ARCHITECTURE AND AMIE

THE BIG TRIP

After a couple of days in Penang it was time to fly out to our last destination – Singapore. Another airplane, another take off and landing. I honestly couldn’t believe how cheap it was to fly on the Far East low cost Air Asia service. However, this leg was on Jet Star, and their message pinged on the cell phone long before we had planned to get up. It informed us that our flight was delayed. That was good, but they didn’t give us any reason and, more importantly, did not say how long it was delayed for.  

This is how I imagined it, in for a quick service.
There was nothing we could do but make tracks for the airport – the delay could be 5 minutes or 5 hours.

Breakfast in the hotel was a revolting cold omelette and we only just managed to snaffle the last two slices of bread for our toast and marmalade.

We hung around Penang airport drinking coffee, changing money, buying a fridge magnet for an enormous price, and avoiding the disgusting loos. We took off two hours late, almost breaking our teeth on the revolting sandwiches they served up. We landed in Changi in less than an hour. The immigration area was empty and we were processed in less than 5 minutes. They took photos and fingerprints and our luggage was there waiting for us – such efficiency!

What a different world! Totally first world. I adored Singapore, it’s my kind of place. The next few blogs will be pictures – I took so many! However I’m battling to get them off the iPad and onto the laptop. Here I am 5 hours later and DH has managed to crack it.

I often wonder if I was an architect in a former life as I love buildings, old and modern and I’m fascinated by their shapes.

HISTORY NONSENSE

By the time Bertie had reached 50, he was thinking that it was time he settled down.   Everything went wrong with Alix away. There was a fire in Sandringham and George his son fell ill. Bertie cancelled all the planned house parties and took his younger son to London.  The diagnosis was enteric fever. He did in fact recover.

This is a Sandringham house party photo, and all the guests obliged by wearing black and white as they did not have colour photography in those days.

However, his settled years, between 50 and 60, were pretty boring while he waited to ascend the throne, but to be quite honest he guessed he wasn’t going to reign for too many years. Shame, he’d waited so long and with a mother like that … well I feel for him. Sorry to confuse you but Bertie became Edward VII – I think that’s the right number for him.

 

THE ADVERTISING BIT

I’m still in edit on Amie book 4 which has now got a name – Amie Final Cut and I explore a subject that is rarely talked about above a whisper.  A few lines from the opening.

“Oh, my God! It’s Amie! It’s Amie!” The shriek reverberated round the walls of the shopping mall bouncing off the plate glass windows and echoing along the hall.

Amie froze in her tracks. The plastic shopping bags slipped out of her lifeless hands and slithered onto the floor. Was the voice referring to her? Had someone recognized her? Was it someone who knew her well? What was she going to say? How could she explain? What was worse, she could have sworn it was her mother’s voice. No, that wasn’t possible. Her parents were six thousand miles away outside London. This was Johannesburg, South Africa, her mother wouldn’t be here. Would she?

“Now Mary, calm down, you’re imagining things. You know it’s not Amie. Amie’s gone.”

Still Amie couldn’t move, she was riveted to the spot – she didn’t even dare turn round. The mannequins in the shop window peered sightlessly at her as she stared at the reflection in the glass. Her mother’s name was Mary. It was her mother. Here, just across the hallway. Hell!

“It’s only another girl who looks a little like Amie.” Her father’s voice wasn’t convincing and Amie could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. Did he believe his daughter was standing only a few feet away? “Remember,” he continued, “you thought you saw her in Croydon shopping centre a few months ago. That wasn’t Amie either, just a girl who reminded you of her.”

“Let me just ask her …”

“No! You can’t go bothering people. There are millions of thirty year-old girls with blonde hair all over the world. Come and sit down for a moment.”

Amie retrieved the bags off the floor, fumbling with stiff fingers to prevent dropping them a second time. As usual she dithered, uncertain what to do. More than anything in the world she wanted to run to them, throw her arms wide open and tell them that yes, she was Amie their daughter. She was alive – alive and well.

If you’re curious about why Amie is both alive and dead, you’ll find the answer in book 3 STOLEN FUTURE http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M67NRG4

Till next week, take care.