Something Happened!

A few months ago I had a major birthday.  Lindsey took me away for the weekend to a lovely coastal town. We had a fabulous weekend on the beachfront. Scout, out terrier, certainly loved it. We ate well, I bought some fabulous books from a local indie bookshop, walked and scoured the charity shops in town.

For some reason, I had Rendlesham Forest on my mind. I don't know why, as I always thought it was well away from there. And so I googled it and was surprised to learn it was only 10 miles or so from where we were staying. I asked Lindsey if we could go, and playingt he birthday boy card, she acquiesced.  Lindsey had never heard of it, and so I told her the story of the Rendlesham incident.

What?  You've never heard of it either? The UK's Roswell?  You have google. Go there, and go there now.  You can always return here.

Lindsey was amazed that she's never known about this incident. We went, and it was a ovely forest. We followed the UFO trail, which was well signposted and provided great information. It was, I must admit, quite eerie and moving. And then we arrived at the small clearing where the actual incident took place.

There is a sculpture of the craft in place. A stylised model of the actual craft that was seen. It was extremely powerful. Amazing to be there after having read about the incident for 30 plus years,

I've since watched a couple of fabulous documentaries about the incident. The witnesses are credible. They touched the craft. They made notes at the time. The base deputy commander (USAF) had a recorded and taped his observations. Something happened there, something unearthly - despite what the MOD and the USAF say. And we all know what that was.

Since then my niece has seen a show about Rendlesham and told my wife she planned to go there. She was amazed when Lindsey knew all about it, and told her we had been there.

Stay safe, and don't believe all you are told. Something is happening, and it's going to peak soon.

Remembered For A While.

I read a great deal. And widely.

There's something magical about reading old anthologies of short stories. Stories from a different world, a different time. Often written in a different style to modern writing, with language, situations and events that simply wouldn't fly today. They seem quirky, out of place, as though from an alternate history. But I love them for this reason. And there's a joy in discovering a particularly brilliant short story by an author I've never heard of before. I look them up, and sometimes there is no further information to be found.

And then I get to wondering. Did they write anything else, or were they prolific but only had one story published? Maybe they had other stories published in magazines not readily available? And what did they do outside their writing life?  Maybe they only live on through that one written piece.

Last week, this was on my mind when I was walking through a cemetery. This is local, and I often take a short cut through it. I see the names on the gravestones, some going back centuries and none of which I recognise, and continue on. But this time I wondered about them. Who were they? How did they live their lives? Were they happy?

The next day I saw a quote which seemed apt. "One day, someone will mention your name for the final time and then you'll be forgotten."

I've tried to find the source for this, but it appears to be a variation on a quote attributed to Banksy, "They say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing, and a second time when somebody says your name for the last time."  And take that a step further, and it appears to be an articulation of an ancient Egyptian saying.  And who said it originally?  Ironically, we have no idea.

Will I be remembered? For a while, I guess. Not as long as others who have fame. Maybe in a hundred years or more someone will stumble across one of my publications, enjoy it, and jump on the then version of the internet to try and find out about me. With so much data out there now, it's possible they will know more about me than I do. They may even read this.

Hello, future reader!

But ultimately, does it matter if we're remembered? Does it change anything? We won't know.

All we can do is our best, and to try to leave the world a slightly better place.

Still Writing.

I was fortunate enough to have another publication a couple of months ago. I haven't submitted anything since then, and I'm not currently writing new fiction. But that doesn't mean I'm not writing.

I've been writing quite a lot, and quite often. And I've been using pen and paper rather than sitting at a computer screen.  My work is almost all online, so I've found it more relaxing to be writing by hand. It took a little getting used to, as it has been a while since I wrote so much by hand, but it didn't take too long. My handwriting, when I focus, is a little tidier too, and much less of a scrawl.

These are a couple of projects which I've wanted to undertake for some time. And I'm making real progress.  It's unlikely they will ever be seen publicly. I never planned for them to be anything other than private. But you never know. Elements, or parts, may become incorporated into other works.

Will I write fiction again? Absolutely. But at the moment it's a matter of priorities, and I want to get through a fair chunk of these projects by the end of the year. If I need a break from them, I do have some older stories which need rewriting, as well as a few notebooks full of ideas, thoughts and random observations. A completely new story is not out of the picture.

But for now I hand write my projects. And I am really enjoying the process.

Who's A Good Boy, Then?

This is my boy. And he is such a very good boy.

He is patient, friendly, loving, and very gentle. He knows my moods, and acts accordingly. He is always delighted when I arrive home, and shows unconditional love.

We can learn a lot from dogs.

When I'm down, his antics cheers me up. When I'm busy, he reminds me we need to play. And when we play, he teaches me there is much joy to be had in the simplest of games.

I truly believe everyone should spend ten minutes a day cuddling a dog, and playing chase games.

If we were more like this good boy, the world would be a much happier place.

Milestones!

I had a big birthday recently. One of those with a zero on the end. And for the first time ever, the numbers actually meant something to me.

Usually I agree that age is just a number. And I've never before given a second though to my age. But the lead up to this one was a little odd. It just felt weird, like I was actually passing some invisible barrier which would change things.

A couple of weeks after the event, and I'm OK with it, but the lead up was ... unsettling, to say the least.

My brother and his wife came to visit, and it was fabulous to see them. I managed to show them around all the sights of Lincoln. My brother loves his history as much as I do, so it was great to see his appreciation of Castles and Cathedrals, Romans and Normans.

We had a small family get-together for my bif day, and right on cue the Red Arrows flew over. It was kinda nice. I received some lovely and thoughtful gifts, and have already spent the book vouchers which were included.

It was great seeing my brother and his wife. But it was wonderful chatting to my brother. He gets my sense of humour, and shares a history.

Thanks for making the trip, guys. Truly appreciated.

Beer and Skittles?

It has been an interesting year so far. There have been some incredible positives, and some dreadful negatives. "Yin and yang, heads and tails, yes and no." (and bonus points if you recognise that quote)

It all balances out and counteracts each other.  What we have to do is learn to overcome the negatives and to focus on the positives.  Which, in my case, I have managed to do. And so I find myself in a really good place.

But things never go according to plan, do they?  I had set several goals for the first half of this year, and due to other things (life), they simply could not happen. But we need to be agile, to be flexible, to adapt and change and meet the challenges. And then we have to wonder where karma fits into it all.

And so here we are, almost 6 months into the year, and all is well.

No skittles around here, but there is beer. Pass me a pint!

C'mon, Pass the Tinfoil!

I was once accused of being a conspiracy theorist on the basis of a UFO sighting.

OK, so 'accused' is a pretty strong word, but it's how I felt at the time. Someone, who is a conspiracy theorist, heard that I had seen a UFO and had a ghostly experience, and said something along the lines of, "I didn't know you were part of the tinfoil hat brigade.  You're one of us."

At that time I had seen a UFO (since then I have seen several more), and had 5 or 6 ghostly encounters. I'd also had a bunch of other occurances I simply couldn't explain. But I never considered myself a tinfoil hat wearer. I mean, I know the earth is spheroid, I know we went to the moon, and I know Paul McCartney didn't die in an accident in 1966 only to be replaced by William Campbell.

So it was strange to be considered a conspiracy theorist.

I was recently called cynical in regards to a comment I made about a situation. Yup, I stand by that comment, and having worked in government departments for many years, and seeing a couple of managers with little integrity, I do believe that some things are manufactured.

Project Blue Beam? Not a chance. But I do believe governments know more about UFOs than they are letting on. In fact, there are conspiracies to manufacture events, there are conspiracies to keep information from us, and there are people in power who lie about things so they and their friends can profit from us.

I'm reminded of the old adage, "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not after you."

I'm off to listen to some Wings albums. Surely William Campbell couldn't have maintained that same high standard through the seventies.  Could he?