tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43475239946329377802024-03-13T22:05:50.613-07:00Neil Coleman | Author of Roskill and Talk to MeMy blog is experimental, covering a range of topics, including publicising my books, to commenting on 'issues of the day', recipes, cafe reviews and even excerpts from my books. I want to have fun and I am happy to receive feedback.www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.comBlogger2549125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-74072172738974016192021-10-29T17:07:00.000-07:002021-10-29T19:09:39.542-07:00 A short story.<p> 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.</p><p> 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.</p><p> 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.</p><p> This one is called CONNECTED</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Connected.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The following day, the wind is brutal.
Winter is slapping Thames as if to say … ‘I ain’t gone yet.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">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!’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She glances
at me as I enter. ‘Oops … not you … I meant … oh bugger. Hey … I know you.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I sat at the
table next to her. ‘Just a coffee and a cookie, mate,’ I say to Rex.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Rex smiles. ‘No Perdy?’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘She’s in the car. Stuffed if I’m sitting
out there … in that.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘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?’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘What … me a teacher? Hell … I would have skinned the little
buggers. I don’t have that sort of patience with kids.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I left as Rex placed my coffee and cookie
on the table. ‘Won’t be a second … better check on the boss.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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?’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘What’s wrong with Perdy?” the lady said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘You know her? … mind you … half Thames
does, given her escapes and adventures on Facebook.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘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.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘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.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘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.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> ‘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.’<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> 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!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> I drove away, promising to meet June for
walks at the ‘bay down here,’ at Kurinui.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Connections
… are made and remade, over and over again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Neil Coleman <o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p>www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-26797810788188668562021-02-18T15:09:00.001-08:002021-02-25T12:12:21.649-08:00Silly old bugger ... but be kind!<p> 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.</p><p>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!"</p><p>"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."</p><p>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?</p><p>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.</p><p>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."</p><p>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?"</p><p>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.</p><p>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.?"</p><p>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?</p><p>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."</p><p>"I don't know about your dog," he said, reasonably calmly now, " but why are you trying to steal my car?"</p><p>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."</p><p>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. </p><p>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.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-75767646848293525822020-08-18T17:26:00.000-07:002020-08-18T17:26:03.403-07:00I've been too lazy!<p> 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.</p><p>I'm awaiting Rio's completion of the next two covers for the series, a little editing and then they will be on Kindle.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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!</p><p>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!</p><p>ROSKILL</p><p>Talk to Me</p><p>Sons of Orpheus (part one) The Arrival</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bWKoDZP7Xe60wu3etRLBnv39SZZzAUVtEOcuUfA07uLEXaAHNTwknTxtPkUtzckaW2UzBb57lSXKDH9U_oV1wPBb5_ILVykcuq02074bwRcqL9JMy7gcXkjtE7rT9voQc8Kj7nBT4MvF/s1004/download_20190930_115108.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="1004" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3bWKoDZP7Xe60wu3etRLBnv39SZZzAUVtEOcuUfA07uLEXaAHNTwknTxtPkUtzckaW2UzBb57lSXKDH9U_oV1wPBb5_ILVykcuq02074bwRcqL9JMy7gcXkjtE7rT9voQc8Kj7nBT4MvF/w400-h236/download_20190930_115108.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMS-hMGG7uRnVoez3gfEx4zx0SrRE9WjamwYH7dbgXSfnUcUHTekF1_Hk3EziFLOk2y4M1yhoGyoX3KQbOEF1oHmm86RhgMKK2cwl7SXMW-IreQgQfx_46nWl11Z1ve0p5xjpvcdjkAqmU/s2250/download_20191125_185023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="1410" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMS-hMGG7uRnVoez3gfEx4zx0SrRE9WjamwYH7dbgXSfnUcUHTekF1_Hk3EziFLOk2y4M1yhoGyoX3KQbOEF1oHmm86RhgMKK2cwl7SXMW-IreQgQfx_46nWl11Z1ve0p5xjpvcdjkAqmU/s640/download_20191125_185023.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XIDLDm-mBULbqwZwhChrTZfdyiM40ODoYiYktropNFAfobCCVZa8Xm-4jXr4IEDonCQpjFaewt8rP4k2OgimmoxSFH4TNgUf9DKKhvDJO8Fko-YzmTmsYUc_BKyXBJs2akk0NevWMp9y/s320/Roskill_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="209" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XIDLDm-mBULbqwZwhChrTZfdyiM40ODoYiYktropNFAfobCCVZa8Xm-4jXr4IEDonCQpjFaewt8rP4k2OgimmoxSFH4TNgUf9DKKhvDJO8Fko-YzmTmsYUc_BKyXBJs2akk0NevWMp9y/w418-h640/Roskill_cover.jpg" width="418" /></a></div><p></p>www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-60871490521131648462020-08-18T16:07:00.001-07:002020-08-18T16:07:57.199-07:00On a grey day<p> On a grey day</p><p>The cars, framed by my window, the only sound, a squishing of water from well-travelled tyres</p><p>A dog ... oblivious to the world ... unless sounds intrude, from a realm beyond my hearing</p><p>A dog wrapped in blankets, not so keen to leave her cocoon</p><p>Maybe a lesson for me on this grey day</p><p>Why venture out?</p><p> ... cookies and coffee, or tea from a pot, with English China, a better choice</p><p>I wonder where the cars are headed</p><p>To town, the shops or further afield, perhaps new adventures or running away</p><p>There are stories in those cars, sad, mad ... or joyful</p><p>I observe and wonder ... do I join them on their mysterious journies?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9xnhxgliIhVRFf7Zn7I59fU6rWnnybb8iqfgJAgV8nuQmhMrivCNUoZh_E3HKhW9QtAaHx4ipUDbZOsrmrLUDGia5OFnAsMpzz54wGgtt1QCxbteVh4ZERISxEskpDOhVL22OIhWraWC/s4160/IMG_20200819_103618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9xnhxgliIhVRFf7Zn7I59fU6rWnnybb8iqfgJAgV8nuQmhMrivCNUoZh_E3HKhW9QtAaHx4ipUDbZOsrmrLUDGia5OFnAsMpzz54wGgtt1QCxbteVh4ZERISxEskpDOhVL22OIhWraWC/s640/IMG_20200819_103618.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-3610736416880040172020-05-07T18:50:00.002-07:002020-05-07T18:52:20.219-07:00Lock down in Paradise (A very short Short Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;">Lockdown in Paradise (A short, Short Story)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> ‘Hurry
up girl … it’s gonna rain and you know what Im like when I get wet!’<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> 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. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> ‘Looks
like it’s Tararu North then.’<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> 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.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> ‘Coping
OK?’ a tall women inquired. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> ‘Yeah …
getting used to it … forget what day it is sometimes, though.’<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> ‘We
just say … today is today, and we’ll worry about tomorrow if it comes,’ she
replied sagely. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> A Tui
called to us from a tree behind the wall of the retirement village. Its dulcet
tones cut through the morning air.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> ‘She
doesn’t care about the virus, eh girl,’ I replied. ‘Let’s hit the beach.’<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"> <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<b><span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><br /></span></b>
</div>
</div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-58231860901243928802020-03-27T15:14:00.002-07:002020-03-27T15:14:53.880-07:00Days 1 and 2 LOCK-DOWN NZ<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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.<br />
<br />
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!'<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
Please stay well, my friends and readers. WE CAN DO THIS.<br />
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, but it takes all of us.</div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-19660155907440257502020-03-24T18:46:00.000-07:002020-03-24T18:46:08.646-07:00New Zealand declares State of National Emergency (1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
To all my friends in New Zealand and elsewhere:<br />
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.'<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I shall write every day until we emerge from this dark cloud ... into the light.</div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-8664639619527850952020-03-16T01:27:00.001-07:002020-03-16T01:27:18.621-07:00Hello Hong Kong..you are reading my blogs ... try my books<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Kia ora, Hong Kong. This is just for you. I see you are reading my blogs; indeed you seem to be doing so more than most other countries lately. Take another step and check out my books. You can find them on Amazon Kindle, or via my webpage. Check out<br />
<b> Roskill</b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b> Talk to Me</b><br />
<b> </b><br />
<b> Sons of Orpheus, Book 1 ... The Arrival</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
You can either download them on your device. My website (www.authorneilcoleman.com) has a free Kindle App, or order a hard copy. Alternatively, you can just Google any of my books .... for example, 'Roskill by Neil Coleman on Amazon and the links will come up. I'd love some feedback. Happy reading, friends and followers.<br />
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<br />
<b> </b></div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-81047027162403954032020-03-15T21:44:00.000-07:002020-03-15T21:44:10.021-07:00Bloody technical shite!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yeah ... sometimes I am challenged by technical or mechanical stuff. When the genes were being sorted for my arrival, the 'Great Decider' must have been a bit miffed. Maybe She decided that my branch of the Colemans had already been assigned a 'fair' portion and that cuts had to be made, or anyone coming after me would have been almost functionally unable to open a marmite jar!<br />
<br />
So ... I received what I guess can only be described as 'enough of the practical stuff,' that if applied at a basic level, could lead to ... not too many disasters. Well ... there have been heaps, but I still have two arms, legs and most of my bodily functions. I've managed to get to almost 70 years without needing an ambulance for accidents. I may have inadvertently caused a few laughs at my expense, but hey ... some people need to laugh at others. It makes them feel better about themselves. I have never been so offended by a friend taking the piss out of me when I have been on the end of smart-arsed remarks about my mechanical and technical skills, that I have needed to employ a hit-man or woman to exact revenge.<br />
<br />
I am glad that no one witnessed today's little effort. Mind you ... I am unselfishly sharing the 'event' now ... just to make you all feel superior. I know it feels a bit 'Jonesy,' ... you know ... the 'Shane guy!'<br />
But ... I'm feeling magnanimous ... kind of. Here goes.<br />
<br />
Some of you may know that my beautiful little five-year-old Hyundai I.20 (I've had it from birth ... its birth!) has been a bit naughty. Long story, but in short ... the ABS system broke down, badly, necessitating a rather expensive fix, the latest, 10 days since the breakdown, and its bits and pieces being freighted to the South bloody Island. The garage is great. They have lent me a courtesy car for the duration.<br />
<br />
I have been driving that around, with all of the little differences, not being too challenging, but sometimes I have to drive my mate's car. So, in the space of two weeks, I have driven three cars. OK ... many of you would not find that an issue, but others have difficulty driving ONE car. I'm somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. Today my gene allocation was tested.<br />
<br />
I had to pick up my mate from his work but his car was in front of my courtesy car. Bugger ... I grabbed the key and locked the Perdy inside (Anyone not knowing the Perdy should probably;ly stop reading, because she's an essential part of my life, in so many ways.) I wasn't in a particular hurry and the Thames version of a rush-hour is kind of cute. With Perdy's barking ringing in my ears, I headed towards the little Toyota Ist. I pushed the key into the lock. It almost jammed, before realizing that I needed to engage the button to unlock it. Buggered if I could make it work. Had I stuffed it by attempting brute force. It wouldn't be the first time I had acted in a macho manner ... and miserably failed!<br />
<br />
I kept trying, gently caressing the key in an attempt to employ the 'electronic' of the little key. Hey ... it had a picture of an open lock, so wouldn't anyone push that to unlock it?! STFU! Stop laughing!<br />
I rang my mate and said that my sister was on the way to pick him up. I thought I would ring the AA to come and let me into the car. It would be nice to have everything working, with NO DAMAGE, by the time Rio got home.<br />
<br />
I tried once more. Then it hit me! The key was labelled Nissan. Wrong fecking key. Do I need to continue?! I think Perdy knew that I was being a feckwit when I grabbed the correct key, and everything returned to normal. Rio said ... nothing. The look did though,</div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-38915664979034673072020-02-20T20:06:00.000-08:002020-02-20T20:06:06.455-08:00Sons of Orpheus News!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yes ... all three books will be on Amazon Kindle, along with print versions. I am in the process of preparing Books Two and Three. Both books have been written and just need a little editing. The covers are being prepared, then we will launch Book Two (Title to be decided)</div>
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Our heroes become more involved in the new business, relationships become more intense and take a surprising, unexpected turn. Tensions build and events in New Plymouth influence the dramatic build-up to the final book.</div>
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Make sure you download (or order, very soon, a print copy) of Sons of Orpheus, Book ! ... The Arrival.</div>
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Just Google Sons of Orpuesu by Neil Coleman on KIndle and the link will take you directly to the Amazon site and the free App will be available for you to read my books (including Roskill and Talk To Me)</div>
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<br />
Other books By Neil Coleman: ROSKILL<br />
TALK TO ME<br />
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-53272483525302785442020-01-11T16:37:00.001-08:002020-01-13T12:36:39.400-08:00Perdy goes AWOL and finds a shag!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Perdy, my adventurous Jack Russell, loves her freedom, her off-leash times, and to be able to follow her nose. I love watching her explore, hunt, cavort with other dogs and generally enjoy her times at her favourite places. Sometimes, she takes full advantage of not being tied to me, by going the extra mile ... well, in this case, discovering another hole in the fence.<br />
<br />
Sunday morning at the dog park: OK ... it's not officially one, in a sense that it is 'contained,' but it meets most of the requirements for what I consider to be a park for doggies. Perdy gets to run, play and follow her nose. Today, Perdy stretched the definition of the above. We entered the park behind the dump and I released her, well past the hole in the fence that I have stuck in some wood and logs to fill her escape route to 'rat heaven!' Talk about releasing the Kraken!<br />
<br />
Perdy immediately headed for the fence line, albeit in a slightly different place from her other epic adventure. She disappeared into the bushes and scrub that line the border with the municipal dump, but this time she didn't make her presence beyond the fence known, unlike her previous manic escape. She lived her adventure in a quiet fashion, giving no clues as to her whereabouts on the 'other side of the fence.'<br />
<br />
I took a more relaxed stance. I did not ring my partner. I decided to sit it out, waiting by the seat, hoping that she would return. The minutes ticked by, punctuated by my calls, 'Perdy ... come, girl,' disguising my illusionary confidence that she would return ... soon,' and that somehow, I was in control of my rambunctious-perpetual-puppy. I was about to 'make the phone call,' eliciting support but really hoping to spread the anxiety. I waited a few moments, and then ... she appeared, quite calmly. Had she actually gone through the fence or was she chasing vermin in the bushes? Either way, we continued our sojourn in the park, heading to the green wilderness, where she likes to 'play the dolphin game,' jumping and forging her way through the ocean of grass.<br />
<br />
I was quite at peace with the world. I filmed her, jumping and dancing, her senses fully engaged in her quest for whatever the hell she knows to be there. Then she stopped on the edge of the bank that borders the park, on the sea-side. She was transfixed by something on the rock-strewn beach. I KNOW that look. It precedes a change in direction, usually one that ends in a drama of sorts. Her tail wagged, in that Jack Russell signal ... she was ramping up the game!<br />
<br />
Perdy disappeared down the bank. I moved to the edge. Perdy was frozen, like a statue. A Shag, quite young, was standing on a boulder, one that was artistically decorated with guano. Perdy was transfixed, quiet at first, and then she began that infuriating barking, willing the shag to respond. I looked around, hoping like hell that no one was watching. I did not need a caring bird-lover to inform me of my lack of control, that only a Jack Russell daddy or mum would understand, does not signify that we are bad parents!<br />
<br />
Perdy's barking increased in intensity. The shag simply acted like he or she was ignoring the hairy Kraken. I wondered if the bird was sick. A lady and her dog were starting to become interested in the events on the beach. They approached. She quickly realized that the scenario was likely to engulf her and her dog, and she led her fur-baby away, on-leash, whilst informing me of a pathway, of kinds, where I could descend, and thus remedy the situation that was rapidly approaching ... meltdown.<br />
<br />
I scrambled down the bank, hoping I would not end up the victim, unceremoniously splattered like guano on the rocks. I made it safely to the beach, where the two were at a stand-off. Perdy barking and making threatening advances, each time closing in on her 'prey,' while I prayed that I could avoid a feathery funeral. I had to get the shag to move, fly away ... to get the heck out of there. Thoughts of some chooky friends at my house who had since departed, with the help of Perdy, filled my thoughts. Please move little shag!<br />
<br />
I approached, not so much cautiously, ... I WANTED the shag to depart ...immediately. "Shoo little shag ... begone,' I pleaded. My actual words contained a few expletives.<br />
The shag must have understood ... finally. With a flap of its wings, it lept into the sea, not flying, but swimming ... away from the Kraken. Perdy was furious. She followed and they started heading towards Miranda, about 10 kilometres on the other side of the Firth of Thames!<br />
<br />
Oh-My-God. 'Perdy ...Come back I yelled,' as she paddled out to sea. Thoughts of sharks, her drowning, me following and drowning ... it is true that at moments like these, your thoughts race along multiple pathways, most of them irrational. I was immersed in indecision. The lady was long gone. I could not see anyone, because the back screened me from the sight of people in the park. I WAS ALONE.<br />
<br />
I continued to yell at Perdy. By now she was at least fifty metres out to sea. She stopped, looked back at me, then continued after the shag, then stopped again, looking a bit undecided. She swam in small circles, the shag calmly swimming further out. Finally, Perdy started swimming back towards me. I held my breath, my lips massaged by 'Mr Worry.' She turned again, trying to see where the shag had gone. It was about a hundred metres away. Maybe she couldn't see it, because it dived from time to time, emerging in a different place, possibly confusing Perdyy as to its whereabouts.<br />
<br />
Perdy gave up and continued to paddle her way to shore ... to ME, where she clambered over the rocks, shook herself off and meekly let me attach her leash. Her look said it all. 'I'm back Daddy ... it was soooo much fun."<br />
<br />
Yeah right, girl!<br />
<br />
PS. I came upon the lady who had witnessed the start of the 'event.' We talked and I learned that she too was an author. We had a most useful discussion about 'publishing books,' and I exchanged numbers and saved a contact. I thank her for encouraging me to follow through and send the script for <b>Sons of Orpheus </b>to a publishing company in the UK that is asking for submissions.<br />
In the meantime, my book(s) can be downloaded from Amazon books, Just Google 'Sons of Orpheus, Book 1, The Arrival, by Neil Coleman, on Kindle,' and you can follow the links with a click. If you don't have a Kindle, you can get a free APP (Play Store for Android, APP Store on Apple devices.) Download the APP and read my books.</div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-2516209485441182872020-01-09T18:25:00.002-08:002020-01-09T18:25:40.866-08:00Australian fires are not so far away from New Zealand.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For thousands of years, 'fire' has been a 'constant' in The Land Down Under. Fire is part of that which makes up this 'Lucky Land.' Indeed, fire is necessary for the propagation of some trees and plants. But while nature ruled, there was a balance. The original people, the many different tribes that make up the Aboriginal population, knew how to live with the ever-present threat.<br />
<br />
When Europeans arrived they spread across the continent, seeking and taking land, bringing their animals and displacing in many instances, those that were already present. However, it would be accurate to claim that the vast number of the new human arrivals, to this day, have clung to the 'edges.' Most Australians live in four big cities or within two hundred kilometres of them. Others live in the bush and it is in that 'bush' that living with the threat of fire is never far away, especially in the increasingly longer periods of 'hot and dry,' with the wind bringing about even more danger as it 'fans the furnace.'<br />
<br />
Every year, we read about or witness on the News and Social Media, the damage done by fire; destroying pasture, bush and homes, taking lives, human and animals (Possibly a billion animals in the latest catastrophe) and damaging economic activity. In the most recent disaster, vast clouds of smoke from the fires have blotted out the sun, then carried across the Tasman Ocean to New Zealand, causing 'over-worldly' cloud-scapes, an eerily orange sky ... so much so that misinformed observers, panicked to the point that they dialled 111 (NZ's emergency number). Lights had to be switched on at 3pm ... in the middle of summer.<br />
<br />
Historically, fire has always been a threat in urban areas of both countries, with wooden buildings being the predominant, and not just in summer. Careless use of candles, cooking methods and possibly drunken reactions contributed to the many fires, sometimes alerting the towns and cities.<br />
<br />
While I was researching background material for my latest book, <b>Sons of Orpheus, Book 1 ... The Arrival, </b>I discovered that fire often visited Sydney and threatened the Rocks area. Luck played a part in that we still have this historic area today. Fire-fighting methodology was not the sophisticated, instant response we see today, be it rural or urban in nature. Parts of Auckland were also ravaged by fire.<br />
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My book has a very descriptive section, in which 'fire' brings characters together and forges relationships, adding storylines that last throughout the epic series that is the <b>Sons of Orpheus, The Trilogy.</b><br />
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-75619095551266538392020-01-07T15:57:00.001-08:002020-01-07T15:57:30.142-08:00Ireland to England and beyond ... a story that is still ...resounding.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
An Irish lad seeks new horizons, His sense of adventure is enhanced by an impossible 'present.'<br />
Jack, a young man struggling with his identity, his emerging 'manhood,' and a desire to find a better life.<br />
Join him on his adventures, sometimes heart-rending, funny the next and outright dangerous at times as he takes a huge leap of faith to reach across the globe.<br />
Sons of Orpheus is a story based on fact, several ships, one naval and a tool of the expanding British Empire, and the other ... commercial in nature.<br />
New Zealand in the 1860s ... a struggle between two peoples, one trying to keep its sacred land, the other ... desiring land for settlers, which it had signed a Treaty that was supposed to protect <i>Taonga, forests and lands from being taken.</i> New Zealand was at the crossroads of history.<br />
What part would Jack play?<br />
<b>Sons of Orpheus (Book 1 ... The Arrival, by Neil Coleman)</b> is available on Amazon Kindle or any device (APP store for Apple and Play Store for Android) with the free Kindle App. Install the free APP and search for the book.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-XIa6tWKiOZ__kY6Qs5ZAr4kKx_6FXh1lKEy8iiOkVNxizPnX2osmBcDiKV9czKa7i0qf3g5U51IrUMj9hFSocbzex4OIfQ8VhoG5NnIqZqhZ7tTz6SBjpNuC2TxL8mbVhzAfV_LJxJ_/s1600/download_20191125_185023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1003" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-XIa6tWKiOZ__kY6Qs5ZAr4kKx_6FXh1lKEy8iiOkVNxizPnX2osmBcDiKV9czKa7i0qf3g5U51IrUMj9hFSocbzex4OIfQ8VhoG5NnIqZqhZ7tTz6SBjpNuC2TxL8mbVhzAfV_LJxJ_/s320/download_20191125_185023.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-26859316943755196402020-01-01T12:55:00.000-08:002020-01-01T12:55:41.042-08:00Australia ... the link to Sons of Orpheus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Old Sydney town has a special link to the underlying story in <b>Sons of Orpheus (Book 1..The Arrival)</b> Sydney play a crucial part in the plot as the characters are drawn to the city, particularly The Rocks area. Lieutenant Alex Coleman is an officer on the State of the art Corvette, Orpheus, as she is prepared to sail to the young colony of New Zealand where an emerging struggle for land is underway.<br />
Fire too is a feature as it wreaks havoc on the old wooden buildings. Fire changes peoples' lives, in history and the present. The links between New and Australia go back many years,<br />
<b>Sons of Orpheus</b> is an epic trilogy, bringing to life difficult struggle that was ...Australia and New Zealand. Fiction it may be, but the historical events were real.<br />
Download the book (part 1] Go to Amazon Bookstore and search in the ebook section. <b>Sons of Orpheus (Book 1 ... The Arrival) by Neil Coleman</b><br />
If you don't have a Kindle, that's OK ... just go to App Store (Apple device) or Paly Store for Android for your free App. Don't forget to register. While you are there, Download my other two books: <b>Roskill </b>and <b>Talk to Me </b>( a finalist in the Ngaio Marsh Crime Writers Awards.)<br />
Feel free to contact me on neilcolemanauthor@gmail.com<br />
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-67386287316257282752019-12-26T13:50:00.000-08:002019-12-26T13:50:00.609-08:00China... you can read my books!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
No Google in China, unless you use the 'back door!' No FaceBook? I know you read my blogs, or someone doing something 'else' is. If you can read my blogs, you can probably read my three books: Talk To Me, Roskill and Sons of Orpheus. Can you use KINDLE? Let me know. You can download all three, or use a free App from the APP Store or Play Store. I'm sure you know what to do.<br />
If you haven't figured out how to access my webpage, then here it is<br />
(www.authorneilcoleman.com)<br />
If you like stories about New Zealand, go and read my books.<br />
Please let me know if you succeed. Hell ... my stories are hardly controversial. Maybe Roskill is a bit 'dark' though.<br />
Cheers<br />
Neil</div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-14436143525504033982019-12-26T11:52:00.002-08:002019-12-26T11:52:38.675-08:00New Year at the beach. Take a book ... on Kindle and other 'devices.'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A Southern Hemisphere Summer is something very special. In New Zealand, picture a beautiful Pohutukawa tree, festooned in gaudy red flowers, that drop to form a carpet of crimson. Australia's beaches are different, spectacular; their colourful sands, kissed by warmer waters. Both lend themselves to deckchairs in the shade, where one can escape the real world, with a book or a Kindle.<br />
<br />
In the Northern Hemisphere, Christmas is a time for snuggling up in front of the fire, in a comfortable recliner, once again, with your book. Check out my three books on Kindle or other devices.<br />
<b>ROSKILL</b><br />
<b>TALK TO ME</b><br />
<b>SONS OF ORPHEUS (Book One - The Arrival)</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
You haven't got a Kindle. No worries. Check out how to download a free APP .<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span lang="EN-GB">Download
and install Amazon Kindle to your mobile devices (phones or tablets). It's
free to download.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Android : <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Play Store</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Apple : <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">App Store</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<ol start="2" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span lang="EN-GB">Once the
app is installed, you will be required to register an Amazon account (if
you aren't already) by filling in your full name, email address, setting
up a password and credit card details.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Note : you can use
this account to sign in to Amazon.com if you would like to purchase other
items.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<ol start="3" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span lang="EN-GB">On search
bar (located on the top of the "<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Home</b>"
tab), type <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sons of Orpheus</b>, it
should bring up all the search results from Kindle.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Thank you for your
support.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Neil Coleman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">www.authorneilcoleman.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-69397304736962569062019-12-24T16:00:00.001-08:002019-12-24T16:00:36.436-08:00What are you going to read this Christmas?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Do you want a bit of variety? How about downloading all three of my books: <br />
<b>ROSKILL</b><br />
<b>TALK TO ME</b><br />
<b>SONS OF ORPHEUS ( bOOK 1 - THE ARRIVAL)</b><br />
But you don't have a Kindle. Sure, it's easy if you do. Go to Bookstore and search and download.<br />
You could also Google 'Roskill, by Neil Coleman om Kindle.' Do the same for the other books and you will go to the link.<br />
Still not quite there? Follow these steps:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span lang="EN-GB">Download
and install Amazon Kindle to your mobile devices (phones or tablets). It's
free to download.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Android : <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Play Store</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Apple : <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">App Store</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<ol start="2" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span lang="EN-GB">Once the
app is installed, you will be required to register an Amazon account (if
you aren't already) by filling in your full name, email address, setting
up a password and credit card details.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Note : you can use
this account to sign in to Amazon.com if you would like to purchase other
items.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<ol start="3" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;"><span lang="EN-GB">On search
bar (located on the top of the "<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Home</b>"
tab), type <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sons of Orpheus</b>, it
should bring up all the search results from Kindle.<o:p></o:p></span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Thank you for your
support.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Neil Coleman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB">www.authorneilcoleman.com<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-83499423201106214682019-12-21T13:59:00.001-08:002019-12-21T13:59:53.892-08:00One upon a ten years ago ... I had a dream!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It is not uncommon to 'live' a special moment. I have had quite a few in my near 'average length' life.<br />
However, the one I am about to describe could be a pivotal one for me. No ... I am not talking about the 'Coastal Dream,' that came to me many times; the one about the Thames Coast, with its pebble and rock-strewn beaches; the one that ultimately called to me, to come and live in this beautiful part of New Zealand. Yes, I arrived at the Thames Coast about three and a half years ago. I enjoy a lifestyle that was meant to be retirement. Of course ... it is a very busy one.<br />
<br />
The 'other dream-like moment I alluded to earlier, propelled me to a very different journey. I had gone for a drive to the top of the Awhitu Peninsula, a windswept area, facing the prevailing westerlies that sweep across the Manukau Heads, very close to Auckland City. In the early European history of Auckland, the Heads were the entry to a busy port in Onehunga. Maori had a much longer connection to this special place, seeing the Harbour beyond the heads in a far more spiritual manner.<br />
<br />
I stood on the area near the present-day lighthouse, a reconstruction of the original, and looked out to sea, watching the huge breakers as they relentlessly roiled and broke over the treacherous bar at the entrance to the huge Manukau Harbour. I thought of the Orpheus, one of the most modern Corvettes in Great Britain's huge navy. The Orpheus was a hybrid ship ... steam and sail. I knew a little of the history of her being sent to the new Colony of New Zealand. She was sailing/steaming into a cauldron of discontent. On one hand, the new settlers, who wanted land, and on the other ... the <i>Tangata Whenua, </i>who had already experienced the dishonouring of <i>Treaty of Waitangi </i>that should have enshrined the Maori occupation of their land.<br />
<br />
The Orpheus was sent to New Zealand to protect the settler in Auckland. My thoughts turned to the crew and other aboard this most modern of ships: Who were they? How had chance played a part in how they came to be aboard the ship. What would happen to them, once they arrived? My mind played with 'fictional characters,' and I turned to my friend and said, "I'm going to write a book about the Orpheus."<br />
I don't remember his reply, but on the way home, I had flashes of an idea. That night, I stayed awake, finding sleep near impossible. The next day, I arrived at work, very early and I set about writing ... for about thirty minutes. A colleague came into my office and I read the first two pages. And so it began.<br />
<br />
Three months later, I had the first draft of a massive seven hundred page Saga. I called it <b>THE SONS OF ORPHEUS.</b> I found an editor, in Wellington and sent it to her, I communicated and had a meeting with. Michelle. There was much wrong with my book. I needed to rewrite, cut and fix and follow her suggestions. It seemed way too much. I sadly lost interest ... but not completely. From time to time, I revisited the text, but once again shrugged off the thought of attempting the huge task. I 'shelved it,' putting the experience down to 'learning about writing.' In the meantime, I wrote three other books: <b>Coastal Yarns, Roskill </b>and <b>Talk to Me. </b>I self-published, a very expensive exercise.<br />
<br />
The years flew by and I followed the dream that I started this blog with. I joined various organizations in my new town, mainly voluntary, and continued to work, part-time as a counsellor, travelling back to Auckland once a week. I joined a local writers group. <b>(The Thames Writers Group) </b>You can find it on FaceBook. The members encourage one another to write. We read our stories and give feedback. It was the support of the members, particularly my new editor, Carolyn MacKenzie, that led me to enter Part One of Sons of Orpheus to a writing competition. I rewrote, shortened and generally refocussed the story. I managed to get into the final ten for the competition, but have yet to hear the final result.<br />
<br />
I decided to publish the first book in the trilogy as an ebook, with the possibility of producing hard copy at a later date. <b>Sons of Orpheus, Book 1 - The Arrival,</b> goes live on December 23, 2019. It is available as a preorder, NOW! You can download it to your Kindle or other devices on the above date, but if you preorder, it auto loads when it goes live.<br />
Scroll down in the blog and click on the link provided and the book will preorder and load on the release date. Please share and don't forget to review the book. A link pops up at the end of the book. Reviews draw attention. The more I sell (US$ 2.99) the sooner Part 2 comes out,<br />
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-65449869869639071022019-12-19T13:41:00.000-08:002019-12-19T13:43:53.328-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here's the link to my new book, folks.<br />
<b>Sons of Orpheus (Book 1- The Arrival)</b><br />
In 1863, The Orpehues was sent to New Zealand to patrol the Waikato Heads, to stop Maori <i>Waka </i>(war canoes) from attacking Auckland. The Settpelrs were demanding land and that land was NOT theirs. What follows is fundamental to the New Zealand of today.<br />
189 people drowned in New Zealand's worst maraito]imer disaster. This a fictional story, based on factual events.<br />
<b>Sons of Orpheus </b>is a trilogy. Download the first part, from the link below. $US 2.99 (NZ$ 3.44)<br />
Hard copy will be available at a later date.<br />
The Ebook is available now as a preordered and will auto-load on December 23 to your device. (Times may vary according to Time Zones) Get your Christmas read now. Take it to the beach if you are in NZ, or snuggle up in your favourite chair if you are in the Northern Hemisphere ad immerse yourself in this crucial time in NZ's history. There is a STRONG Aussie connection in this series.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Sons-Orpheus-Book-1-Arrival-ebook/dp/B082RWYWTN/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Sons+of+Orpheus&qid=1576790748&s=books&sr=1-1">https://www.amazon.com/Sons-Orpheus-Book-1-Arrival-ebook/dp/B082RWYWTN/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Sons+of+Orpheus&qid=1576790748&s=books&sr=1-1</a><br />
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-67348243025769131102019-12-15T11:57:00.003-08:002019-12-27T16:35:40.038-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sons of Orpheus</h2>
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Book 1 The Arrival</h3>
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<b>By Neil Coleman</b></div>
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Sons of Orpheus is available <b>NOW! What are you waiting for?</b></div>
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<b> (</b><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082RWYWTN/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=sons+of+orpheus&qid=1576438802&s=books&sr=1-2">https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082RWYWTN/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=sons+of+orpheus&qid=1576438802&s=books&sr=1-2</a>)</div>
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Two young men, from two different cultures, thousands of miles apart, leave their homelands. Jack seeks a new life, after the terrible Potatoe famine in Ireland leaves a destitute land.</div>
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Adi in Sumatra has his life altered forever when an earthquake destroys his village ... and his memory.</div>
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Meanwhile, in the young Colony of New Zealand, settlers demand land; land that is already inhabited. Warships are needed, whales abound in the Southern Ocean. How will Jack and Adi become involved in the changing situation in New Zealand? </div>
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The clash of cultures, adventure, love ... all play their part in this fast-moving, Young Adult novel, a book that all ages will enjoy.<br />
Don't have a Kindle. No matter. Go to Play Store (Android) or App Store (Apple ) and download the free APP, then register to download onto your phone, Laptop, Ipad or Tablet. Search for <b>Sons of Orpheus, (Book 1 - The Arrival</b> on Bookstore (Amazon e-books). While you are there, download my other two books, <b>ROSKILL </b>and <b>Talk to Me.</b><br />
Happy reading.</div>
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(www.authorneilcoleman.com)</div>
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-59067370090309062522019-12-08T14:27:00.000-08:002019-12-08T15:12:30.421-08:00Sons of Orpheus. Book One, The Arrival.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
At long last. Sons of Orpheus has been ten years in the making. Stop, start, rewrite .,, stop again ... until my friends in The Thames Writers Group encouraged me to resurrect my script, and get it out there.<br />
I am about to upload the book onto Amazon. If you like historical novels, maybe this is for you. Although Sons of Orpheus (SOO) is a Young Adult novel, it has appeal for older readers, who love New Zealand history. SOO is 'creative nonfiction,' in that the storyline is based around historical facts, but the characters are predominantly fictional.<br />
New Zealand history has almost exclusively been written by the victims of the Colonial Wars. It has only been recently that a more balanced version has been acknowledged. SOO is a story of the clash of cultures; the pain, loss, love and adventures of three main characters, expanding across the Pacific, but always hinging on the Settlement of Onehunga and the growing city of Auckland.<br />
SOO is a three-part saga. Book One: The Arrival sets the scene. The script reached the finals of a writer Festival,' about eighteen months ago. The final results are pending. SOO needs to launch. Thus the imminent release as an E-book. You will have the option of preordering. If you have a device you can do it. You will be able to download a free APP from my website (www.authorneilcoleman.com) and following the links from Neils Book. You will also be able to search Amazon Books and enter the title. Please share this.<br />
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-53680334655216603822019-11-13T19:09:00.000-08:002019-11-13T19:09:46.928-08:00A Steampunk story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;">STEAMPUNK STRIPPER!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By Neil
Coleman<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>12/11/19<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> “No … you
stay home, girl. I took you for a long walk this morning. I got up early, just
for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perdy’s eyes
said otherwise. She gave me a look that went beyond my attire. Indeed, she
couldn’t have cared less about my crazy ‘look.’ My black costume festooned
with a plethora of decor from times past … or was its times neutral, historic
reality mixed with fantasy gone mad? Perdy had been there, while I slaved late
into many nights, cutting, inventing new techniques, attaching, mending,
repairing mistakes, pricking fingers, swearing copiously, calling for help,
strutting around, then changing my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On one
occasion, well past midnight, I almost threw in the towel, until I realized
that an old towel was all I needed to modify a kind of ‘vagabondous’ look. I
stitched it to a flowing cloak. My costume weighed as much as a small car,
along with so many additions, I could be heard from quite a distance; clinging,
clacking, ringing and reflecting light in a manner that defeated the stars in
the Milky Way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The morning
of the parade was upon me. Breakfast was done and dusted, I visited the toilet
for the last time because any visits from here on were going to be a mission.
Perdy made another attempt to ‘guilt-me-out.’ I folded. Hell … her company
would be great, and she loves a good walk. The noise of the parade would keep
her close to me, and I’d stay well away from the beating drums of the ‘Latin Marchers.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come on then … here … stick this on your
collar. It’s just a bit of bling-punk-bling!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I attached
Perdy to me in the usual fashion; a tried and true method to contain her
exuberance; the long leash clicked around my much-expanded waist, in a non-calorific
manner. Still … I looked like a huge monument to fashion gone wrong. I figured
I’d be lost in the crowd of similar displays of Thame’s version of The Big Gay
Out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pushed the
car seat to its maximum and folded myself in. “I may regret this, Perdy … It’s
gonna be a hot one.” She jumped up onto the parcel tray and barked the whole
way in to town, where after driving around the block several times, I found a car
park behind the bookshop. We walked down a side-street, avoiding the main
street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A crowd had gathered at the
southern end of the street, waiting for a signal to begin the procession. Perdy
wasn’t the only dog. She dragged me towards a beautiful Labrador, whose Mum had
matched her attire to that of her fur-babe. Her glance at Perdy informed me that
she thought I was a lazy bastard. “She won’t let me add much more than a
collar,” I said defensively.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ten minutes
later, the parade kicked off. An explosion of music covering many genres
punctuated warm air. I was already sweating, beneath the top-hat, cloak. and
yes … the dagger! At first, it was manageable, trudging along to the cries of
the admiring crowd. It seemed everyone was taking pictures, or sending out live
feeds on Facebook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t
long before Perdy decided that walking along the main street simply bored her …
barking at the crowd, the dogs, imagined vermin and people she knew from our numerous
walks. She took interest in a voluminous dress, that dragged along behind a
woman, enticingly just out of her reach … almost … oh no! She pounced, grabbing
the hemline in her mouth. She tugged … all eight kilos of muscle, and reverse
pulled. The woman screamed as half her dress departed from her back. Luckily,
she had an underlay of frilly garments, something passing for a Nineteenth
Century petticoat, I guess, but looking more like something from a sex shop.
She tried to grab the ruined dress from Perdy’s mouth, a hopeless task, because
my monster had started ripping it to shreds, like an unlucky rat. To make
matters worse, the people around us were laughing. I wasn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took off my
cloak and thrust it towards the distraught lady. I looked at her more closely.
I knew her, beneath her layers of makeup, long eyelashes and iridescent
lipstick. “I’m so sorry,” I offered pathetically as she grabbed the cloak and
wrapped it around her shoulders. Bits dropped off, bouncing in front of Perdy,
who immediate tried to gather them up. In the meantime, the crowd of marchers
parted either side of the spectacle. From various comments, it sounded like
people thought it was ‘staged.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully,
the woman played along, but the darting, angry looks directed at Perdy and me,
spoke otherwise. Then she seemed to recognize me. Unbelievably, she started
laughing. “YOU … owe me, big time mate!” Perdy had finally let go the remnants
of her dress. The cloak added a crazy, pseudo-sexual quality to her look,
something halfway between a dominatrix and Wonder Woman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I am so
sorry,” I spluttered. I had met her several times on the walks Perdy, and I
enjoyed every day. “How can I make up for Perdy’s ‘wreck-fest?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stopped
and moved to the side of the road in a gap outside a café. “Let’s go inside,” I
said, indicating the café. She followed. We found a seat, close to the window,
just outside. “What can I get you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t think
they serve what I need. Just grab me a flat white and a slice.” She pulled a
small flask from her Victorian handbag. Tell Rex to leave a gap … for this,”
she added. “I so need it. Now … where are you taking me for an EXPENSIVE
dinner, tonight?!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-NZ" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-NZ;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thanks Perdy
… you always make my day, eh. Is it gonna be poll dancing next year?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-67269424425881252652019-10-11T14:24:00.001-07:002019-10-11T14:24:21.119-07:00'P' (Methamphetamine) is the new Opium War.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In the mid-19th Century, the Opium Wars were fought between theGreat Qing and the British and the latter imposing the trade of opium upon China. The result was the compromising of China's sovereignty and economic power. It wasn't until the Revolution under Mao, that China finally threw off the last vestiges of Western Colonialiization.<br />
For the last 30 years, (maybe more) the Chinese have arrived at a point where their economy rivals that of the super-power, the USA, probably surpassing it. The future is one in which the USA and it's 'allies' will not be the 'only show in town.' The cultural dominance of the USA showcased in many formats is being increasingly challenged. The shift is increasing in complexity, driven by the economic power of China. Whilst the military supremity of the USA is still a fact, that too is becoming a challengeable proposition, the gap is narrowing. To maintain it's 'top Dog position, the USA is having to divert resources from other sectors of its economy, and that will and is having dire consequences for many vulnerable Americans.<br />
The current 'Trade War,' between the USA and China can only add to the tension between the two nations. The more 'resilient' will be 'the stronger' survivor. The populace of China is possibly in a position where they are more compliant to the direction the leadership 'dictates,' and the leadership of China is m0ore ensconced to holding power.<br />
There is another 'player' in this struggle, and it is a direct repetition of history, only this time, the 'worm has turned.' A new Opium War(s) is being fought, not militarily, but in the dark underworld of'substances. It is not 'provably' State-sponsored, but it could well have the same dire consequences of the Opium Wars, the breakdown of society and an imposition on nations' finances, as they attempt to stop the flow of the 'new opium.'<br />
China is not the only source of the prerequisites or 'ready to use,' 'P'(Methamphetamine) but it is the major player. New Zealand is not the only recipient. The seizure of MDA, and the fully cooked 'P,' at our (and other nations') borders, is a regular front-page news item. Those benefitting, are not just the gangs, but 'reportedly other groups and individuals, spanning many sectors of our society.<br />
The spread of this scourge has long been documented, reaching into all of our towns and cities. The cost of families, individuals, businesses is massive.<br />
One only needs to go beyond the headlines in our papers and news outlets, and take a look at online discussions, to realize how insidious "P' has become. The suffering is endemic. The loss of hope, the crime related to 'P' is incredibly destructive, (although many would say alcohol is right up there too)ripping families apart and destroying lives. No sector of society is immune to its evil reach. Politicians promise, fail, making false claims or using the 'P' Crisis' to lambast their political foes, whilst the damage spreads. It has been cynically used by others to dishonestly gain; for example in the 'P-testing ' of homes, that did not need such desperate interventions.<br />
We know how 'P' is easily purchased. Indeed, the price has fallen to a point that it is cheaper than 'Pot.'<br />
The market has been flooded by massive amounts of MDA from China. China has a 'take-no-prisoners-that-live,' approach, brutally eliminating those who are caught in possession or trading. That so much 'product' flows beyond its borders is the new Opium War. They fight 'the good war' within their borders,' only publicly and occasionally featuring the punishment of those involved in sending the scourge abroad ... just enough to pay lip-service to stamp out the practice..<br />
In the meantime, we face the costs on a daily basis.<br />
It is for that reason that I wrote my book, ROSKILL, a few years ago. Roskill is the story of a family in crisis, facing the loss of their father, husband and hope. Roskill is also a journey of hope; that we can fight the demons within us. It tells a story that all teens and parents should read.<br />
Some libraries have the book. Ask if they do not. (Roskill, by Neil Coleman).<br />
You can purchase it directly from me (the cheapest option, but even less expensive, is the online version. Just go to my website. (neilcolemanauthor.com) Just click on Neils Books and follow the links. While you are doing this, check out Talk To Me (Finalist in the Ngaio Marsh Crime Writers Awards, a few years ago.)<br />
Let's fight this battle together. China suffered in the past, through actions of Western powers. Wars in all formats have no winners!</div>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-16840100480927464802019-10-10T21:32:00.001-07:002019-11-30T14:47:42.735-08:00'Sons of Orpheus,' Book One' is coming!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have indicated many times in the past, that a book I started nine years ago, Sons of Orpheus, is 'coming.' OK, it has undergone two edits, and it was entered into a Writer's competition, getting into the final ten, but nothing eventuated. <br />
I gave up!<br />
However, my staunch friends at the Thames Writer's Group encouraged me to persist. I can now announce that I have divided the huge book (700 plus pages) into a trilogy. I have extensively rewritten the first book of the trilogy, cutting out superfluous content, and took out some amazingly 'creative errors.' Hell, I had killed off a major character, then resurrected her, later in the book. Some who had read the first effort thought it was a quirky twist. Lol. Nope! Just me!<br />
I was kind of over the book, but it would not leave me alone. I would go somewhere featured in the book, and the story would pop into my mind. It invaded my dreams. I must get it 'out there.'<br />
I cannot afford the huge cost involved in self-publishing, but I can cope with an Ebook on Amazon. <br />
I have a wonderful group of friends, family and supporters, including a skilful editor, and a clever artist, who is designing, painting a cover, behind me. <br />
I have learned much about publicizing my books, and hopefully, with my new levels of energy and commitment, this book will be out there well before Christmas.<br />
It will only available via Amazon, as an E-book, initially, but if this one does better than ROSKILL and TALK TO ME, I may be able to make hard copy available through Amazon, or by printing it here in New Zealand.<br />
Watch this space, as I start posting 'progress reports,' and giving a few clues about the 'story.'<br />
(www.authorneilcoleman.com)<br />
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<b>UPDATE 1/12/19 (12/1/19 Editing almost complete, cover design is done!</b></div>
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www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4347523994632937780.post-3656895263994965052019-08-28T01:06:00.001-07:002019-08-28T01:06:51.162-07:00KFC for dinner:<p dir="ltr">After a busy morning cleaning, turning his clients house into  '$howhouse Special,' Rio pulled into the drive through option at the KFC by the round about. The queue was bearable. Maybe the lunch crowd had  driven to the parks or beaches up the Coast, to consume their greasy, mouth watering portions of chicken chips and Coke.<br>
Rio placed his order, and proceeded to the window, where the girl with the headset was taking another order. She had to wait while the group in the car behind Rio argued about their order, changing their minds several times. <br>
She smiled at Rio, muttering, 'Some people are pains in ... '  She didn't finish.  Passing the mobile EFTPOS through window to Rio, who entered  his code, then following through with the bag of goodies and the Coke, then rechecking the order for the group behind, she turned to her supervisor. 'Can you deal with them?' <br>
Rio stuck the Coke in the drink-holder and placed the bag on the passenger seat. He couldn't resist sampling a few chips as he pulled onto the main road.<br>
A few minutes later he opened the back door of the little yellow cottage, met by a manic Jack Russell, who jumped up, seeking the source of the tantalizing smell, accompanying 'Daddy.'<br>
'Out of the way, girl. It's not for you.'<br>
Perdy persisted. She wasn't one to give up, just because Rio commanded. Even as he turned the warming oven on, she kept up her frantic pleading.<br>
'You know I'm not like Neil, so give up girl. THERE'S your food ... in the fish's<br>
Perdy looked at Rio, with that look that screamed, " selfish bastard ... HE shares his food!"<br>
Perdy gave up and chopped on a few of her doggie biscuits before stomping off to the lounge, while Rio placed the KFC into the warming oven, switched on the kettle, measured out the rice, before cooking it in the microwave. <br>
Fifteen minutes later he piled the chicken and chips.onto the rice and joined PERDY in the lounge. He selected the next episode of GLEE on Netflix, settling himself onto the lounge. He was all set for an escape into the dizzy world of 'teenage hope and dreams of ... making it.'<br>
Neil in the meantime, needed to head to town, for an appointment with a client. He was boxed in by Rio's car, necessitating a shout from the back door. 'Can you move your car, Rio ... please?'<br>
Three minutes later, Neil's phone rang in the car, via Bluetooth. He answered, once again happy with the hands-free facility.<br>
'What's up ... did I leave my walker again?'<br>
'Umm ... no ... but Perdy has been really bad ... really naughty.'<br>
'Has she escaped again ... killed a chook ... what?' Neil asked.<br>
Rio hesitated. ' She ... ate my KFC ... except for the chips.' His voice was a mix of anger, frustration and an edge of concern.<br>
Neil amplified that. 'Shit ... bones and all ...?<br>
Rio interrupted. 'Yes ...'<br>
'Bloody Hell ... that kill her.' Neil sounded upset. 'Is she looking Ok ... Has she been sick ... bugger ... Christ ... she may have to contribute vet, if a bone is stuck. I'm right outside the vet now ... I'm going in ... I'll get back to you. Keep a watch.'<br>
'OK ... Hell she gulped it all down in seconds.'<br>
Neil parked directly opposite the vet, parked and entered the Vet, and approached the counter where he foiled in the details of Perdy's gastronomic adventure. He was informed that, yes, there was a risk, and that Perdy would need to be watched. <br>
A few minutes later, he called Rio and told him about the receptionist's comments. 'All we can do is watch her, I guess,' Rio said, in that no nonsense practical way he sometimes viewed the world.<br>
' It's gonna be a waiting few days,' Neil replied, with a resigned look. 'It's not like we haven't been here, before, eh!'<br>
'It's bloody hard being a parent, especially of one of these little sods ... Right ... You go to your meeting. I'll ring you if anything happens.<br>
And so the waiting begins! So far .....<br></p>
www.authorneilcoleman.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04005972550041668502noreply@blogger.com0