Friday, October 29, 2021

A short story.

   Lockdown has led to me having much more time on my hands. I still manage to work ... mostly online, but I do not get to go to Auckland. I miss the big smoke, but only for short times. I like the solitude of this small town. I manage to get most of the things I need, down here in  Thames or get them online. I connect with clients isn't too bad via ZOOM, the phone, or other platforms.

    I keep busy. There's my voluntary work, pottery, playing my new Piano (It's electric), and learning new skills that are kind of technical. I have continued to write. A new Ebook It will be published on Amazon Direct Publishing as an Ebook, but be available in print form on demand. Voices in the Mist is a story set in two time periods; 1862 and 2021.

    I am enjoying writing short stories. Some I enter in competitions, just to keep me going. Here is one I did a while ago. I will keep putting them on my blog.

 This one is called CONNECTED



    Some people have a ‘face’ that you never forget. Time does not impinge on your recall, even if a name fails you. There are wrinkles, or age spots and the hair has changed colour … or diminished to the point that a brush is just a habit. Connections are made, across the years, on many levels; forged through childhood fights, games, shared adventures, and tears.

    On a spring day in the main street of Thames, the sun plays games, promising warmth and light one minute, then hiding petulantly behind clouds that belong in a former season. If the wind blows, it drives me inside the café beside the bookshop, which means my ‘forever friend,’ my Jack Russell, Perdy, gets bundled into the car, to observe from the parcel tray at the back. She doesn’t mind, so long as there’s activity on the footpath, two-legged and four … and those in between.

    Sometimes Perdy barks; whether it’s to attract attention, send a warning, or to let me know that she intends to join me on the footpath, once the sun returns. She recognizes people, ones she has sniffed, kissed, jumped on, or sat quietly between my feet as I discuss stuff … from Trump to books, the latter not usually in the same sentence! For a Jack Russell, Perdy exhibits a fair degree of patience. I guess she has become used to my regular visits to the café.

    I love sitting at one of the little round tables, sipping coffee and nibbling the occasional slice or sandwich. I am rarely alone. People notice Perdy. Invariably they want to stroke her, not just the younger ones … some oldies bend, to the point of falling, to greet her, probably remembering the special friend, now residing beyond The Rainbow bridge. I can see it in their eyes.

    People make the mistake of thinking she’s a puppy. Those eyes and her perpetual ‘innocent demeanor,’ invite attention. Conversations flow, connections are made, and children discover a trusting life-form that promises something special. Perdy senses something about some of the younger ones. I’m not sure what it is, but she seems to lean into some but pulls back from others … maybe the ‘insect-squashers’ ... or worse. She KNOWS!

    Connections reach out from ‘before’ … as people stop, look at me, then move off, but glancing back over their shoulders. A week later they may pass again. This time a smile and a quiet ‘hello.’ They move on, one, stopping by the bookshop, sifting through books on display outside by the main door. Some of the books are ‘reduced to sell.’ I wonder when one of mine will appear there … a sure sign that it has been around too long.

    I take notice. Something about her is familiar. The way she walks and holds her head as she sorts through the books, and that glance … furtive, yet searching for the link. I felt it. She hesitated as if she was going to walk over to my table but stopped. I could almost hear her breath out, before returning the book to the pile and slowly walking away.

    The following day, the wind is brutal. Winter is slapping Thames as if to say … ‘I ain’t gone yet.’

There will be no footpath observations today. The door to the café remains stubbornly closed, but the welcome inside is just the same. Warmth permeates the little café, spreading to the bookshop that connects. It’s more than a heat pump. Several people occupy the tables, one reading the local newspaper, another engaged in animated conversation with the owner, and the other … the woman from yesterday. She is sitting by the window, watching paper scuttering along the road. She mumbles, ‘stick it in the bloody bin, you oaths!’

She glances at me as I enter. ‘Oops … not you … I meant … oh bugger. Hey … I know you.’

I sat at the table next to her. ‘Just a coffee and a cookie, mate,’ I say to Rex.

    Rex smiles. ‘No Perdy?’

    ‘She’s in the car. Stuffed if I’m sitting out there … in that.’

    While he’s making my coffee, I think, ‘I know that lady from somewhere. She’s wearing a mixture of styles, spanning the 70’s through to the 2000’s Op-shop, an eclectic almost eccentric look.

    ‘You look familiar, but I can’t quite place you,’ I venture. I didn’t suggest she looked about my age. ‘Did we go to Training College together … back in the early ’70s?’

    ‘What … me a teacher?  Hell … I would have skinned the little buggers. I don’t have that sort of patience with kids.’

    Perdy started barking in the car. Even with the café door shut I could hear her. ‘I better go and check her. I think she may be tangled in her leash.’

    I left as Rex placed my coffee and cookie on the table. ‘Won’t be a second … better check on the boss.’

    I opened the back door of the car. Perdy was straining to leave her prison. She kept looking at the lady. ‘Do you know her, girl? It’s too bloody windy outside. How about I bring her out when I leave, eh?’

    Perdy whined as I returned to the café. My visit was going to be curtailed, the coffee hurried, and the cookie wrapped in the serviette, for later consumption.

    ‘What’s wrong with Perdy?” the lady said.

    ‘You know her? … mind you … half Thames does, given her escapes and adventures on Facebook.’

    ‘I just remembered,’ she said. ‘I know your little one from Onehunga Bay. I used to walk there, a few years ago. You were always with a group of ladies. Sometimes,’ I joined you.’

    ‘Oh … do you live here now? I escaped a couple of years ago. But … this is a bit embarrassing … my memory seems have gone the way of the gold around these parts.’

    ‘She smiled. I’m June. I had a black Labrador. He’s gone now … and yes. I moved here too.’ She took off her beanie. What little hair she had, was flat against her head. “Yeah … the big ‘C.’ I just had the last of the chemo. They reckon they got it.’ She sighed.

    I pictured the walks around the bay … the group of ladies and the crazy dogs. It was quite a gathering. Hell … it had even inspired a book … “TALK TO ME.”

    ‘Yeah … I remember. I miss that place, but I get back there from time to time … not always with Perdy. She knows you. She has a better memory than me.’

   We talked for a few minutes then I returned to the car … with June. She leaned in the back seat and what followed will always stay with me. Perdy kissed her, in that way that repels some, but is endured by others … wet kisses!

    I drove away, promising to meet June for walks at the ‘bay down here,’ at Kurinui.

Connections … are made and remade, over and over again.


Neil Coleman 

Thursday, February 18, 2021

Silly old bugger ... but be kind!

 What a beautiful day. The sky promised adventures: hope, a decent walk, untroubled by rain, enhanced by the hills behind the town. Let's forget the Privet that festoons those sentinels and just head out, accompanied by 'the Perdy,' or is it me who is led by the leash, while she sniffs her way along pathways, a field of browning grass, in the hope of discovering new smells and stories left by other dogs.

Into the car; the red Toyota, and off we go, Perdy up on the back shelf, squeezing her way below the sloping back window. She often looks at me as if to say, "Hey, I know it's flasher but it ain't as comfortable up the back here!"

"Stop bitching, girl ... you've got the whole back seat too, to drop your bloody hair. Are you gonna clean it up? Don't think so."

Of course, she understands. I can tell by the look. We've been partners in crime for nearly seven years of adventures, joyful moments, and yes ... heroic episodes. Don't you all remember her rescuing a lovely lady who had fallen down the bank?

We cruised past the bay. The tide was coming in ... I think ... it's sometimes hard to tell. Do I go by the birds, or ... oh what the hell. It doesn't matter at times like these as I glance at the distant shores across the Firth of Thames. Maybe I'm heading that way later, for coffee with friends ... potty friends, or to be a little more precise ... pottery friends. The traffic is light. So far, there are no fleeing Aucklanders, who tend to flood this coastline, when COVID lockdowns loom! Radio New Zealand will inform us if anything changes.

The main street is busy, but there is a space outside the Bargain shop. I need to purchase a cheap plastic bowl for my chooks ... for their water. The old one appears to have a leak. I can't have my feathery semi-productive egg-laying friends becoming dehydrated. Hell ... those who elude Perdy's 'non-amorous advances' do kind of pay their way. They keep the back lawn short and crap around the fruit trees. That's got to  be positive. I park, in the shade. One must be careful in Summer.  "Behave, Perdy ... I'll only be a moment."

As I cross the road, I spy several brightly coloured plastic bowls. Perfect. The shop owner was putting other merchandise on the footpath. "I greet him and ask, "Do you want me to take those ones or the ones inside?"

He laughs."No ... those are the ones from next door." I had forgotten that the two shops are side-by-side. "Come in and I'll look for some," he says.

I follow him in and he disappears down the back. I seek him out and he is holding a selection of different coloured bowls. Perfect ."I'll take the pink one," I ventured. "The girls will like that. I think they're not particularly gender-specific in their tastes, eh." He smiled, probably wondering what the hell I was talking about. I completed my transaction and headed across the road towards my red Toyota. I jumped in the front seat, after throwing the bowl in the back seat. "Hey, Perdy ... I didn't realize the back windows were tainted. Oh well ... always new things to discover, eh.?"

No answering tail wag or little Perdy acknowledgement. What! No Perdy! She's escaped ... on the main street! HOW? I know I locked the car. Had some vigilante taken it upon themselves to free her from an imagined hot car... one parked in the shade? My heart missed a beat. Calm down or you'll AFIBRULATE! I  noticed the floor mat was askew. Had the 'thief' tried to start the car?

My thoughts were interrupted by an indignant looking older gentleman, who was waving his hands about as he approached my car. Before he could open his mouth I implored, "Someone's stolen my dog."

"I don't know about your dog," he said, reasonably calmly now, " but why are you trying to steal my car?"

I shuddered ... from embarrassment or relief. I'll sort that out later. "Oh my God ... I'm so sorry I said, getting out of HIS red car. "Is this a Toyota? ... oops, a Mazda, Nice car. That's my car there ... with my dog. I think she's thinking I'm going nuts, going by that weird look on her face."

I think he smiled, but he wasn't laughing. I apologized again and fled towards my car, where I made quite a fuss of Perdy, before throwing the chook bowl in the back and carefully backing out. My thoughts were about how my car needed a good cleaning and how stupid I had been. The man's calmness could easily have taken another more difficult turn. 

My sense of relief won through and I headed towards Denby field, to reward Perdy for her tolerance. We completed her circuit, going past the Warehouse and CAB, before stopping at 'Treats,' for one of their excellent coffees. The lovely barista asked if Perdy wanted water. Her kindness contrasted with my stupidity. Hell ... it's barely ten. I wonder what other adventures await me. Please ... let's have a COVID free day, So 'they've landed a vehicle on Mars! Wow.

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

I've been too lazy!

 I admit it. I have had an extended period of 'writer's block.' It may be that the unfinished series 'Sons of Orpheus' got in the way. OK ... my solution is to get that done. Leading up to that I will embark on a 'blog storm,' to get me back into action.

I'm awaiting Rio's completion of the next two covers for the series, a little editing and then they will be on Kindle.

When that is achieved, I shall get on to new projects. It's not like I lack ideas. If anything, it's the opposite ... too many ideas float, invade and give me little rest. I must choose one and get on with it.

I am busier these days with my work; paid and voluntary. COVID-19 has given me more time in some ways. I wish it would go away, but it seems to come in waves.

In the meantime, go to my books (Neil's Books) and download them. Please share my page. I need to get it out there. Feel free to comment. I actually read them!

Just Google the books---speak into your phone; 'Sons of Orpheus, part one by Neil Coleman. Do the same for the other books and they magically appear!


Talk to Me

Sons of Orpheus (part one) The Arrival

On a grey day

 On a grey day

The cars, framed by my window, the only sound, a squishing of water from well-travelled tyres

A dog ... oblivious to the world ... unless sounds intrude, from a realm beyond my hearing

A dog wrapped in blankets, not so keen to leave her cocoon

Maybe a lesson for me on this grey day

Why venture out?

 ... cookies and coffee, or tea from a pot, with English China, a better choice

I wonder where the cars are headed

To town, the shops or further afield, perhaps new adventures or running away

There are stories in those cars, sad, mad ... or joyful

I observe and wonder ... do I join them on their mysterious journies?

Thursday, May 7, 2020

Lock down in Paradise (A very short Short Story)

Lockdown in Paradise (A short, Short Story)

    ‘Hurry up girl … it’s gonna rain and you know what Im like when I get wet!’
    Perdy gave the look, that tolerance mixed with the yeah right look. She scoffed her biscuits, other than a solitary morsel that had hidden under the mat.
    As I opened the back door, she slurped from her bowl, then followed me down the steps, barking at knowledgeable sparrows lined up on the garage roof watching our moves. They were late comers; their mates had already swooped down on the chook feed, claiming the leftovers from their bigger relations. I opened the gate, trying to stop the inevitable clank as it shut behind us. I didn’t want to wake the neighbours.
    A minute later we headed along the road. As usual, I let Perdy decide which way … right or left. She chose by sniffing the air and whatever Jack Russells employ to motivate their steroid boosted energy.
    ‘Looks like it’s Tararu North then.’
    We were not alone. Several couples, all appropriately spaced, ambled towards us. I knew them from previous walks, but this was different. There would be no stopping, chatting, with Perdy sitting patiently at my feet receiving the occasional pat, then sometimes jumping up, seeking a head pat. I shortened her lead and gave the walkers a wide berth. They nodded politely, smiling as we drifted past them.
    ‘Coping OK?’ a tall women inquired.
    ‘Yeah … getting used to it … forget what day it is sometimes, though.’
    ‘We just say … today is today, and we’ll worry about tomorrow if it comes,’ she replied sagely.
    A Tui called to us from a tree behind the wall of the retirement village. Its dulcet tones cut through the morning air.
    ‘She doesn’t care about the virus, eh girl,’ I replied. ‘Let’s hit the beach.’


Friday, March 27, 2020

Days 1 and 2 LOCK-DOWN NZ

Yes, I'm still here. Two days of being self-contained, for the Battle of CORVID-19. Our Prime Minister has ordered a Level 4  response to the CORVID-19, which means most NZers must stay home, only leaving their homes for essential services. That means going to the supermarket for essential supplies, visiting the doctor or Pharmacist and getting gas for the car. We are able to get cash from the ATMs. We can go outside, for walking, but it must be near our homes, and only be with people in our 'Bubbles,' the people who live with us.

For the most part, NZers have responded well. Sure, FB is awash with examples of people who 'just don't get it.' The police are gradually ramping up their response from 'compassionate/educative, to a more 'do it or else' one. They may call on the military if the tiny minority DON'T GET IT!'

I read of the usual reactions, from people who don't see the bigger picture, or simply don't want to; the ones who meet up with their friends, visit family, party up and generally don't give a stuff about the rest of us. That they are putting their loved ones and friends at risk, seems beyond them. Then we have the usual conspiracy nutters, blaming Chemtrails, World Order and various other 'Flat Planet' scenarios.

We are blessed with a Leader, Jacinda Adern, who is addressing us on a daily basis, supported by an excellent team of advisors and scientists who have become respected commentators on what we should do and why. There has been the usual 'pushback' from political aspirants and their supporters but for the main part, even supporters of the previous Government, have graciously or reluctantly gone along with the Government's efforts to protect us, in the name of the greater good.

How have I adapted to the 'new reality?' So far, I'm fine. I quickly decided that apart from the doggie walks, near my home, and urgent medical requirements, I do not leave my house and section. My good friend who lives with me does the shopping. I work a little, from home, using the phone, Skype, Zoom and Messenger. I like this arrangement. Ask me again in four weeks, the earliest we will be able to reduce the Levels. I am preparing myself that it may well be longer if we are not ALL complying.
I have plenty of books to read, and I am preparing the next two parts of my Trilogy, Sons of Orpheus, for release on Amazon as E.books and hard copy.
Please stay well, my friends and readers. WE CAN DO THIS.
,  but it takes all of us.

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

New Zealand declares State of National Emergency (1)

To all my friends in New Zealand and elsewhere:
I was planning to write a blog each day from when we as a nation entered Level 4 of the current crisis. I am starting today because our Prime Minister Jacinda Adern has just announced that we have entered a 'State of National Emergency.'

We must do this if we are to save lives, as Covid-19 increases its ugly presence. In a way, being well away from the rest of the world may have given us a 'window of opportunity' to avoid the terrible patterns that have become apparent elsewhere. The response to the virus has been ramped up; possibly draconian measure that other nations take well before NZ, can be used if necessary. NZers do not take kindly to the State imposing such measure, but in general, the vast majority of us understand that we are in uncharted territory.

Just over one hundred years ago, the world faced a similar foe, as the Spanish Flu swept across borders and oceans, killing more than the war that had just finished. With modern travel methods, this virus has spread much more quickly, endangering far more people, given that the population is so much bigger.

We are yet to learn of the spread in many countries. Governments have been remiss in releasing information about the true extent of the reach of the virus. In the coming days, we are going to hear of many more deaths. So far NZ has not recorded any deaths, but we expect to witness this in the coming days. Therefore our government is implementing new measures to protect us. We must stop the spread. People MUST stay home, other than those in 'essential services.' Visiting friends and family must stop. Schools are closed and only a few designated businesses are open, to supply food and medical resources.

We have the prospect of at least four weeks of isolating ourselves, keeping away from people other than those in our 'bubbles' ... those who live in our households. This is going to be challenging for us, especially if you live in a full-household, or overcrowded. Call for help, reach out and do not remain socially isolated. A voice is at the other end of a line, or screen. We can talk over the fence, across the street.
Kia kaha. We can and must do this. We are strong, whilst we shed our tears for those who have died, overseas. This who we are ... a resilient nation that is facing its biggest threat in over one hundred years. To the rest of the world, we send our love.

I shall write every day until we emerge from this dark cloud ...  into the light.