal – a yellow submarine!

This was to the highlight of our holiday so far – a trip to the very depths of the ocean! Only one thing stood in our way (well, in M’s way, really) could she manage to get down into the damn thing? We soon spotted the sub on the far side of the quay and as we approached the gang plank with the wheel chair and our intentions became obvious, there was a hurried and animated discussion in Spanish between several members of the port authorities. My Spanish isn’t good, I’ll admit, but I’m sure I heard the word ‘montagargas’ which translates to ‘hoist’ or ‘forklift’ in English.

But a hoist in any language was not needed. M surprised us all by disappearing down the hatch ladder like a rat down a drain – just as if she had been around sailors all her life. I must admit that it got me thinking about her more formative years – especially as one of the crew recognised her and called her ‘mistress’.

Inside the sub, the three of us sat with several other passengers, facing the large, round windows which lined both sides of the hull, with a small video monitor screen in front of us. As we left the harbour, the video screen showed us our progress until it was time to dive. Once under water, the sub continued its journey; passed a wrecked ship (placed there deliberately to give the passengers something to look at) and shoals of gaily-colour fish, down, down, down until the guide announced that we had reached the phenomenal depth of twenty five thousand millimetres (about 60 feet). Even at that depth, it was easy to see the fish. We saw lots of species the names of which were not remembered except the star fish, the barracuda and the parrot fish. I remembered thinking that, as we were in the waters around the Canary Islands, it was a pity where there wasn’t a canary fish down there as well as a parrot fish. I also wondered idly if the parrot fish could mimic the other fish. (I started imagining them swimming round saying, ‘who’s a pretty fish then? and, ‘that’s a pretty buoy!’)

We were told that there were some Atlantic Rays about but we didn’t see any. It’s a good job we didn’t - I would have been very annoyed - because I had forgotten my camera! It was bad enough not being able to take photos of all the other fish, but not to be able to take a picture of an Atlantic Ray would have been devastating - more devastating even than when Mr and Mrs Hitler decide it was too wet to go out for ‘kaffee and kuchen’ one Sunday afternoon and went to bed instead. Just think how much safer the world would have been if it hadn’t rained on the same day that Adolph’s dad had got a twinkle in his eye. (Sorry, I digress)

Why didn’t I have my camera? Well, it’s a long story to do with passports and M, and the fact that I’m a man and can only do one thing at a time. (I do it very well though!) So there I was, sixty feet under the sea, with the world and his wife clicking and whirring around me, and me without a single mega pixel. I felt like George Bush at a Democrat election rally. That is, until…

…E saved the day with her camera… (Hooray!) …except that the battery ran out just when I started using it… (boo!) …so I said ‘don’t worry. I’ll get a photo CD from the booking office… (hooray)… but they didn’t have any… (boo) …and I got the blame!

M had no problem getting out of the sub and we were soon having lunch in one of the quayside cafes.

That afternoon, we did the usual leisurely things; lazing around, swimming, etc, before E and me went for our beach power-walk. On our return, I grilled some steaks with pasta. Yummy - which is a name someone once used to describe me!

That evening the three of us entered a quiz in the resort bar and won third prize. (Hooray!)

It must have been the several drinks I had, because that night, I once again went to bed with a pain.

Day 6

Motto of the day: Don’t play crazy golf with women!

The pain was still with me when I awoke and her voice invaded my dreams to tell me that breakfast was ready - beautifully boiled eggs and immaculately cut toasted soldiers – a nice change. (I’ll be egg-bound at this rate!)

Today really was a day of rest. I spent some of the time writing his rubbish, M did some more sewing –its embroidery really – and E disappeared onto the balcony to listen to her i-pod (I wish she wouldn’t sing along – we were getting complaints from the next resort.)

Lunch was salad and stuff, but there was no swimming or power walk. Instead we played crazy golf (far more energetic) and E won. Beaten by a woman! I don’t want that getting around the village back home!

On the way back from the crazy golf, we popped into the supermarket and bought some more provisions. I also bought a pair of deck pants (ready for when I get my yacht) I think they make my legs look 20 years younger.

Back at the villa, I cooked a typical Canarian meal; white fish poached in chopped tomatoes, served with ‘papa de arrugur con sal de marine y adobo canario’ al la Stuart - my world renowned Canarian potatoes on a bed of sea salt and herbs of the region. M and E are so lucky to have me with them!

One of my favourite TV programmes (Hotel Babylon) was on so I stayed in while M and E went to a Celtic Dance evening. I joined them later. It was very exciting – three lovely girls thumping out ‘River Dance’ rhythms with their feet. (They were also part-time wine pressers and nut crackers, I discovered)

I went to bed feeling queasy – was it the fish?

I deceided that the rest of my holiday should be spent doing more constructive things, so here endeth the holdiay blog.

Everything that glitters....

2008-03-17T05:51:00.000-07:00

Well, it didn't happen. I mean, neither contract has been signed. The Society of Authors were very helpful in pointing out clauses which were either not necessary or not in my interests and when I took these back to publishers concerned, one of them replied to the effect that they were not prepared to change the contracts and withdrew the original offer. The other publisher has yet to reply and I hold out little hope that they will after several requests.

Ah, well. It was obviously not to be. Onwards and upwards. The good news is that one of my stories 'Sapphire Blue' has reached the short list of the UK Authors Writers' Competition. I'm keeping everything I have two of crossed (painful).

Since my last posting I have been on holiday. I thought you might enjoy my humorous (hopefully) look at what we got up to for some of the time. I stopped writing the blog after a week because it was taking up too much of my time and I wanted to write some serious stuff. I have no idea if anyone reads this stuff. If you do, let me know. If you don't read it, let me know.

Holiday blog follows...

I Opened The Door And Influenza

2008-01-15T07:59:00.000-08:00

So apart from doing some house painting, more writing, some editing, and looking carefully at those two contacts, I haven't done much; mainly because I spent most of last week in bed with flu. A typo in my original draft made it look like I had spent a week in bed with Flo (whoever she is!) but unfortunately not. No, I was out for the count most of the time with a head ache and the usual grotty feelings that we men get as soon as we get a sniffle. It was man flu!! Honest!

I was heartened by several emails with comments about the site; some from people I know, some from complete strangers. Like Mike from South Africa who said he stumbled on the site and liked the background picture of the rocks at Hartland Quay which he remembered from his youth. Others of you who have commented include: Julie and Deneane from the USA, my very good writer friend, Liz, who writes under the name of Elizabeth Jasper and Kevin in Canada. Keep your comments coming - it's nice to know that someone else is reading this rubbish! As a result of one complaint, I have made the 'Enter Site' button bigger. How's that for service!!

So... I hear you say... if lots of people are looking at yr website, (well about 20 so far) why is the site count still in single figures? Good question! The answer is simple: My webmaster and good friend Jon Downes, used someone else's site counter in the beginning and now that I have one of my own, it has started at zero again!

On the writing front, having sent one amended contract for 'Deniable Operation' back to the publisher, I am still working through the other one. I have had very good advice and comments from Elizabeth Haylett at the Society of Authors, so I await the publisher's comments.

Auditions for 'The Witness for the Prosecution' went well and I hope to cast it very soon. I still have a couple of people to audition before I make the announcement but I have actually allocated some of the smaller parts already.

I also started the ball rolling on our local village concert.

If I could just get rid of the last vestiges of the flu virus which has laid me low... I'll be fine!

More soon !

New Year, New Website, New Blog, New Beginnings

2008-01-06T13:18:00.000-08:00

Publishing Contacts? They’re just like buses! You wait three years for one and then two come in the same week?

When I’d completed Deniable Operation about 3 years ago, I started sending it to agents and publishers, and almost immediately started receiving rejection letters. The most popular comments used to ease the pain of rejection were, ‘This is not suitable for our lists’. Followed closely by, ‘Sorry, not for us’ and, ‘Our lists are currently full.’ I probably have enough rejections letters to paper my office walls!

So you can imagine my surprise when, just before Christmas, I received not one, but two, contract offers for the same manuscript. I won’t name the publishers just yet, but one appears to have a prestigious address in Canary Warf in London and the other has an address in Gloucestershire. If they are reading this… they know who they are!!

Which one will I accept? The truth is, I don’t know. Both contacts have some attractive clauses, and one even offers and small (very small) advance. However, both contracts have some clauses didnt seem right so The Society of Authors currently has both contacts and I hope their comments will help me make up my mind. I then have to arrange appointments with both publishers and ask some pertinent questions. Once I have decided which contract to sign, you will be the second to know. I’ll also reveal the names of the publishers.

I’ve been trying to find the impetus to continue writing over the holiday. Lots of distractions. Hope to settle down to a routine soon. I feel I might have taken on too many outside activities for the coming months. On the 12th Jan I will run a drama course for kids in the village called ‘Dramarama’. With others, I will spend two hours every Saturday morning for six weeks with up to 20 children between eight and fifteen, working towards a village concert on 23 and 24th February. I am also directing the concert and performing in it, as well as reading some of my humorous poetry. Also next week, I’m holding auditions for Agatha Christie’s Witness for the Prosecution. This play is a courtroom drama set in the fifties which I have also agreed to direct. The production will be at the Plough Theatre in Torrington in May. I have also agreed to direct and perform in another charity concert of sketches and songs for production in April. When I’m not doing any of those, I will be concentrating on finishing The Pistachio Package, the sequel to Deniable Operation in the hope that whichever publisher I choose wants that one too. Busy, busy, busy!

More next time.