Randall’s Ramblings, April 7, 2024

It’s been a week of typical Spring weather: rain, strong wind, and even a few outbreaks of sunshine. Yesterday, the temperature topped out at 63F (17C), but it’ll be a bit cooler today with continue wind gusts up to forty miles per hour. At least right now, there’s plenty of sunshine.

The price of gasoline (petrol) increased this week by two pence to £1.44 as when we left at a £1.42 liter, while diesel added a penny to £1.53. As a result, and with the current exchange rate between the pound and the dollar, an equivalent U.S. gallon of gasoline is now $6.88, an increase of eleven cents, while diesel topped out at $7.29, climbing another three cents.

“The writer is an explorer. Every step is an advance into a new land.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson. Compliments of https://press.barnesandnoble.com/bnpress-blog/inspirational-quotes-writing/.

So who was born on this date in history? Let’s find out who in the writing world was born on April 7th, the first Sunday of the month. (Compliments of https://www.onthisday.com/birthdays/).

Jose de Anchieta, Spanish saint, Jesuit, poet and missionary to Brazil (founder of São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro); John Sheffield, 1st Duke of Buckingham and Normanby, English statesman and poet; William Wordsworth, English poet laureate (The Prelude); Flora Tristan, French writer and social activist; Anderson Abbott, Canadian physician and writer (first Canadian-born black doctor); J. P. [Jens Peter] Jacobsen, Danish writer (Niels Lyhne); Gustav Landauer, German socialist and writer (advocated for social anarchism); William Monroe Trotter, American newspaper editor and activist for African-Americans’ civil rights; Jozef C Bittremieux, Belgian theologist (Virgin & Mother of God); Charles Dodd, Welsh theologian (expert on the New Testament); Gabriela Mistral, Chilean poet (Nobel Prize for Literature, 1945), educator and diplomat; Marjory Stoneman Douglas, American journalist, conservationist (1st Lady of the Everglades) and women’s suffrage advocate; Victoria Ocampo, Argentine writer and publisher (Sur magazine); Gerald Brenan, English writer (The Spanish Labyrinth); Walter Winchell, American journalist, gossip columnist, radio host, and narrator (the Untouchables); Robert Charroux, French writer; Henry Kuttner, American sci-fi author (Dark World, As You Were); (Johannes Mario) J.M. Simmel, Austrian writer (It Can’t Always Be Caviar); James White, UK, sci-fi author (Star Surgeon, Star Healer); Donald Barthelme, American writer (Snow White, Sadness); and MacKenzie Scott, American novelist and philanthropist.

Any names familiar to you? There two for me this week: William Wordworth and MacKenzie Scott. Whether you recognize anyone on the list or not, if today’s your special day I hope you have a great one!

My Work In Progress

As I previously mentioned, I penned chapters 22-30 of Mission: Yemen, Xavier Sear Thriller Book 2 during the Xmas market. I’m still taking care of non-writing things that needed attention after our vacation, and I have to finish a few paragraphs of chapter thirty before I’m ready to post it to the two online subscription writing sites I use.

Reviewers provided another two critiques, bringing the total to 544. As always, they’ve provided plenty of recommendations for me to consider, and I’m always appreciative of the time and effort people put into reviewing my work.

Here’s another snippet:

Dabir stood behind the check-in desk, rearranging items along the counter as he dusted. He reached underneath and pulled out a small, black box.

Inside, he located the Ruger LCP Max Vincent gave him the last time he was in the city. Designed for 380 auto caliber, it felt snug in Dabir’s hand. Will I be able to use it? I have never killed anyone before. He placed the pistol back in the box and shoved it to the rear of the shelf.

“Salam alaikum.”

Dabir jumped at a man’s voice. He glanced up and relaxed. “Wa alaykum as-salam, Badr. You startled me.”

Badr Habra al-Houthi grinned. “Yes. I noticed you were reoccupied. Is something the matter?”

“No, no. Why do you ask?” Dabir wiped the beading perspiration from his forehead with the back of his sleeve.

“You are sweating. Are you not well?”

“I-I am fine.”

“Hmm.” Badr studied Dabir’s face. “Okay. I shall take you at your word.” He turned and whistled.

Three men, all dressed in beige thobes and white turbans, appeared through an archway. Each man carried an AK-47, with a jambiya shoved into a wide ornate belt. The daggers were protected inside sheaths of exquisite carving, gems, precious metals, and ornamentation.

Badr gestured toward his colleagues. “We shall have qishr along with a plate of dates. Will you join us in the dining room? We have an important matter to discuss.

As if I have a choice. “Of course, Badr. I shall join you in a few minutes.”

Badr clapped his hands—once. “Excellent.” He turned and headed toward the dining room, the other men following.

Ten minutes later, Dabir pushed a laden trolley into the dining room, stopping at the table where the four men sat. He placed cups of qishr in front of them, along with two plates of dates and a serving dish holding sambusas, triangular pastries stuffed with potato, onion, parsley, and spices.

After passing cloth napkins to his guests, Dabir took the remaining seat, putting a glass of naqe’e al zabib in front of him. He took a sip of the raisin drink as he waited for Badr to speak.

Badr picked up a sambusa and bit into the snack. “Hmm. I love these.” He wiped his right hand on a napkin and then cleansed his face. “So, Dabir. Things are moving forward. Ansar Allah requires your assistance. We need somewhere to hide at least ten men who are coming from the north to create further attacks in the city.”

Dabir nodded but remained silent.

“We know you do not have many paying guests staying in the hotel, so—”

“The rooms are already spoken for, Badr.”

He grinned. “Ah, yes. By a foreign devil who does not care what happens in our country. The new men will take rooms, and since you have already been paid, you will not receive extra funding.”

“But ….”

Badr raised a hand. “This will be your gift to support our movement. Or, are you having second thoughts about where your loyalties should be?”

“No, Badr.” Dabir closed his eyes. What more trouble will I be in?

More next time.

This brings us to an end for another week. I hope you found something of interest. If you have any suggestions for a topic you’d like to read about, please let me know. Until the next time, thank you for reading and hope you drop in again.

© Copyright 2024 Randall Krzak. All rights reserved