#NaNoWriMo Eve…

It’s #NaNoWriMo Eve – are you ready?

 

#NaNoWriMo
If you’re this frazzled now and #NaNo hasn’t started, what will you be like at the end of the month?

 

T’is the day before #NaNoWriMo and all through the house…
No one is awake – not even your spouse.

Okay, so that’s a bit over the top but it is the last day before National Novel Writing Month (aka #NaNoWriMo) begins.

Have you girded your loins (perhaps an exaggeration), got your ducks in a row, an idea outlined, characters created and the like?

50,000 words in 30 days? I hear you gasp and quake with dread. But don’t think of it that way. With a mere 1667 words every day, you’ll reach that goal.

My goal for #NaNoWriMo is to write every day. I have two projects on the go – one which will only be about 15,000 words at the very most but with it and the other project (which is outlined to death), I could possibly come up with 50,000 words.  I figure when I get bored or run into a wall, or the voices in my head quit talking to me (yes, I hear voices),  I can switch off to the other.

Are you taking part in #NaNoWriMo? If so, I’d love to hear what you’re working on. Let me know in the comments.

Good luck everyone at reaching your writing goals!

 

A Halloween Tale

In keeping with the spooky atmosphere of the evening, I give you one of my short stories. The cemetery I based this story around is located just west of my hometown.

I chose the particular headstone because it’s set off by itself on a bit of a hill surrounded by trees.

I hope you enjoy this seasonal story.

A Halloween Tale

by

Melanie Robertson-King

Brian and Emily climbed off their bicycles outside a large three-storey, red brick house in the west end of the city. A huge sign bearing a griffin and the words Bed and Breakfast hung from a post in the front yard. “Is this the place, Em?” he asked.

“I think so,” she replied, sliding her heavy rucksack off. She dug into its small outside pocket and pulled out the confirmation e-mail. Scanning it, she looked at the house and sign. “Yes. We’re here.”

Emily slung her pack over one shoulder. They walked their bikes to the side of the house and leaned them against the wall before going to the front door. Just as Emily reached out to ring the bell, the inside door opened. Startled, she jumped back.

“You must be Brian and Emily. I’ve been expecting you,” the grey-haired, bespectacled woman said, craning her neck to see past them. “How did you get here? I don’t see a car.”

“Bicycles,” Brian answered.

“Come in, you must be exhausted. Your room is this way.”

Holding hands, the young couple followed the proprietor to their room.

“Here you are,” she said, opening the door. “I serve breakfast from seven to nine o’clock. You’re on your own for lunches and suppers but there are a number of places to get a good meal further along into town.”

“Thank you, Mrs. … ” Brian began.

“Griffin. Miriam Griffin.”

Meanwhile, Emily had walked to the window and was looking out at the street below. “We passed a couple of cemeteries just west of here,” she commented, turning to face Brian and their hostess. “What can you tell us about them?”

The woman’s face suddenly went pale. “Y-you don’t want to be going to the cemetery on the south side of the road,” she stammered. “Rumour has it, it’s haunted.”

“We do. I think my ancestors are buried there and that’s why we came. We’re doing a bit of genealogical research and want to take some rubbings of the family stones and photograph them for the book we’re writing.”

“If you think you must go there, go early in the day so that you’re away from there well before dark.”

Emily dropped onto the bed and ran her hand over the white duvet. “Tell us more. This sounds intriguing.”

“Well, it was 200 years ago this Halloween that young Emily McPherson disappeared. My, but your name is Emily, too, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Please go on.”

Brian sat down on the bed and put his arm around Emily’s shoulders.

“The story goes that a young girl lost her fiancé – a soldier – in a tragic accident in the early part of the war of 1812. His ship was carrying a load of explosives and it blew up. Everyone on board was killed.”

“What does that have to do with the cemetery?” Emily prodded.

“Well, they say she visited his grave every day until she disappeared and was there as always when a terrible storm blew up and folks never saw hide nor hair of her again. But before she vanished, a blood curdling scream was heard over the thunder – and then nothing. Just silence. The storm cleared as quickly as it had formed and Emily was gone. Alarmed by the terrible scream that came from the direction of the cemetery, some men sprang into action. When they reached the grave where the poor, bereft young woman spent most of her time, she was gone. No sign of a struggle. No sign that she had been dragged off – just the bluish glow that surrounded the headstone. From that night on, no one had ever set foot in that corner of the cemetery. You see why it’s imperative that you’re out of there before dark.”

“What a tragic, yet romantic story. We must find that grave, Brian,” Emily said, her eyes sparkling.

“We will but tomorrow after breakfast. Today, we scope out the town.” Brian stood and helped Emily up from the bed. “Thank you for sharing that, Mrs. Griffin. Em, here, well she’s a sucker for a cemetery and a love story,” he said squeezing her shoulders.

***

Out on the street, Emily wrapped her arms around Brian’s waist. “I wish we didn’t have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Come on, Em. If anything untoward is going to happen in that cemetery, it will be tomorrow on the actual anniversary. Not today.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she muttered.

Brian took her hand and they walked towards the town’s centre, stopping first at the local museum where the genealogical society’s archives were housed.

Emily scanned the floor to ceiling shelves lined with books, binders, maps and the society’s own publications. If the McPherson girl’s disappearance were such a big deal, then there had to be something written about it. She found a binder of newspaper clippings dating back to the beginning of 1812, sat down at one of the tables and flipped through it. Emily found the article about the explosion and couldn’t believe how much detail had been included on the crews’ injuries. Still, she took the page from the binder and made a photocopy. A few pages later, she found the other piece including a photo of the alleged haunted grave. halloweenWhile she looked through newspaper clippings, Brian busied himself with the old maps. When Emily photocopied the second article, two older women came down the stairs. They spoke in hushed tones about the anniversary of the McPherson girl’s disappearance.
Having the information she wanted, Emily and Brian left the museum and went to a nearby pub for a late lunch. Over a pint and burger, they shared their findings.

“According to the one article, Emily got engaged on June 1st and her fiancé was killed on June 2nd,” she said, taking a sip of beer.

The longer they stayed in the pub, the more uncomfortable Emily became. She felt as if she were being compared to the long-since missing girl. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, “these people are creeping me out.”

“If you want,” Brian replied, picking up his pint and draining the last of it.

After leaving the pub, they wandered in and out of some of the more eclectic stores on the main street. In a second-hand shop, Emily bought a cherry amber pendant. While she fastened the clasp, another young couple entered the shop, talking about the cemetery. They say that grave is haunted. Emily overheard. Yeah, I know. Even in the daylight people don’t go near it.

When Brian and Emily returned to the Bed and Breakfast, she emptied the contents of her rucksack onto the bed ensuring she had everything she needed for the next day. Camera, extra batteries, blank newsprint, and charcoal sticks in a baggie. She added the photocopies to the essentials and repacked her bag.

***

At breakfast the following morning, Mrs. Griffin begged them to reconsider visiting the cemetery. “It’s just all of the talk about how the poor girl vanished and this being the 200th anniversary,” she moaned, wringing her hands.

“We’re leaving as soon as we’re finished breakfast so will be back long before it gets dark,” Brian reassured her. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll stop here before we go to supper.”
Emily slipped on her leather riding gloves and heaved her rucksack onto her back. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back late this afternoon.” Pausing by the front door, Emily turned back. “Bye, Mrs Griffin. We’ll see you later,” she called cheerily as they exited.

It took about five minutes to reach the cemetery’s entrance. After dismounting, they walked their bikes along the narrow road and parked them against a tree near the river. Emily took her camera out and shot a few wide angle shots of the area for comparison later on.
Since they hadn’t gotten away from the Bed and Breakfast as early as they would have liked, Emily decided they should split up in order to cover twice as much territory. She gave Brian some of the sheets of newsprint and a couple of the charcoal crayons. He had a small point and shoot camera so could photograph the stones as well as take rubbings.

A row of white stones, beginning with two substantial ones followed by smaller ones caught Emily’s eye and she walked to them. It appeared to be an entire family – parents, and their ten children. She carefully photographed each one planning on looking into the family at a later date. Emily glanced over her shoulder and saw that Brian had worked his way out to an older section near the highway.

Walking along the narrow road, Emily spotted a flight of stone steps leading to an area sheltered by trees. As she climbed them, she noticed a small headstone next to a bathtub-like sarcophagus. Then she looked up onto the rock about four feet higher than the ground where she stood. A solitary monument occupied the space. Emily pulled the newspaper articles out of her rucksack. This headstone matched the one in the photocopy. The thick canopy of oak, pine, and maple trees kept the area in darkness even at his time of day. A gust of wind rustled through the tree tops overhead and a leaf fluttered to the ground, landing on the carpet of brightly coloured autumn leaves. What was once a stately oak tree stood guard over the site; its trunk and remaining branch denuded of bark and pocked with woodpecker holes.

HalloweenUp close, the headstone didn’t look menacing. Emily walked around it, feeling its roughness under her fingertips, and read the inscription which told the sad tale of a young man who lost his life tragically in a ship’s explosion. She photographed the inscription.

“Brian, come quick,” Emily yelled. She turned and waved her arms to get his attention. “I think I’ve found the haunted monument!”

He looked up and waved back but made no attempt to approach.

When he didn’t respond a second time to her calls, she scampered off the rock, pausing to take more photos then ran to him, stumbling over the uneven ground. Breathless when she reached Brian, Emily found it difficult to tell him she had found the headstone of the young soldier.

“You’ll remember where it was, Em? I’d like to get some rubbings of the stones in this section. Let me finish up here and we’ll head over,” Brian answered. He pulled Emily close and kissed her forehead.

Another stone with a worn but interesting inscription soon held their interest and they became engrossed in it – Emily with her camera and Brian with the newsprint and charcoal. They were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice the skies darkening.

HalloweenNot wanting to leave without a final visit to the haunted grave, Emily ran off towards it, Brian following close behind. It was dusk when they reached the location. As they drew nearer, the hairs on the back of Emily’s neck stood on end.

Suddenly, the sky turned pitch black. Not even the glow of the city’s streetlights could be seen. Emily couldn’t see Brian, yet they were only arms length apart. A brilliant flash of lightning and a simultaneous, deafening clap of thunder frightened Emily and she screamed. The pungent smell of ozone filled the air. The headstone now bathed in that ominous bluish glow, made her entire body tingle.

***

The next day, once it was realized they had failed to come back to the Bed and Breakfast the night before, a search party went to the cemetery to look for them. Just as it was when Emily McPherson disappeared all those years ago, there were no signs of a struggle, no signs of the young couple at all. But at the base of the stone, one of the searchers found a pendant – the same one the young woman was last seen wearing when she and her partner left for the cemetery. On the back was an inscription which read, ‘to my Emily June 1st, 1812. All my love BW’. The searchers looked at each other incredulously, then at the headstone. BW – Brian Wolfe. Were these two young people the ghosts of Emily and Brian?

Happy Halloween!halloween

The Hemingway Editor

Tools for Writers – The Hemingway Editor

I discovered the Hemingway Editor app through a blog post on Triberr the other day so thought I would try it out. I copied and pasted some text from one of the pieces I’m working on and clicked ‘edit’.

hemingway

Using different colours, it tells you sentences that are hard to read, very hard to read, simpler alternatives and not seen on the screen shot above, adverbs and uses of passive voice (highlighted in blue and green).

The online app is free to use, but you can also purchase a copy which will reside on your computer for $9.99 US for those occasions you want to edit but have no Internet access.

So, what do I think of it? Well, I’ve tried it and in some ways, I think it stifles my writing voice by suggesting shortening my sentences or splitting them into two. But on the other hand, finding instances of passive voice are extremely (egads an adverb) useful.

Why not give the free app a try? You’ve got nothing to lose… FREE is good.

I’d be interested to hear what your impressions are. Let me know in the comments.

It’s Tell a Story Day

It’s “Tell A Story Day”!

Well, in Scotland and England it is. And since my heart belongs to Scotland, and I have family and friends in both countries, need I say more?

Okay, so in keeping with the day, here’s my story…

tell a story

Blurb:

Nineteen-year-old Sarah Shand finds herself thrust back into the past. There she struggles to keep her real identity from a society that finds her comments and ideas strange and her speech and actions forward, unlike Victorian women. When Sarah verbally confronts confining social practices, including arranged marriages; powerful enemies commit her to a lunatic asylum. After falling in love with the handsome Laird of Weetshill, Robert Robertson, she must decide whether to find her way back to her own time or to remain in the past with him.

Now isn’t that a great story? I think so, but then I’m biased.

~~~~~~~~~~

You can buy A Shadow from the Past in print or ebook from:

4RV Publishing
amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
Kobo

Novels too long for your liking? How about a collection of short stories then?

read a book dayBlurb:

The Consequences Collection is an eclectic compilation of twelve stories ranging from non-fiction through creative non-fiction to pure fiction, in prose and poetry.

The story of a Scottish Home Child is based on fact and told from the child’s point of view; The Mystery Woman of Kinettles is a non-fiction article on the appearance and subsequent disappearance of a woman’s body near the Wellington County House of Industry (Poor House) in 1879 Southwestern Ontario.

Some of these stories are lighter than others, and some might even beg you to leave the lights on.

Where to buy The Consequences Collection:

Paperback:

Lulu.com

Epub:

Lulu.com

Kindle:

amazon.com

And for the younger folks who love a good story, how about one for Christmas?

tmc5_72dpi

Blurb:

For Tim Frost, Christmas 2011 is a washout. No Santa. No presents. Nothing. His father lost his job when the mill closed and now the family is on the verge of losing their home.

A chance encounter with Nick Kringle, a modern-day Santa Claus, teaches Tim that the greatest gift you can receive is the gift of giving.

Tim’s Magic Christmas is available in paperback from the author, or for the kindle at amazon.com.

You can follow me here at Celtic Connexions or at:

Website: http://www.melanierobertson-king.com/
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Melanie-Robertson-King/221018701298979
Twitter Account: @RobertsoKing https://twitter.com/RobertsoKing
Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6543072.Melanie_Robertson_King

 

TREES by Sam Smith ~ GUEST POST

My thanks to Melanie Robertson-King for asking me to guest on her blog and, as importantly, for telling me how to do it. Because, although I’ve done many things sub-literary in my writing life – organised poetry festivals and book fairs, run a small press, Original Plus, and for nearly 20 years now the poetry magazine The Journal (once ‘of Contemporary Anglo-Scandinavian Poetry’); and although I’ve had many publishers of my work, 2 of which went disastrously bust while I was working as editor for them, Safkhet Publishing is the first that has suggested that I be a guest blogger. The novel by the way is Trees and Safkhet are based in Germany.

trees

I’m based in the UK on the Cumbrian coast. Maryport describes itself as ‘By the sea near the Lakes.’ Not wholly sure how I ended up here, suffice to say that I like walking over mountains and I’ve moved about a bit. And my daughter Shelley Carmen was living in Edinburgh at the time we last moved. My usual author biog says, ‘… I was born Blackpool 1946, am now living in Maryport, Cumbria. A freelance writer, I have been a psychiatric nurse, residential social worker, milkman, plumber, laboratory analyst, groundsman, sailor, computer operator, scaffolder, gardener, painter & decorator…. working at anything, in fact, which has paid the rent, enabled me to raise my three daughters and which hasn’t got too much in the way of my writing.’ All of my daughters, and grandchildren, now live in the south, which annoyingly means I see a lot of the M6.

Here’s a picture of me on a mountain.

trees

The currently popular singer Sam Smith by the way is a clone. One of many talented individuals, male and female, bearing my monicker. We altered singer Sam’s DNA and gave him a musical gene. Hope that clears up any confusion.

But about TreesThe initial publicity says ‘As H was for Hawk will T now be for Trees? D for Distraction? P for Platonic? S for Sam? Or Smith?’ Which I hope will give putative readers a decent clue to the book’s contents. ‘H for Hawk’ concerned itself with a reconciling of the bereaved through falconry. Trees has a different death, an adopted daughter, and the mother finding solace through helping her birth father in his attempt to reforest as much as he can of England. Consequently each chapter has throughout descriptions of trees and diagrammatic representations of trees. (A labour of love Trees has taken me years to complete.)

treestreestreestrees

Although death might be the central feature of Trees what it mostly concerns itself with is the nature of family, and of those relationships beyond. Of friendships, and resentments, people we work with, of in-laws and outlaws. Of desires contained, physical capabilities and incapacities, sexual orientation, and trees.

Safkhet has set 31st October as the release date for Trees. You can read more about Trees here – http://www.safkhetpublishing.com/books/suspense/Trees.html

Or here – http://www.amazon.co.uk/Trees-Sam-Smith-ebook/dp/B016L0BBXM/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1444805525&sr=1-2&keywords=sam+smith%2C+trees

Other of my books are featured here – http://samsmithbooks.weebly.com

The Journal and Original Plus here – http://thesamsmith.webs.com/

 

BOOK PROMO ~ And Baby Makes Four by Tilly Tennant

baby

And Baby Makes Four

by Tilly Tennant

Mishaps in Millrise book4

baby

Mishaps in Millrise – a four-(novella)-part romantic spin-off from Mishaps and Mistletoe

Part 4 – And Baby Makes Four

Could Phoebe and Jack finally have put their troubles behind them? All is calm at Hendry’s toy store, and Jack’s mother has even developed a grudging respect for Phoebe. If Archie is serious about addressing his issues, then things are really starting to look rosy for the couple again. But when did Phoebe’s life ever go to plan?

As they prepare for what should be the happiest day of their lives, fate decides to throw them yet another curve ball. What they face will test them to the limit, but Phoebe might just believe in miracles before it’s through.

Buy Links

AMAZON UK

AMAZON.COM

ABOUT TILLY TENNANT

baby

Tilly Tennant was born in Dorset, the oldest of four children, but now lives in Staffordshire with a family of her own. After years of dismal and disastrous jobs, including paper plate stacking, shop girl, newspaper promotions and waitressing (she never could carry a bowl of soup without spilling a bit), she decided to indulge her passion for the written word by embarking on a degree in English and creative writing, graduating in 2009 with first class honours. She wrote her first novel in 2007 during her first summer break at university and has not stopped writing since. She also works as a freelance fiction editor, and considers herself very lucky that this enables her to read many wonderful books before the rest of the world gets them.

Hopelessly Devoted to Holden Finn was her debut novel; published in 2014 it was an Amazon bestseller in both the UK and Australia. It was followed by Mishaps and Mistletoe and The Man Who Can’t Be Moved. Find out more about Tilly and how to join her mailing list for news and exclusives at www.tillytennant.com

www.tillytennant.com

https://twitter.com/TillyTenWriter

https://www.facebook.com/TillyTennant

GIVEAWAY

1ST Prize – £10 / $15 Amazon Gift card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

baby

McDonalds Corners ~ Oct 25th

Today, I took part in the Annual Fall Craft Show at the McDonalds Corners Agricultural Hall. I did a show here in the spring and had fun at the event (and good sales). The battery-operated LED fairy lights put in an appearance again today and my easel and poster board (after repairs were done) showing the inspiration behind A Shadow in the Past came along, too.

McDonalds Corners
My display
McDonalds Corners
Me holding my “book babies”

BTW, this is a different red top but in the lead up to Christmas (okay it’s before Halloween), I think red is far more festive… not to mention it matches with my table cloth and tartan topper.

I love doing events like this. I meet so many interesting people. It’s great to connect with prospective customers and re-connect with those I’ve met before.

From what I’ve been told, this show is usually busy from start to finish. But the weather was gorgeous today so people probably stayed home and got outdoor chores done before the snow flies. Will it deter me from taking part in the future? No way!

By the end of the day, I sold 1 copy of The Consequences Collection.

Like I said, sales were soft but it was still a fun day… and enjoying life is what’s important.

Brinston show ~ Oct 24th

Today, I took part in the Brinston United Church fall craft show. I did this show last year and enjoyed myself, not to mention did well. Since it’s getting close to Christmas I brought my strings of battery-operated LED fairy lights with me and wound them around my displays of books.

Brinston
My display
Brinston
Me with my display
Brinston
Me with my display

I love doing events like this. I meet so many interesting people. It’s great to connect with prospective customers and re-connect with those I’ve met before.

By the end of the day, I sold 2 copies of A Shadow in the Past,  and 2 copies of Tim’s Magic Christmas. I also donated a copy of Tim as a door prize.

Tomorrow, I’m going back to McDonalds Corners where I did well in the spring.

 

#Scotland 2015 Day 18 – Fly Home

#Scotland 2015 – Sept 28, 2015

home

Checked out of the hotel, we were in Terminal 2 before the Air Transat counter even opened. Flying Option Plus gave us priority check-in, boarding and luggage handling so we would be looked after before the minions. And speaking of minions, one of them (and his wife) stood where the line would begin until they were told to go sit down because it would be another half an hour or so before check-in would be open. So what did they do then? They left their luggage carts (hers with all the luggage – his with his golf clubs only) behind saving their places so that they would be at the head of the queue. That didn’t last long. Someone came along and told them if they didn’t move the bags, they would be considered unattended luggage and destroyed. And wouldn’t you know, they moved the bags… drat.

One thing I’d not seen in the airport was a clock. Neither one of us wears a watch. Both my phones (unlocked iPhone and Blackberry) were in our soon-to-be checked in large bags, and hubby’s Blackberry was turned off because it needed to be charged at the first opportunity.

There was a girl at the Air Transat information desk so he walked over there to find out what time it was. While there, he asked if there were any seats remaining in Club Class. It was supposed to be a surprise but since I had the tickets and our passports in my bought-in-Edinburgh handbag, the surprise was no more. Rather than leave our stuff unattended, I loaded up and wheeled our large bags over. Thankfully, it wasn’t far.

Two seats were left in Club but they weren’t together. But with only six seats up there, we wouldn’t be far apart. Upgrade paid for (this morning hubby’s MasterCard wouldn’t work – mine hadn’t worked the entire trip) on a different credit card, the young lady from here walked over to check-in with us. And we did get two seats together!

Checked in, and through security, we stopped at Beardmore for breakfast. We’ve eaten here in the past and it’s good food and good value for the money.

When we reached the departure lounge at gate 29, there were electrical outlets on the wall by the end of the row of seats. Adapter pulled out of the CPAP machine bag, charger cable out of hubby’s computer backpack, his Blackberry was plugged in. It wouldn’t get a full charge but at least it would have enough to be able to phone/text my cousin when we landed and when we got to the post outside where she would meet us.

I took a few pictures of planes taking off through the window directly in front of our seats before hubby took the camera and said ‘pretend you’re sad’. I didn’t have to pretend. I was but pulled a face and he snapped the picture.

home
Me pulling an exaggerated sad face in the terminal because we were leaving

An Air Transat plane landed and we assumed it was ours. I followed it to the other side of the departure lounge and got photos of it approaching the gate.

home
Our plane taxiing after landing
home
Our plane approaching the gate

We had decided to leave the Blackberry charging for as long as possible – even if it meant carrying it, cable and adapter plug in hand when we were called to board.

Gradually, the lounge filled up and Mr and Mrs Minion arrived. When the call was made to board, they rushed over even though at that point it was only people travelling with young children under the age of 5 or people who needed assistance. Club and Option Plus were next. Our seats were in the front row of Club Class between the two aisles of the plane.

The look on Mr Minion’s face was priceless when he and the missus boarded. We were long since seated and were sipping champagne when they finally got on.

Our flight director was wonderful. She teased hubby (after telling him he couldn’t use his headphones until we were in the air but he could still hold my hand). He’s not a good flyer.

Once everyone was seated, the safety video started, we taxied out to the runway for takeoff. Well, that was the plan. We accelerated and were just about the point of leaving the ground when the pilot braked hard and put the engines in reverse to stop us. Even though I was firmly strapped into my seat belt, I felt myself slide forward in the seat so put my foot against the bulkhead to keep from going any further forward.

The pilot came on the intercom and told us a warning light had gone off so he aborted the takeoff. We sat on a taxi way while fire engines rushed out to where we sat. We were informed this was standard procedure and we weren’t on fire but they had to check the landing gear and the brakes before they’d let us return to a gate.

The guy who had a window seat on the left side of the plane pulled his phone out and took pictures of the fire engine parked out there.

I turned hubby’s phone back on and texted my cousin telling her our flight was delayed but not the reason behind it and that we would check back with them when we could before turning the phone back off. I didn’t want her to worry needlessly and I didn’t want to run out the bit of charge we’d given the battery.

When we got back to the gate, the flight crew opened the doors on the plane to let in fresh air and to cool things down a bit then brought around water and plastic glasses for anyone who wanted it. Trying to make light of the situation, all I could think of saying was “Honey, I’m home!” and so I did.

One of the employees who we’d met at check-in but wasn’t one of our flight crew boarded during the repairs. Hubby had teased her earlier about being the ‘boss’ because she was at a counter by herself. He asked her if this was the same plane we had flown over on back on 11th September. She wouldn’t say yay or nay, but did say she’d tell him the next time we came over.

About an hour later, we were ready to try the takeoff again. This time it was without incident. The plane landed just before 5:00 pm and by 5:45, we had cleared customs got our bags off the carousel and were waiting by post 42. I don’t think anyone from our flight was pulled into secondary. I figure they thought we were all too traumatized by the aborted takeoff. I know the guy in the baggage hall was freaked out when we told him how our flight started.

After a long and eventful day, we finally arrived home at 10:30 and didn’t even bother to unpack. De-briefed with our son who had looked after the house and dog while we were gone, texted my cousin to say we had arrived safely, spent some time paying attention to the dog before going to bed.

And poor me has to get up to go to work tomorrow morning!

#Scotland 2015 Day 17 – Bankend to Glasgow Airport

#Scotland 2015 – Sept 27, 2015

This was our last ‘full’ day in Scotland. The beautiful weather was a direct contrast to how we were feeling. The only thing we knew this morning is that we didn’t want to go to the hotel via the A74(M).

Glasgow
Along the A76 north of Thornhill

When we were stopped to take photos near Mennock, we decided that we had time to go visit our friends who live at Quarriers Village.

Glasgow
Along the A76 between Mennock and Sanquhar
Glasgow
Along the A76 between Mennock and Sanquhar

Lucky us, we ended up behind a farm tractor at Lochwinnoch and were stuck behind him the rest of the way to the village. Well, not quite all of the way. We were close enough that the bell tower on the church was visible so the first road to the right, I turned down it. Anything to get away from the tractor.

From this road, we got an excellent view of the three former consumption sanatoria buildings – now converted to luxury flats and surrounded with new housing. Unfortunately, there wasn’t an opportunity to pull over and take photos. But, you can see what we saw from this image from google street views.

We had a lovely surprise visit with our friends. They had things to do later that afternoon so we didn’t get to stay long but it was still great to see them – even for just a short time.

Things in the village have changed considerably since our last visit there. Double yellow lines and speed bumps (I believe they’re called ramps) on the streets. The bridge over the Gotter Water has finally been repaired (gone is the Bailey bridge and traffic lights at either end that had been there for years). The church where we renewed our vows in 2000 for our 25th wedding anniversary has also been converted to flats. The peaceful atmosphere that once enveloped the village is no longer there which is sad.

We said our goodbyes and promised that next time we would ‘warn’ them ahead of our impending visit so they could run off and hide… LOL!

Since we had papers and bags and such loose on the floor in the back seat of the car, we stopped in Bridge of Weir and gathered everything up into a couple of bags, put my cameras back in their case so when we returned the rental car, we wouldn’t have to do it all then.

The only confusion we had when we returned the car, was we were never given an updated rental agreement. We still had the original one for the Ford Focus we were supposed to have. According to the guy there, we shouldn’t have had to pay the extra to upgrade to the larger Vauxhall Astra Estate because it was their idea to give us a bigger vehicle.

We always get the CDW (collision damage waiver) so once we gave him the rental agreement, we didn’t have to stick around. We were free to leave – okay after the aforementioned confusion was cleared up. Hubby got a cart and we loaded our bags onto it and trundled through the carpark and to the hotel.

Because of the convenience of dropping our rented vehicle off and the proximity of the hotel to the airport, we always spend our last night here. In the past, our flights left early in the morning so it was nice to only have to ‘stagger’ across five lanes of traffic to get into the airport terminal.

Glasgow
Our room at the Holiday Inn, Glasgow Airport
Glasgow
Our room at the Holiday Inn, Glasgow Airport

As has become habit over the years, the first order of business once we’re settled (and me taking pictures), we rearrange the suitcases so that they’re as close to equal weight as we can get and preferably below the limit. We’d booked Option Plus so had an extra 10 kg weight allowance per bag which is a good thing since both were over the 20 kg limit.

Once that chore was completed, we went for a walk through the airport and around the ‘block’ before returning to the hotel where we had supper and drinks in the bar before going back to our room.