Friday

Learned a new word today and it's a corker. I shall have to use it in my next book. Oh course, as I have an immature streak, I had great fun with it. The word is WENIS. When I shake my hand, my wenis wobbles. Fantastic! Go on, google it.

My sister Angela had a great idea this week, what with my wobbly eyes and all, and sent me some talking books. I have struggled writing and I have almost given up on TV, so hopefully this will give me a real diversion from the introspection I have been forced to enjoy.

Saw Doc to day, excellent news, no change in the meds, so back into the office on Monday. He has referred me to the Opthalmist at the Gloucester Royal Hospital (GRH), basically he is a little concerned at how my eyes are still fluctuating a load. For good measure he also referred me to the diabetic specialist nurse at GRH too. I am unhappy at having loaded on a stone in weight even though I have moved over to a slightly more healthy diet than the already heallthy diet that I was on.

I have holes in my skin in each hand. Boy cat decided NOT to come in and was off being territorial. No way would we be able to sleep with any of the cats out, so it was upto me to go and get him. He did not want to be got, hence the holes in my hands. Great.

Cold came on suddenly last night, but then I have been feeling the cold all week, so to actually get one should not be a surprise.

Enjoy your dreams, I love mine.

Thursday

Yvonne and Hannah were out yesterday evening to see PINK at the NEC near Birmingham. By all accounts a fabulous show from an exceedingly talented young woman. That gave me the opportunity to catch up with some recorded TV programmes. Not very successfully though. Despite having (now) 4 different value contact lenses, I was unable to get the right value to be able to sit and see the TV comfortably. The trouble is that the eye lens changes retroactively to the (fluctuating due to diabetes) blood sugars, but I don't know what the lag between high or low sugar levels and the eyesight changes. I also don't know if low sugar cause near or far sightedness or vice versa. I just know that I could not readily watch TV and that at the time my bloods were okay.
And so little more work done on the next novel, and no work at all done on updating the website for the new novel due out tomorrow. I have given some consideration for a new cover for my first novel Dubai Dream, but come to no conclusions yet, apart from that it could do with one.

Tuesday

My first two books have taken in Dubai, Margarita Venezuela and Gibraltar. All very different but still places many people would visit. For variety, I would like to weave Cuba into a novel. It is strange to me that the US condemns Cuba as part of the axis of evil. Former US Secretary of State John Bolton, speaking to the Heritage Foundation in 2002, a right-wing political think-tank, singled out Cuba for particular criticism, saying that the country's threat to the US was consistently "underplayed".
"(Cuba) has at least a limited offensive biological warfare research and development effort (and has) provided dual-use technology to other rogue states," he said.
Codswallop said Andy Reeley speaking to any one who cared to listen via his Blog in 2006.
Having been to Cuba and engaged with the ordinary people, I come away with a sense of irritation with the US government. This is in no way an echo of what the Cubans themselves think, no, they all seem to be amused that the Americans don't want to visit their Island Paradise, no this is more my personal reaction to what I see at the populace level. In that my books have good old fashioned goodies and baddies, I shall find it challenging to incorporate Cuba and its people in a negative or bad way; and to show them as good would probably be dismissed by the supposedly knowledgeable (of these matters) as mere unenlightened rhetoric. From my brief investigation into what went on, all I see is a small bunch (Around ten, that is all) of American Gangsters pillaging the Caribbean Island for their own purposes, and then having amassed huge fortunes, having the financial clout to sway (or is that buy?) American political decisions. That was in the fifties when a bunch of locals ( = terrorists ) stood up for themselves and the people and revolted. A revolution is not a terrorist attack. They are completely different. Cuba has meddled in the odd foreign affair here and there, but from what I can see, that is in response to a (from the Cuban perspective) view of opposing an unjust oppressor, ie, to the US ‘Rogue States’.
I know life is actually quite hard on the Island, but I am sure it would have been an awful lot better if the US Govt had just let them get on with it. Anyway, end of rant. ( I could blog about it for thousands of words, but I will stop. Now. Honest)

So how to bring in all the good aspects of Cuba without the usual anti rhetoric. I don’t want to do someone having a holiday or getting married there, too predictable. I shall have to get my thinking hat on. It will need to be sympathetic with the flow of my story arc, and it will be a little difficult to bring in Edward or Geraldine due to the nature of the Department (Organisation is a better word) that they work for.

When I was last in Cuba, we stayed away from the main touristy bit, and stayed in the Guardalavaca area of Holguin, and yes we got out of the resort and went into local villages and met people and spent time with them. It just reinforced our love for the people and the island. We were fortunate, having elected to stay at the Paradis Rio Del Oro, and being able to negotiate an upgrade to the Garden Villas (see the picture.) We were exceptionally well looked after by the whole staff, but especially Julio (who butled for us) and his wife Yudith who did restaurant bookings and other front of house stuff. It really is a superb hotel, and is probably amongst the best on the island. Well worth a visit.

Monday

Just had the new book GIBRALTAR ROCK proof back from the publishers - it looks stunning.

Meanwhile, a short story that you might enjoy.

A Storm in the Night, by Andy Reeley

Henry looked across at Catherine as she slept bathed in the soft light from moonbeams gently shining in from the picture window. Catherine lay on her back, her lace-enclosed bosom gently rising and falling as she took breath. There was a barely audible purr escaping her as she slumbered. Henry could see Catherine’s eyelids flicker as she dreamt and Henry wondered what lands her mind was in, what delights she thought of, and what memories her sleep plundered to make her dreams and night time wishes and hopes.

Silently the clouds gathered across the sky, thin wisps beginning a quiet obscuring of the gibbous, almost full moon. The white porcelain moonlight that poured into the room showing Catherine in all her glory and beauty began to fade and thin. Henry watched Catherine’s outline melt into the darkness, and all too soon he could see only inky shapeless blackness with only a slight purring to denote her presence. Henry smiled as he thought that even her snoring was a matter of beauty. Where many a woman would snort or burble, Catherine lay serene, a mere barely discernible feline rumble the only escapee from her sleep. Catherine slept the sleep of the just and the beautiful and Henry basked in her beauty and love, proud that she had chosen him as her life partner and lover.

Henry, his eyes having now adjusted to the gloom, softly left the bed and padded to the window, drawing the heavy patterned drapes, shutting out the silent war as cumulus and nimbus clouds battled for control of the night sky – only the occasional star daring to show through the almost total vaporous domination. Henry slowly walked back in the darkness and released the drapes at each side of the bed, drawing first the closures on Catherine’s side, then the end and finally shutting out the world behind him as he returned to his side of the Tester. Now in total darkness, Henry felt a warm and comforting feeling, the world was shut out of their room, the room was shut out of their bed, and all they need concern themselves with was each other. Henry slid his hand down the bed, seeking Catherine. He found her fingers almost immediately, and as he touched her, Catherine’s hand gently took his and she sleepily whispered her love for him, her voice soft and velvet like, her words sinking into his memory as the night took its final devastating prize.

The early morning light was too dim to register; Henry could only see small grey lines that were the gaps in the bed drapes. Catherine was now silent as she lay beside him, no purring escaped to dance and weave around his ears, no breathe could he hear. Her hand was cool and unresponsive to his touch and Henry knew that her battle was over, that her suffering and torment of pain were now gone and that his Catherine had been released. A huge shudder racked his body as he took in a gulp, a single large tear drop formed before escaping and gathering momentum as it ran down his cheek, dropping and showing the way to the others that would surely soon follow. He sat up, not really knowing what he was to do next. He had long prepared for this day, made plans and arrangements so that Catherine would not worry that her passing would cause a panic. And now the day was here the plans and preparations had disappeared – stolen from his mind in the night, just as surely missing as his lovers’ life force was now.

He pulled back the drape at the side of the bed leaving behind the vacant shell of humanity that was once such an important part of his life, swung out his legs and looked up. Catherine stood smiling at him, wearing her beautiful lace nightdress that he had bought her as the illness took hold. She had wanted to look her best for when the doctors called to attend to her. Catherine looked cherishingly at him, her image the only brightness in the room, and as the warmth radiated from her a peace took hold of him and his tears of sadness dried.

“It will be alright my Love,” she said, her voice soft and comforting to his ear, “our suffering has finished. My Darling Henry, I cannot express enough my love for you, my gratitude that you lay there night after night, just holding me, praying for me, wishing that the pain would go. Oh my Love, I would have perished many months ago if not for your strength and caring and love. Without you, there would have been nothing to hold back the darkness, no lovers’ tears to wash away the pain and upset. My Darling, I now know that The Good Lords’ angels helped with your ministrations and with their wings they helped lighten the burden that was me and I too thank them and the Lord. Now my pain is gone and I no longer dilute your strength. You no longer have to help me bear my suffering and my pain. I will have your love and comfort with me for all time, and know this my darling, I will wait for you for all eternity my love, cherishing and nurturing your love, and one day my Darling, one day we will once more walk hand in hand in the garden of our dreams. Once more I will be able to feel the passion of your warm embrace, once more we will kiss under the bough of a mossy lime tree, laughing as squirrels gather nuts for a winter’s store.”

Tears slowly started to trickle once more from his eyes, becoming a small river running down each cheek, dipping in their path to meet his mouth, leaving a slight salty tang as they cracked the dryness they found there. He put his hand out to touch her, to hold her one last time, but could not reach her; she seemed to be so far away, yet looked so close.

“Goodbye my Love, I will always, always have your love. Without you my life would have been barren and empty.” His words seemed hollow and wrong. He could not seem to say what he wanted, what he felt. His mouth just opened and closed, no more words could he form.

“Goodbye my Love” and as she uttered her farewell she dimmed and merged with the gloom in the corner of the room. The warmth that he had felt in her presence began to fade, the coolness of the early morning beginning to make its presence felt. All that lingered was her memory. He felt a slight soreness, almost an irritation in his hand. He opened his fingers to rub at or scratch, to take away the distraction, and found only a surprise. In his hand was a small gold cross. He had no idea how it got there. Her voice quietly came into his head:

“My Darling, take this gift as a token of my love and always have this with you and keep it between you and those who would do you harm, for it has the power of my love for you within it”.

He looked down at the small gold gift and sank to his knees, sobs racking his body, his grief too much to bear, inconsolable in his loss, he cried and cried, tears falling in a salty rain, his hand gripping the small golden symbol through the pile of the carpet as he lay sobbing.

Saturday

Saturday, and off to the opticians for my ever changing eyesight test. I now have three different prescription lens' (-1.25, 0.0 and +.5) Most days I can now actually see something, but I do struggle with reading anything most days. Diabetes is rather like a farmers milking machine. It sucks.
Well now, hasn't the news been interesting this week, former spy poisoned by radioactive pellet. Oh I just have to include that in my current novel, truth is stranger than fiction sometimes.

The main story that I have for my Geraldine and Edward arc #3 continues apace. I am moving more into the ongoing relationships that surround them and establishing their central roles. Geraldine will now be full time in the department and Edward will be on walkabout much more. I think in this novel I will introduce more of the background of the department and perhaps explain why the department is housed in GCHQ but is not government and definately not GCHQ, MI5 etc.

But mustn't give too much away here. Book #1 was a very sensual love story, book #2 evolved into a series of personal relationships that came under threat, resolved only after tradgedy but due to Edwards job.

I found the story easier to write in book #2 and feel that is the natural way forward. We shall see.

Wednesday

These new meds are working, the BP has dropped into the target zone, but the price is heavy to say the least. Stomach cramps and a very real need to be near the facilities. Irritating that I don't seem to be losing weight as a result, at least give that if I am going to suffer the trottings!

Writing is at a pause, I don't feel like writing whilst I am like this. I have plenty of ideas, just not sure when I will start weaving again. I've written chapter one already, it's just the other twenty or so before the end!

Despite it all, I have managed to tidy the garage enough and put the car away each night - so now the burglars might think I'm out, when in fact, I'm in. Interesting times, interesting times.

Monday

I love driving this car,
From My Car Pictures


it is so difficult to accept that it is being powered by diesel. It has a very healthy 0 to 60 of around 8 seconds and returns 30 plus to the gallon. It looks stunning too, especially as I've now had privacy screen added to the glass. I wonder if I could fit some Knight Rider lights to the front? Probably could but definitely shouldn't!

Complete change of meds from Doctor (I consider myself lucky, my GP is just so good, I happily trust my life in his hands), so now my body has to get used to the new meds. Back to the horrible constant headaches, sicky feeling and metallic taste. BP has dropped into the 130's from the 150's, so that is a good thing. Hopefully back into the office soon.Still getting utterly cheesed off with the changing eyesight. I now have three sets of contact lenses all with differing strengths (-.5, 0 and +1.25) On some days I have to use all three in turn as my eye sight changes. Well done D&A for helping me through this.I think that virtually the last of the leaves came down last night, so if I manage to convert enough sugars to energy, I'll be leaf clearing this morning. Oh what fun.