Roland Ladley's Blog, page 21

We are the lucky ones

our local industrial estate is ok?

Apparently it’s 20 degrees in Paris and people are wandering around the Tuileries in t-shirts. Beijing has just had it’s first 20 degree February day and that warm patch started in the Black Sea and headed east. Apparently Steve and Bex are going to get it tomorrow. All the while central US is suffering a cold spell so tough, electricity stations have closed down, wind farms have frozen, and they’ve been told to boil their water (with what?). As an aside, you may have seen that the Texan Republican senator, Ted Cruz, flew with his children to Cancun in Mexico just as it started to freeze … which is a bit ironic: US politician crosses border into Mexico for a better life. Apparently he told his friends his hotel room was a bargain at $390 a night. He quickly realised that his trip was abrogation of his duties and flew back … but we all saw him.

Of course, this is all climate change in action. And that got C and I chatting (again) about how lucky we are … our generation. We have had the very best of everything, and now we’re likely to get the best of climate change, before the extremes are so bad the global population picks up its sleeping bag and moves somewhere more sensible. Our kids will start to see the worst of it. And Henry? What legacy are we going to leave for him?

and what for Henry?

Our generation’s luck started with decent final salary pensions, low interest rates (certainly in the last 20 years) and a house price boom when most of us already owned one. Of course, our ageing parents – some of whom are no longer with us – also own property, and we are also benefiting from that. And it seems that as the growth in life-expectancy slows, we have had the best of that, as well.

We are so lucky.

new slippers, mmmm

C and I have started ‘sitting room’ palates. We are still walking/running, but C suggested we give it a go. And so, with some rearranged furniture we just about make enough floor space to give it a go. And, disappointingly, C is better at it than me. She always was better at aerobics, where I have the coordination of a park bench. But, interestingly, when the woman on the TV asks us to do stuff which involved leg muscles, my bum and thighs screamed blue murder. I have no problem with my stomach muscles, and I am a decent runner, but wiggling your legs around when you’re flat on your back and they’re off the ground – well, that’s not cricket. C manages its with the grace of a ballet dancer.

Guitar practice continues. I’ve given myself a year – that is, Christmas Day 2021. I can already sense that I’m making progress (three hours yesterday) although it takes me forever to get a rhythm. Strumming includes down and up strokes with your right hand, and then you can mute the strings with your left hand to create a percussive sound. And sometimes you mute on the up, and sometimes you mute on the down. And now change chord … it’s a struggle. But I am persevering. I’ll let you know how it’s going in December.

Other than that we’re fine. I think we’ve made the decision that, regardless of what His Borisness says, we will not leave the house until we’ve had our first vaccination + two weeks. Whichever way you look at it, we’re talking a couple of months. Well, we’ve waited this long, we might as well see it through to a sensible conclusion.

Our Jen’s gone for portraits now … loving this.

Stay safe everyone. There’s a Finish study which says the N95 masks (we bought some to go to Korea) are super brilliant and anything less is helpful, but not perfect (95% versus 60% apparently). They’re not expensive and last longer than a single shot. So maybe order some for when you’re shopping?

‘Til mid-week.

Mmm, busy

I’ve actually been quite busy with the old compassionate leadership stuff. Post the 360s and the departmental planning aide, I’ve been supporting a Deputy Head prepare for headship interviews, as well as meeting the MoD team after I put some recommendations to them about their leadership processes. The boss tells me that her boss might be in touch for some more work – that’s not a bad thing? Certainly during lockdown it’s all really helpful. After all, I have very little else to do. And the work looks set to continue to the end of March, although I know a school has work for me in the summer term. All in all it’s great to be wanted.

Interestingly our daughter Bex, who’s a teacher in Seoul, reminded me that I don’t charge anywhere near enough for my services. I don’t know – and I know I’ve rehearsed this before – my rates allow me to be flexible and lower expectations. If I over deliver, that’s a good thing, right?

look, Mrs Sun is out on The Reader

Next is the second proof read of book 7 in the Sam Green series, which I think is going to be called The Belmonte Paradox. I should start that in March. Book sales of the rest continue to potter along. Someone in the US bought all six books yesterday, which is highly unusual. Normally I can spot a run, when someone buys one book after the other, but never six in one go. I’m not complaining, though.

We’re both fine. C’s still knitting like a woman with wool to spare. And she’d accumulated a good load of baby clothes for the wee lad. We see him, via WhatsApp, most days. He seems really, really happy. And it is something else watching Bex love him so much. He’ll certainly get it in spades when he comes home. Neither of us can wait. It is an extraordinary feeling.

I love this photo …

Now that the weather has deemed it important enough to improve, I have a longish list of outside jobs to get on with. Like the Forth Road bridge, Doris needs work. And both bikes need a strip down service. C’s talking about improvements to the garden and there’s a wall in the garage that’s crying out for shelving. All of that will come. In the mid-distance, once restrictions are lifted, we will pop up and see Mum and Mary. And then I can see Doris’s tyre prints all over a couple of campsites in the sunshine. Can’t wait for that.

Other than that, it’s all ok here. We’re still double-masking when shopping, and only leaving home for exercise and shopping. I hope you’re all well and keeping safe. The vaccine is tantalisingly close … not long now. Look after yourselves.

Another Sunday …

C tells me the heart’s the wrong way round, and should be the other way where there’s no seam …

Another Sunday … this time, of course, it’s Valentine’s Day, which is another ‘must buy a gift day’ between Christmas/New Year and Mothering Sunday, and then Easter. It is a marketeer’s dream and drives me round the bend a little bit. C and I, a bit like Christmas, made a firm pledge that we wouldn’t buy cards or, indeed presents. The result of the pact was, I think, two lovely and completely free gifts. (I had to make sure the Amazon cardboard packaging was covid-19 free) … anyhow, cost to us = nothing; benefit – a little bit of love.

Along those lines, like the Scrooge I am, I am still collecting data for our electricity. Bearing in mind how blooming cold it’s been, we’ve managed to get the maximum cost down to £4.15 a day, of which three-quarters is economy 7/overnight. It has been an interesting exercise and might be worth giving it a go, if you have the energy (did you know one shower costs us 12p?). I reckon we’ll save at least £30 a month, noting that we’ve not been cold – although C might dispute that claim – and have had plenty of hot water.

Work has been good. I’ve finished the Departmental Planning aide for the school in Hampshire. I’ve got to proof it again on Monday, and then it can go. And I’m coming to a conclusion with the MoD team I’m working with. That’s gone well, I think, although I don’t know what they want the next step to be … I’ll find out next week. In both cases it’s not a great deal of money, because my rates are so low, but it really does add to the ‘do I feel valued?’ part of my psyche which, I guess with most semi-retired people, is a constant terrier at your ankles. It is for me.

Book sales are also sensible – my stock average is a book day across the world, which is nothing in cash terms but is, as I understand it, a very good return for authors without a publisher. I sold 24 books in December and 32 in January. This month I’m ahead of the curve (20 by the 14th), so I’m not complaining. It is, at the end of the day, about marketing. When Amazon selected Fuelling the Fire via the Kindle Scout programme, the first four months of sales (which included a significant upturn for Unsuspecting Hero) in 2016 were: 670, 607, 1095 and 321. They were ‘best-selling’ figures – and the reviews averaged at 4.2/5, which was also among the best. At that point I was very excited about becoming the next Len Deighton. Alas as the advertising support dropped, so did the sales … to pick up with the release of new titles, but only as a blip. Sales have since been a slow decline to a steady state of 30 books a month. [I did have one month over a year ago when I sold just seven … at which point I was close to undabbing my quill.]

I really should do something about marketing … especially if I’m going to get anywhere near my target of 300 books a month before I peg it.

Our Jen’s getting v good at these cartoon characters

Other than that, we’re fine. The news from Korea is all good. Our Jen (and James) are, like all of us, plodding along, and my mum’s boiler went on the blink yesterday. Thankfully she has v good neighbours. Six hours later a friend of a friend who is a plumber popped round and sorted out a new controller and a replacement valve out and now she’s back to cooking on gas. We are so lucky …

Keep safe, as always. I’m guessing C and I will get the call for a jab in March sometime. It won’t change our behaviour, but it will make us both feel a lot safer. I’m sure we can hang on for a month.

A couple of things …

I’ve stayed off the big three political hot potatoes, Brexit, the handling of covid and Trump’s second impeachment, for a while – and will continue to do so. Almost. It is clear that from a trade perspective, as was pointed out under the disingenuous headline of ‘Project Fear’, Brexit is not great for most traders – or Northern Ireland. And the indications are that it’s going to get worse. Of course it’s all the EU’s fault – that they’re treating us like a third country when we are, clearly and by own our design to get maximum ‘sovereignty’, a third country. Everything that’s now going wrong, including this morning’s report that Amsterdam is now the trade centre for European stocks rather than London, was pointed out but not listened to, by the ‘experts’ behind Project Fear. I sense that we have yet to see the bottom of this slope and the only conceivable way to reverse the trend is to rejoin the single market and custom’s union. That may well happen.

As for covid the vaccination programme is a real success – and well done us, and particularly the NHS who, unlike Serco with Test and Trace, have really made things happen. I don’t want to rake over old ground, but vaccines are not the single solution. Controlling our borders (a major tenet of Brexit, afterall) and a working Test and Trace system, all need to be in placed before we start to ease lockdown if we’re to keep on top of the disease. I fear that that is not going to happen and a fourth wave in the autumn is likely. We’ve had a year to sort out both and, alas, neither are in good shape.

still walking …

But … His Orangeness. Whilst it was pretty certain that the Senate wouldn’t convict Trump (only 7 of the 17 Republican senators needed to convict looked set to vote against him), the latest news from the Capitol is that Trump’s defence is rubbish and the prosecution are doing a fab job – and are showing new videos of the 6th of January which are shocking everyone. If things continue like this some minds might be changed. Let’s hope so. The evidence is completely clear. Backbones appear to be less visible.

We’re fine. I’m close to finishing a ‘departmental planning’ guide for a school and I’m 5/7ths of my way through interviews for an MoD team. All of that is going well and will bring in a bit of beer money. We’re still walking for at least an hour a day, and I’m running every second day. We’re managing to keep the house warm in these freezing conditions – I’m still keeping a day-to-day record of our electricity spending, but I’m not sure I can reduce the bill much more without asking C to walk around all day smothered by her duvet.

Of course, we have no eyes on the future. I think C’s a bit trouble by the rise of the ‘variants’ and the impact that’s having on the efficacy of the vaccines. I tend not to think about it too much, otherwise it would do my head in. We have some people we need to see and a big white motorhome which needs her legs stretching. I reckon we’ll be away in April … is that too long to wait?

Henry’s found his thumb

TV update. Loved It’s a SIn (C4). Can’t get enough of Staged (BBC). And we thought Greenland, (Prime) was hopeless. Back onto the Marvel franchise then …

Keep safe everyone. Please.

It’s been a while

I’ve been blogging here for seven and a half years. Yes, that’s a long time, especially as most of that is drivel. When we started fulltiming (living in a motorhome without a base which lasted for four and a half years), I religiously posted here every day. And then, when we stopped our major European adventure (after about 14 months), I dropped the blogging to twice a week: pretty much Wednesdays and Sundays. And I haven’t missed one of those. I think that makes it close to 1500 posts. What did I have to say? ‘Not much’, was the stern reply.

I now follow just two motorhomers, Eric and Shazza – https://moreswervesintheroad.wordpress.com/ and Ju and Jay – https://ourtour.co.uk/home/, both of whom I’ve been following from the beginning, and both of whom were (and are) inspirations. Ju and Jay are the most famous motorhome bloggers in the UK, have written a number of books on the matter and have appeared on the BBC among other media outlets. They’re currently in their van in Spain (on a campsite) and they post at least once a week. Their journey is pretty fantastic and if you want to get inspired to give up most things and follow a dream, their site is worth a visit. Eric and Shazza are much more like us – older and little more sensible. They now have a bolt hole in Spain, along with a motorhome. Their’s is an interesting story if your looking at fulltiming at the moment – what with the Brexit restrictions and that they are not Spanish residents.

We, as you know, are not fulltiming and probably never will again; that box has been ticked. I think I probably would, post covid, but I couldn’t inflict it on C. But we remain travellers. Even during the rubbish 2020, and strictly obeying the rules, we had 4 weeks skiing in the Alps, 6 weeks in Yorkshire in Doris and a final 6 weeks in Korea. And Doris is ready for her first adventure in 2021 – once we open up!

how lucky am I?

And how have we been? Well work has generated some more work, which is nice. I’ve finished the 360s and I’ve been asked to provide a departmental planning tool for the school (a days’ work for me). And I’ve got six interviews next week with an MoD team. So all that’s ongoing and keeping me out of trouble. We’re still walking/running and my guitar follows me around begging to be played – and I am managing as much as I can. Which brings me onto a bit of a story …

,my fave (so fa) Henry photo

… I need a full size guitar, like my little one – which is a fab Yamaha 3/4-sized – but bigger. So a quick look at Gumtree (where I found the Yamaha) and I spotted an almost unused £300 Tanglewood, down to £130 (after negotiation). It was on sale in central Bristol, which isn’t an essential journey, and I knew I couldn’t easily test it on the man’s front lawn. Anyhow, I bought it pretty unseen, picked it up (masked and everything), brought it home and … it has a lovely tone. That’s all I’m going to say. Well, other than it is completely unforgiving. I cannot get a decent noise out of it without my fingers protesting. So … big mistake. I will sell it and not buy anything else until I can get into a guitar shop and test a complete range. Ho hum.

How are you? I suppose the upcoming cold snap is a good thing, in that crispy winter is better than miserable rainy days? I hope it is for you. I’m still spreadsheeting our electrical usage. We appear to be at an irreducible minimum in terms of heat and dials, and our average spend (remember we don’t have gas) is about £3.50 a day. That’s pretty good for mid-winter. And we aim to cut that in half during the summer. The beauty of living in a small house, I guess.

Keep safe. Don’t go on any unnecessary journeys (like buying a guitar …) and wear a mask in enclosed spaces. You are so close to getting your first jab. Don’t catch it now. Oh, and final TV recommendation. I loved The Serpent on BBC – C less so. And if you’re after some detailed, short comedy, have a look at Staged, again on the Beeb. Post Schitt’s Creek, it’s really fab.

A bit of a bill

I’m sat in Doris waiting for my final call to a deputy head to close the 11x 360s I’ve just completed. On that, I’m really pleased with how they’ve gone. It’s my second batch with the school and the mood music is all very good, both from the staff and the senior team. Indeed, from a chat with academic deputy this morning I’ve already been lined up for some more in the summer and there is other work coming my way between now and Easter. All in all a good result … and, just in case I thought I could put my feet up I am working with the MoD team next week. It’s about the right level of engagement, especially during lockdown 3.

out mugging old ladies

On just as a dull note (why do people read this?), we’ve had a bit of an electricity bill. A lot of it was due to a late reading, but with a house that only has electricity (Economy 7) it felt like a friendly crack dealer, we’d been supplying to the whole street. Of course, we normally spend a good slab of January away from home skiing, which makes a difference. But, nonetheless, neither of us are sure where the amps have gone. So. I’m running a bit of a daily spreadsheet, looking particularly at our Economy 7 wall heaters. The aim is to find 30% savings without catching hypothermia. I’ll let you know how it goes. And if you don’t hear from me, somebody please pop round with a flask of something warm and a couple of blankets.

We’re still running and walking. We’re still watching slabs of telly – now onto The Serpent, on BBC, which is fab. And we’re getting towards the end of Schitt’s Creek (Netflix) which is Canadian comedy and very easy … and, on occasion, laugh out loud. Apparently, along with the next Marvel film on our list, we have to watch It’s a Sin, (C4), about the AIDS epidemic which has, apparently, blown all previous streaming records. We’re up for that. Oh, and we’re a third of a way through A New Life In The Sun, which keeps me amused. On the face if it, it may sound as though we do nothing but watch telly. That’s not strictly the case …

our Jen’s getting good at this. All from a computer drawing programme

Other than that we’re fine. The weather is mostly keeping us inside, when what I’d like to be is out smartening up Doris’s flanks. That will come. And I do have a long list of outside jobs, including fully servicing the bikes. But I will wait for some decent weather before I give that a go … as well as resealing Doris’s roof lights (a big job), I am keen to resort the garage and put some more permanent shelving in. Currently it’s our larder, where C keeps our nuclear fallout stocks. I think that would look better on a set of shelves, don’t you think? Get on it Roland.

Princess Rebecca and Viscount Henry

I hope you are all well. It seems that, leaving aside the appalling virus death rate, the realisation that as a 3rd country our trading relationship with the EU (and, bizarrely NI) is lengthy and complicated, and that, having taken control of our borders we seem incapable of securing them against covid infections (something so many other islands have managed), the vaccination process is going well for us . And all of the jab efficacy results seem to point to the fact that we might be coming out of this … I hope so. This has been, in it’s way, something to tell your grandchildren about. But it’s now close to not being funny. Fingers crossed.

Keep safe, everyone. Wear a mask, keep your distance and don’t believe everything you read on SM. And it’s OK not to be productive. It really is. Especially when there’s so much decent telly on …

Nothing to grumble about

I guess it’s fair to say that we’re both at that low point, both seasonally and from covid-19. The weather has at best been patchy and whilst work has kept me occupied (most of the last two weeks), yesterday wasn’t a good day. Today is slightly better. I did some some prep work for next week first thing, we’ve been for a long walk, had some lunch, and now I’m penning this. I’ve got four pretty full days next week and then things should settle down, work wise. But that isn’t the issue … it’s a combination of everything all of us are going through. And we’re the lucky ones. Yet again, I feel for those of you, or those you know, who are on their own, or struggle financially, or are having to home school when that’s not your best idea of fun. It must be so tough in so many cases. Somehow though, I think the important thing to remember is that this will get easier. As the days get longer, Mrs Sun gets higher, and the vaccination programme starts to cut numbers … it should get a bit sweeter. For all of us.

someone has some new earrings

I’m still enjoying the guitar. Believe it or not I have shied away from using a plectrum … up until now. There’s a difference. The plectrum is a single point of contact with the strings – and you can’t just drop it, and pick it up again. When you start a song with a plectrum, you finish with it. On the other hand, if you use your thumb and fingers, you have five separate digits (and combinations of) to play with. That combination does add complexity, but it doesn’t require the same pin point accuracy you need with a plectrum. Mmm. I’m getting somewhere.

TV. Well we’re five films into the Marvel series. They’re good … and there are plenty of them. C asked me today if I was ready to look at the third series of The Handmaid’s Tale. Ehh, not yet. We both need some sunshine first, thank you very much. But, we have dipped into the latest series of A New Life in the Sun (following Brits moving to France and Spain to set up a new life). I love it because it’s something we’ve discussed forever and it’s lovely to see couples and families doing something we didn’t, even with covid and Brexit. The reason I mention it is there’s male gay couple who love motorhoming, and they’ve set up a motorhome rental company in France. What’s unsurprising is that they are fastidious with their workplace and the vans. Everything is immaculate. Which rather throws shade over Doris … which is now a job on my list for when this batch of work finishes.

keeping in touch

Other than that, we’re managing – and we continue to count our blessings. Last year was a right off for most. But we still managed to ski before covid kicked off, we had 6 sunny weeks in Yorkshire in Doris, and a further 6 weeks in Seoul. And with Doris ready to take us wherever, when the restrictions are lifted, we have nothing to grumble about. Have we?

grumpy old me

Stay safe everyone. Your jabs are on their way.

I’m not sure I’m enjoying these early starts …

I’m a bit busy, all of a sudden … which, on reflection, is not a bad thing. I’m into two bits of work with the school in Hampshire. First, is a self reflection questionnaire for the school’s prefects. All-in-all it’s about 5 hours’ work, but it’s still got to be done (write the Qer, dispatch it, collect it and then produce the reports). Then I have these twelve 360 degree staff reports. These are no small thing: a combination of a multitude of Qers (I have written 6 separate ones which, between them, go out to around 200 staff, students and parents), 40 remote interviews (with the staff in question and other staff), twelve 4-page reports, and then twelve one-to-one debrief interviews. That should all be over by this time next week.

out in the mobile office

And then, out of the blue, the second MoD team I’ve been dealing with get in contact about more support. That started yesterday and could likely run through to the end of March. I’m not complaining (really) and, as is always the case, once I start these things I love them. It’s great to be back involved with professional people and, whilst any coaching type work is emotional draining, it’s worth it. Of course … I get paid. Not much, but that all helps.

It’s also good to be back out in Doris, my mobile office. And it gives C some space, which I know she’s enjoying.

Our Jen’s getting really good at these computer art …

Other than that, I’m still strumming away at the guitar, still – both of us – running/walking, and still trying our best to stay safe. Insofar as TV, we’ve left season three of The Handmaid’s Tale behind, because we were going to hang ourselves from the rafters, and are now making our way through the Marvel movies in order. I think they’re hit and miss, myself. We were already a season through Agents of Shield, which I really like, and everyone is taking about Wanda Vision, the new Marvel series, which is meant to be both good and funny.

And 100,000 deaths. And Boris Johnson saying ‘we did all we could’. I’m sorry, but the number of times I’ve shouted at my phone/TV/radio about the things they could be doing, which they eventually did, but always late. And, as a result, the number of lives we’ve lost unnecessarily. It really saddens me. Kevin, my brother, died relatively early in the process. If the government had lockeddown two weeks earlier, as many were recommending, he might be alive now. But even if you forgive that, the next two lockdowns were both two weeks later than recommended. And don’t get me started on masks, the simplest, cheapest and one of the least intrusive safety measures.

I’m going to stop … before I spoil my supper.

aw, Henry. That’s helped.

Please stay safe. The numbers are starting to come down and none of us want to be an ‘end of the war casualty’. And give someone a ring – someone on their own – who you wouldn’t normally talk to. It will only take a couple of minutes.

Swoosh, swoosh

Snow. Great. I love it. This time last year (and I don’t mean to boast) we had already had four weeks skiing in Chatel, and were now back in the UK. We have, on more occasions than I can recall, spoken about selling everything and moving to the French Alps. Originally, in the 90s, it was the Austrian Alps. That’s how long we’ve been thinking about it for. Frankly anywhere where the summer is warm and the winters cold … and the ski lifts are well greased. We don’t need a huge ski area, we just need somewhere to practice our turns. Of course, since Brexit and the removal of freedom of movement, that balloon has been punctured. Whilst we could buy somewhere, we would need to apply for citizenship to make it worthwhile … and, whilst that’s not beyond us, it adds all sorts of admin and finance complications which we are not prepared to consider.

So we will continue to ski (as part of our allowed any 90/180 days) and, as I said to C this morning as we were out there among the white stuff, we will do a season at some point. Probably a full three months, which would give us another three months for a sunshine trip by the beach in Doris. There is nothing like it: snow, sun, skis, apres-ski … walking, sledging, fresh mountain air. Mmm. Just thinking about it …

Of course, with the covid situation it seems less and less likely that we’ll get away this year. There are some places in the Alps where you can summer ski, but it’s not quite the same thing. We do, however, have one hand on our ski poles and if the opportunity arises we will seize it.

can’t wait to get this little chap on skis

Back with a bump.

I’m the epilogue away from finishing edit one of book 7, now titled The Belmonte Paradox. I love it. Yes, I need to go through it again and strengthen one of the plot arcs, and I’ll do that in a couple of weeks’ time. Between now and then I’ve got these 12 x staff 360s appraisals for a school in Farnham. It’s taken up most of my mornings this week, and will pretty much fill next week and half of the week after. I don’t charge much, but I’m not that bothered. It is, in its own way, about giving something back. And I got a follow-up call from a second MoD team yesterday. It seems likely that I’ll have some work for them in the next month or so. Is it what I want? No, ideally I’d be making money with the novels. But, alas …

Finally, the guitar playing is cracking on. I’m getting there. I’ve given myself 12 months – to Christmas Day this year – to see how far I get. And my fingers have stopped bleeding, which is a good sign.

Anyhow, stay safe. I think the restrictions are here to stay for at least a further couple of months. And I think the government will issue stricter measures tomorrow. I really see fear in Johnson’s and Hancock’s eyes. I think the length and scale of this has (surprisingly) caught them off guard. The new variants, the state of the NHS and the number of deaths can’t be beaten with propaganda – and they’re eventually waking up to that. In some ways I’d be amazed if the pair of them make it to March – it can’t be much fun.

So. mask up, stay safe … and look after each other.

All change

His Orangeness has gone. Good-bye. Let’s hope we never see the likes of him again. You sense that, whilst the Biden/Harris combo might make mistakes and we might not necessarily agree with all of their policy decisions (I might, actually), morality and integrity have returned to the White House. Here … not so much. And that it really hurts.

it’s been a bit stormy here …

Nothing to add really. Our routine continues. I’m working hard on 12 x 360 degree reports for a school in Hampshire – 36 separate questionnaires. That will take two weeks to finish (I don’t think I charge enough). Other than that, we’re fine. Hunkering down …

As a result I thought it might be a good thing to share my Sam Green short story which I wrote a couple of years ago. It’s a prequel to the series, but it gives you a flavour of her … and my writing.

Jen’s pets – confused by the rain. They’re not the brightest …

Stay safe everyone.

+++++++

Sam Green Short Story

C Company Ops Room, Forward Operating Base (FOB), Helmand

It didn’t look right. It just didn’t. Sam raised a finger to the screen. She drew an imaginary circle around an area of the photograph. She stared. Worry lines on her forehead were amplified by the harsh, artificial light.

There’s something here.

She dropped her hand, turned and focused on a second screen to her right. It was smaller: 24-inch rather than 32-inches of the central monitor. Its image looked identical to the larger one. A top-down view of the same beige and brown landscape. Sand and rock. A few shrubs. A gravel road. A culvert helping a trickle of a stream under the road. About a kilometre square of unforgiving Afghan terrain. 

Sam raised her hand to her mouth and chewed on a knuckle. A bead of sweat formed in a fold in her neck, headed south and found its way under her combat shirt. It stopped where her already damp bra met her skin. She ignored the sensation. She ignored the heat. She ignored the enveloping tiredness of 14-hour days. She ignored the noise from the other operators in the room. The squawk of radios. The distant thump-thump-thump of the medevac Chinook landing.

She was totally focused. A touch of autism, mixed in with some OCD, enabled her to ignore everything but the task. She was an image analyst. No, she was a very good image analyst. Autism gave her an almost savant ability to see detail. And her OCD the doggedness to never give up; to find order when none wanted to be found. 

Her two screens were loaded with the same satellite image. Except they weren’t the same. One set was taken six days ago, at midday – the second from today at 8 am. A section of Route Pelican, a supply route between the FOB and Camp Bastion. Sam’s job was to assess the route. Look for where new engineering works might be needed as the gravel and tarmac had broken away after winter rains and the relentless pounding of Army trucks and escorts. And to find anything else that shouldn’t be there.

The pair of images were taken less than a week apart. The rainy season was over. There had been no military traffic on the route during that time. Nothing should have changed.

And yet …

Hang on.

Sam leant back on her chair so she could take in both screens with the slightest movement of her head. 

Wait.

She leant forward so her face was just a couple of inches from the left-hand screen. She could make out the LED’s pixels. 

Yesterday. Gravel road. Culvert. Trickle of water.

She moved to the right. Again she was close. 

Same road. Same culvert. Same stream. But this time … the stream didn’t enter and exit the culvert like the earlier image. This time there was a buildup of water, a large puddle, on the northern side and no water on the other.

No!

Six things happened at once.

Sam spun on her chair, her concentration on the screens broken. Her pulse rate shot up and the accompanying adrenaline joined the blood pulsating in her ears. Her pupils widened as she took in the view she had experienced day in, day out for over four months. Large tent. No windows. Canvas-facing desks and monitors. Maybe 20 staff. A large map table, with ink-scrawled symbols decorating the glass top. To one side of the map was a two-man trestle table: the boss and his signals operator. Black radio handsets and a green speaker. On the other side of the map table were three whiteboards displaying all manner of information. Above them, hanging from the tent’s metal frame, an analogue clock and a hand-made sign. It read: Think IED!

IED. Improvised Explosive Device. Terrorist made and planted. The scourge of the battalion. They’d lost two men already to Taliban devices. An armoured Foxhound blown over by a roadside bomb, killing the vehicle’s commander who had his head out of the top hatch, his neck snapped in the tumble. A second soldier lost as a remote-controlled RPG penetrated a Mastiff with a thin jet of molten copper, slicing the man in half. A lucky shot, missing the side armour yet finding one of theirs.

One of mine.

The sixth thing Sam did was scream.

‘Boss! Have we got anything on Pelican?’

Captain James looked up and across at her, and then shot a glance at the whiteboards.

‘Hang on. Yes. Three-Zero Charlie. Routine patrol. Three vehicles.’ He glanced back at Sam …

… who was ignoring him. 

She had to find the culvert on the map. Water either side yesterday. None today, but a pool upstream. The culvert was blocked. It was a small thing. Tiny. Could be nothing. 

But it might be …

‘Potential culvert IED. At …’ Sam was on her feet leaning over the map-table. Her eyes and her fingers desperate to find the grid reference of the culvert.

‘… grid, one-two-seven, four-six-six.’

She stared at the Captain, who now had a hold of a handset.

‘Hello, Mike Three-Zero Charlie, this is Zero. Over.’

He looked across at Sam. She was clenching her teeth; her heart bashing strongly against her ribcage.

Are we too late?

Nothing. The whole Ops room had turned, looking in. Their stares focused on the green speaker.

‘Hello, Mike Three-Zero Charlie, this is Zero. Over!’ Louder this time from the Captain. He was almost shouting at the handset, his knuckles white as he pressed the pressel on the handset.

Nothing. 

A crackle. 

Still nothing.

Then, ‘Mike Three-Zero Charlie, Roger. Send, over.’

As relief swept across the room, the Captain replied.

‘Zero. Potential culvert IED at …’, he glanced at his notepad, ‘Grid, one-two-seven, four-six-six, over.’

Nothing. Too long a pause?

‘Mike Three-Zero Charlie, Roger. We’re …’ And then a split second of terrifying noise. A shattering explosion and an accompanying cry. The speaker seemed to momentarily shake. 

Silence.

The captain looked across at Sam. Their eyes met. Hers were already filling with tears.

Oh, God. No …