My European Adventure* Day 1

Aug12
by berry on August 12, 2014 at 1:56 am
Posted In: Uncategorized

*Um, I’m not swashbuckling or anything, so don’t get your hopes up!

**I’d also like to note that this is very rambly. TL;DR version: I went to Salisbury, saw the cathedral and museum and Old Sarum.

***I’d also like to note that while I usually edit these things before posting, there simply isn’t time. I’ve got to run down and eat, then go to Boots (to get sunscreen, since I’m biking all day) and get back in time to check out and meet the tour organizers for my bike tour. Phew!  (Also, I woke up at 6:50. Go me!)

So this is it, here I am. I managed to make it to England, and I’m sitting in my hotel room using the hotel room wifi to accidentally wake up Jasna and them while trying to call Bojana, but that’s all good. I’m exhausted, but I jumped straight in and went for it, so it’s all good.

The flight was at 10:40 pm, so, as always, I arrived 3 hours ahead of time, ready for the security circus that usually awaits. Of course there wasn’t one, and I breezed through and found myself with nothing to do for several hours. The thing you should do, Chris, I hear you saying to yourself, is write! You have a perfect opportunity! The departure lounge is empty! You’ve got a seat next to a plug! That you picked specifically for plugging in the laptop! (This is foreshadowing, if you’re wondering what the heck I’m doing. ) But no. I read The War of the Worlds, in anticipation of spending 30 minutes in Woking looking at the tripod sculpture in front of the HG Wells conference centre. People began to filter in, and eventually we had a full flight. Boarding was a breeze, everyone paid attention, didn’t have special “oh gosh, ground crew, treat me like a king” tendencies, or, better, “I don’t know where the flight is because I’m on my fifth martini” tendencies, and we were loaded and on the runway right on time. The person sitting next to me even went out of her way to be petite. Luxury.

I was plenty exhausted, what with all the outdoor work I had done during the day; I felt a little heat-stroked for sure. As soon as the seat-belt sign was off, I popped my headphones in and listened to the Canterbury Tales audiobook (sorry Chaucer). I was out in a flash, only to be awoken an hour later by the flight attendant rubbing my arm and asking if I wanted something to eat. Now don’t get me wrong, I like a good arm rub, and I like a good eat, but I never ever get to fucking sleep on planes, and I was sound asleep. Son of a!. Anyway. I told her no. Thanks. I was surprised she was offering, since the flight left at 10:40 pm and was arriving at 10:30am. Wouldn’t it make more sense to have breakfast? I must have said something along those lines, because she told me there would only be banana bread for breakfast, so if I wanted to eat up, now would be the time. I did not want to eat up. At this point it dawned on me that I hadn’t written! I pulled out my phone and started furiously tapping away, trying to add something coherent to my body of work. Ha! I haven’t looked at it yet, but it’s probably laughable. I have a feeling the flight attendant was worried I was writing some screed against her, since I had an angry ( at myself) look on myself the whole time I was tapping away. She left a banana bread for me without waking me up in the morning, and when I did wake up, she gave me not only a coffee, but an orange juice as well. I looked around, making sure I was still on an Air Canada flight. (I joke. People complain about Air Canada a lot, but I have to think that’s because they haven’t flown on any other airlines.)

Deplaning was a snap, people were polite and non-jostly, and because we gated at the new terminal 2, we actually only had to taxi for a couple of minutes to the gate, rather than the marathon of hope the plane took the last time I flew into Heathrow. Though anything’s better than Frankfurt. I’m convinced that the landing strip Air Canada uses in Frankfurt is actually in Munich or something. I digress. It was a hella walk to customs, but again, no one was there, and I was through in less than 5 minutes. Another hike (including 2 lifts) and I was at the central bus station. On my way I stopped at a Boots and grabbed a Lancashire cheese and beetroot chutney sandwich. Seriously. £10.50 later and I was on the bus to Woking, munching on my surprisingly delicious sammie. Once the thrill of that was done, the thrill of the M25 London Orbital Motorway kicked in, and I dozed off a bit. Not so much that I missed my stop, though. In fact, the route once the coach left the LOM became quite interesting, with horses and weird houses and all that good stuff of semi-rural, London-outlying England. I saw the fighting machine from the bus, and decided, once I realized that the tripod was on the other side of the train station from me (requiring lugging my luggage down and then up several flights of stairs, twice), that what I had seen of it was good enough. This turned out to be a very good decision. I caught the next train to Salisbury, 10 minutes after I had arrived and 40 minutes before the one I was going to take. I had a coffee and some prawn cocktail crisps from the trolley, and chatted with an american couple that sat opposite. I made a blunder during this conversation. I conflated Salisbury Hill (aka Old Sarum) with Solsbury Hill (aka Peter Gabriel). Oop. I hope they never look it up! ;). Solsbury hill is a place, and it is, like Old Sarum, on the Avon, and it’s an Iron Age hill fort. And it’s almost spelled the same gosh darn it!

My Hotel

Anyway. I’m staying at a theological college directly opposite the Cathedral, which is fun because they lock the Cathedral Close at 10, so if I wasn’t so godawful tired, I’d have to get a key to get back into the neighbourhood. Heh. I dropped off my stuff, and got into some lighter clothes, as I had been roasting outside. I stepped out, and was confronted with massive gusts of chilling wind. And I in my shorts and t-shirt. Nonetheless, I visited the Cathedral like this, and got a private guided tour and all, by a disapproving guide. She didn’t disapprove of me, to my face at least, but she didn’t like what anyone else was doing in the church. She was, basically, my mother. She handed me off when we got to the Chapter House, so I could talk with someone who was more familiar with the Magna Carta, which they have on display there. Totes Awesome!

After that, the Salisbury Museum with their new Wessex Archaeology exhibit. Note the title. Yup, Phil Harding himself, and his hat opened the exhibit. Alas, that was three weeks ago, so I didn’t get to meet him, but there was another gent from the west country there, so he was a reasonable replacement.

After I had finished that, I checked the time and discovered that I had just enough to hike up to Old Sarum and check it out (I was going to go anyway, but not go in, but it closes at 6 in the summer, so I had time to go into the castle itself, wheee!). Nota Bene: I whistled, incorrectly, Solsbury Hill the _ENTIRE_ time I walked. It was a worthwhile, though brief encounter with an iron age hill fort turned into motte and bailey, and I learned a valuable lesson. Unless you want to scramble, there’s no way out of an iron age hill fort turned into a motte and bailey except for the way you came in. I had gone to it via the road, but I wanted to go back walking along the Avon, and while it took a while to get to it, get to it I did, and enjoy the walk, I did.

Salisbury from Old Sarum

Once I returned to Salisbury, I found myself famished and thirsty, so I went to “The King’s Head Inn”, aka a Wetherfield pub, and had a Taylor & Young SOS and a plate of sausages, peas, onions, and potatoes. I stumbled back to the college, and found my room and passed out on the bed for 45 minutes, bringing my total sleep for the day to 3 hours and 45 minutes. I’m feeling a bit too chipper right now, though. This is problematic because it’s 11:35pm, and I have to get up early enough to: Eat, shower, clean up, repack, check out, leave my bags in the checked bags room, and meet my cycling people all for 9:30am. And food is 8-9 am, so at least there’s that little bit of space. I figure at long as I’m up by 7:30, I’ll be able to accomplish everything. It’s not as if I’m going to spend an hour eating an english breakfast, is it? I hope not. That would be some english breakfast, though I do want to be a little bit stuffed to the gills to help with the pedalling thing…

 

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My LonCon/Shamrokon Schedule (such as it is…)

Aug04
by berry on August 4, 2014 at 11:32 pm
Posted In: Uncategorized

I’m so caught up in my plans for my trip that I’m not really spending any time thinking about the story I’m trying to write. That’s all right, though, it’s going to work itself out. I’m still thinking about it, and that’s the important thing. I’ll come up with something gorgeous in the very near future, I can feel it. Instead, I’m doing hard labour (in the form of rebuilding the patio), and watching Orphan Black. My plan, as it is, is to finish off the second series before I leave, that way I can either get it out of my mind for a bit, or at least have an opening where I can talk about it with other con-goers. Whee! Speaking of cons, here’s my new-and-improved, revised schedule for my trip. It’s insane, but I think I can manage:

11th: I land at 10 am in London, Which means I can theoretically be at the bus terminal by 11:30 (unless there’s some stupid strike or another on with the passport people, grump grump. I’d hate to be stuck there for 3 hours as it’s happened in recent memory). That’d get me to Woking by 12ish, time for a gawk at the war machine and the cylinder from War of the Worlds, and then a train to Salisbury. This should get me to Salisbury for 2:30. Not a lot of time to check in and then hit both the Cathedral and the museum, I might have to pick one. Once everything is closed, I’m going to stop for some supper, and then take a walk (or a bus, depending on how tired I am) to Salisbury Hill, aka old Sarum, and see if I can see the city lights. Hur hur hur. Then back to the hotel and sleep.

12th: Do a bike tour(!!!! “Awesome!” he says, in his best imitation of Rainbow Dash) of Salisbury and Stonehenge and the surrounding countryside and go to London when I’m done. It’s an hour and a half from Salisbury to London, and then another 25 minutes to the hotel, not bad really. And London is the end of the line, so if I’m tired, I’ll get punted off the train, so long as no one steals my bag. I assume I’ll want to sleep when I get to the hotel.

13th: Up and eat and shower and brush my teeth and onto the DLR and the tube and the train all the way to Richmond to start my big crazy walk (Yes, I’ve taken it on myself to walk the entire length of the London section of the Thames while I’m in town this year. It’s a stupid goal, but it’s a goal nonetheless). This should actually be aided by me suddenly not having a problem with riding the Boris bikes. I’m not convinced that I will, but it’d definitely make life easier. Not on this particular leg though, as they only have bikes at my terminus. I anticipate getting out the door for 8:30am, but we’ll see what jet lag has to say about that.  Annnnnnnnnnyway…. So, walk walk walk, all the way to Putney Bridge (I’m assuming I’ll be able to grab food type substances on the way from Richmond to Putney, please Cthulhu say it’s so), then hop on the tube and go to the Great British Beer Festival, being held at the Olympia Exhibition grounds. Been there! It’s where the Doctor Who Experience was put on back in 2011. From there to the West End! I’ll be hungry again, I’m sure, so Wagamama is on the menu (for old times’ sake), then off to Forbidden Planet, where I will try not to squee all over the place. This last will be hard, as I’ll have been sampling real ales all afternoon. From there it’s a short walk to the Duke of York, where I have tickets (OK OK Ticket, geez) for the Jeeves & Wooster based show, Perfect Nonsense. It should be a delight! Crawl back to hotel and sleep the sleep of the dead.

14th-18th: Not that long, cowboy! You’ve got the Thames to walk!  Then con-con-con-con-cooooooon. NB: The 14th through 18th are all the same thing. If you’re wonder where I am in the morning, I’m somewhere near a specific body of water. If it’s the afternoon or later, I’m in the Excel Centre, or out eating with awesome people (hey, awesome people, we need to make dinner plans, eh?)

19th: I should be done the death march^h^h^h^h^h^h^h^h^h^h^hlovely riverside stroll by now, so I’ll instead spend the morning in the British Library checking out the comics exhibit they have going on before hopping on a train to Watford Junction to enjoy the Harry Potter Experience. It’s all about experiences with these British, isn’t it? (A kewpie doll for catching the reference). And, I don’t know, maybe I’ll drink beer? Maybe I’ll go see the adaptation of Let the Right One In? Haven’t decided. Maybe I’ll just go for a walk, since it’ll be lacking.

20th: Futz around, check out of my hotel, and take the train to Chester. Why Chester? Why not? It figures heavily in a Roman story I wrote several years back, and I feel I owe it to the town to actually see what it’s like. Plus I want to promenade on the Roman walls, and check out the Cathedral, as that’s what I tend to do, it seems.

21st: More Chester fun, at least in the morning. I don’t actually have anything planned other than Something CoolTM. Afternoon is another train, this time to Holyhead, in time to catch the ferry to Dublin, and Shamrokon! Rokon! I foresee an actual Ireland Guinness in my hand within the first 37 seconds of checking into my hotel.

22nd-24th: Shamrokoning! And walking around Dublin. I wouldn’t mind going to Sandycove, but we’ll see. I’d like to point out here that the schedulers at Shamrokon know their audience quite well. There’s a conspicuous gap in the programming around the time the Series Eight première of Doctor Who is on. Hmmm, coinkidink? I might also try to see a Gaelic Football match while I’m in Dublin, as there’s a big game going on at Croke Park (or, should I say, Páirc an Chrócaigh) on Sunday afternoon.

25th: Drink a bit more of the good stuff, then it’s Dublin-London-Zagreb, and end the odyssey. The only real shame is that Medvesčak are playing on the 27th, but I’ll already be on my way back to Canada. Pity.

OK, enough about me…

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Writing all year

Jun15
by berry on June 15, 2014 at 10:39 pm
Posted In: deep thoughts

I know that I’ve banged on about this a lot lately, but I have only because its one of the things at the forefront of my mind, and its less annoying than the other thing that’s been there lately (the other thing being the “Everything is Awesome” song from The Lego Movie. Kill me soon.). Next week, if I don’t get hit by a bus (please, don’t direct any buses towards me!), I’ll cross the year mark of writing every day. Some days it’s been dead simple (I sat down with an idea for a short in my head, and proceeded to bang out all 3000 words in one shoulder-decimating sitting), and some days it’s so hard I wonder what the hell I’m trying to accomplish with all this mindless banging at the piece of plastic in front of me.

Another milestone that I will hit with the completion of this blog post (ahem, assuming I hit 500 words. Sorry, all you TL;DR types out there (Dan, I’m looking specifically at you.)) is 250k words. In a year. All typed by me (Dictation software doesn’t like my voice, with hilarious consequences at times. Here’s the previous sentence, spoken: “Another smile so that I will hit the completion of this blog post (him, singing at 500 words. Utility Arkansas (third item you.)) his 250k words.” I rest my case). I’m absolutely staggered. Admittedly, not all of the words were productive fiction, but a good many of them were. In the last year, I have written a novel and 21 short stories. One of the shorts is doing the rounds, and another is about to start in the next week. All told, my “productive” fiction totally almost 110k words. (PS: again for the TL;DR crowd. I’ll stick in some photos and videos and stuff. Happy? (Dan?) )

What I call productive is something that I have actually completed. For instance, I went down a long, winding road that turned into a blind alley the first time I started the novel I finished this year, and decided to chuck it (metaphorically, it’s still on my HD) and start again. Hard, since it meant getting rid of 3 months of work and almost 40k words, but the story that emerged from restarting is stronger than the original one could ever have been, even with extensive scaffolding to hold it up. I’ve also been blogging a bit, or writing essays (mostly to come to grips with what I see going on in the world. These are for my consumption for the most part).

A secondary, unintended consequence of writing every day is that it’s gotten one of my kids interested in the mechanics of story-telling, and he’s gone out and written his own book. I know! How cool is that? He’s in the middle of illustrating it, but he has yet to let me look at his drawings (I understand this completely). For the curious, he dictated it to me, as while he can spell and whatnot, he isn’t the fastest and, in his words, he wanted it to be done before school was over.

So there. 250k words, closing in on a year writing. Feeling good! And I lied about the photos and videos. Sorry Dan!

 

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Story a Day May – Postscript

Jun01
by berry on June 1, 2014 at 9:27 pm
Posted In: Uncategorized

I mentioned on my twitter feed (@bojnberry. If you aren’t following me there, well, what the heck are you waiting for?!) that I was taking in part in Story a Day May last month. The goal of SaDM is obvious: write and complete a short story every single freaking day of the month. It was hard. Counting-micro-potholes-on-a-cycling-path hard. (um, that’s a joke for Boj, the rest of you may ignore that last sentence (at your peril!)). Hard enough that I didn’t manage it ever night, but I persevered, wrote, collapsed in front of the keyboard a few nights, and wrote some more. I learned about this through Michael Haynes, so a massive hat-tip to him.

I wrote every day (because that’s what I’m doing right now if you didn’t know, 345 days and counting, suckas!), and managed to finish 18 stories, 3 times as many as I wrote in the 8 months leading up to the challenge. Pumped, I am. Of course I also have fragments of 13 other stories which I didn’t manage to finish thanks to time constraints, or to too much intake of bourbon or bbq or whatnot that day, or I was “just not feeling it”. Needless to say, that last excuse is by far the lamest.

This was a great experience for me. It really helped me to focus on deadlines (and enjoy, 13 times, the wooshing sound they make as they fly by*) and work under pressure. I will be the first to say that a lot of what plopped out of my head was on the side of dreck, but there are a few quite serviceable pieces (and one helluva character) that made their way onto my digital page. I intend on prettying them up and sending them on the rounds in the next few weeks.

So. Thank you Julie Duffy for doing this, and thanks Michael for pointing me toward it. I had a blast!

 

 

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Monster, Puppet

May22
by berry on May 22, 2014 at 10:15 pm
Posted In: Uncategorized

So, this month I’ve been taking part in “Story a Day May“, A mad, crazy, cuckoo attempt to write a complete short story every single day in May. It’s hard, oh so very hard, but I’ve managed it most days. Victoria Day was, of course, one of the days I didn’t manage it. I did critique my own work that night, mid paragraph. I called it “a collection of pooh pooh caca sounds with farty pissy bitts in between”, and that about covers it.

Anyway.

Tonight’s prompt (and they have prompts every night, if you were interested in doing this and didn’t know where to start) was to use the words from SaDM’s organizer’s son’s 3rd grade spelling list, and then post it so everyone can have a good laugh at your expense see how different writers approach these random words. So, then, here is my totally awesome entry, containing these wonderful words:  Lettuce, Happen, Basket, Winter, Sister, Monster, Supper, Subject and Puppet. Enjoy. Or at least, don’t gag yourself with a spoon or something.

PS: I’ve only taken a light swipe at this thing, edit-wise, so don’t get all pedantic, comma-wise, on me. I, know, how, to, use, them, usually-wise,.

Monster, Puppet

It was the coldest winter I could remember. So cold it kept the usual clientele shivering in their rundown apartments, and off of my doorstep. So cold my cash flow was freezing up and needed a warm blanket of money. I was about to close up and find some warmth of my own — in a bottle if nowhere else — when she walked in. She had a face like a summer rose, but an expression like a wilting lettuce.

“Whaddya want, sister?” I asked, slipping my gloves on and making ready to leave.

“It’s my husband,” she said, sliding uninvited into the chair in front of my desk. “He’s having an affair, I know it.”

She looked at me hard, hard enough to make a little boy cry, but I was made of sterner stuff.  I hated domestic cases. I hated eviction more. “What makes you think it’s an affair?”

“He’s always late for supper, and if I ask him why he changes the subject. I don’t know what’s going on with him anymore. He’d talk to me about anything, and now..” She trailed off and shrugged her shoulders. Her face changed from hard to defeated.

“You want me to catch him in the act? Get you proof? You sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s all I’ve got. Wondering what’s going to happen to our marriage. I have to know one way or the other.”

###

She had a point, of course, and the money to drive the point home. That’s why I found myself outside a dive on the corner of 112th and 23rd, wishing I had put on my thermals. I’d followed Mr. Errant Husband from his work, keeping a half block behind. He had been whistling, yeah, whistling the whole way there, swinging a beat-up rattan basket as he went. He looked like a man on his way to a good time.

I knew the neighbourhood, but not well enough to go into this bar so early. I’d be out of place, and people would notice. So, I cooled my heels, waiting for the place to fill up, or for him to come out with a doll on his arm. A few more people started filtering in; most with bags, or boxes, or baskets like my mark. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I’d find out. Enough people had gone in that I could slip in, unnoticed.

 The heat in the place was welcome, but almost unbearable after the icy street. I kept my coat on anyway. The place was filling up, with most people crowding around the stage. A few tables were littered with the usual drunks you’d find at any bar, any time. I bellied up to the bar, ordered a bourbon. The bartender obliged, and asked if I was here for the show. He pointed toward the stage. I slipped him some bills and downed the glass before heading over.

The crowd was thick around the stage, but I have a personal presence, so they let me push my way through with only a couple of dirty looks. I kept my eyes peeled for my mark, but didn’t see him in the throng. As I turned to see if he had somehow gotten behind me, a roar erupted from the stage. I jumped. So did everyone else, but still. I turned back. A monster reared its ugly warty green face over the crowd, gnashing its teeth and making horrible sounds.

I did a double-take. It was a puppet. I got closer and found my mark behind it, his hand up its back. At least I was right on one count. I watched to the end, and I have to admit it moved me, and not a lot of stuff moves me.

I waited until he finished. While the next performer set up, I introduced myself and came clean to him about what I was doing there.

“An affair? But I love my wife! This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you having an artistic outlet that you want to keep hidden from her. You guys need to talk.”

He nodded, and went home with something to think about. Me, I had something to think about too. I hoped that I’d get paid for this gig.

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