This example of in-depth research is the key to finding the kind of men women want. Makes you think, doesn’t it? Do you suppose 40 Liberal Arts students would be more or less inclined to find funny things to do with chocolate and hairspray than 40 Psychology students?
Who you gonna call when things go bump in the night? Except that Ghostbusters is a fantasy and the only thing instead is a well-meaning individual who responds as best he can to the real troubles in the world. Robert Preston isn’t actually going to come and recruit him to be the Last Starfighter to go and save the galaxy.
They talk about the US President as if he was the only one who ever had to make a tough decision. Oh, sure, but no one has to make bigger or better decisions than the Americans. The world knows that.
So who you gonna call? Ghost busting now is big business, with courses and certificates and all sorts. Still only window dressing.
His mother would have understood. But all of a sudden there was a big hole in his life where she used to be.Now there was no one to share an anecdote that evoked a memory from childhood or to consult about what a particular plant was or who starred in which film.
He sighed as he stood up and blew his nose. Enough! Time he grew up.
He straightened his shoulders and hobbled back into the Retirement Home.
This is an extract from the forth-coming novel. The Last Pirate In Peng Chau. The intention is to publish in digital format on Kindle, and your feedback would be most welcome. Would this work better as straight text or more like a blog post with links and photos? What do you think?
In another time, In another place,
A young ghost fellow
Met a young woman.
So much happened.
So many involved.
So whose story is this?
Who is the star
Who outshines the rest?
Who is content
To play the support?
Each has their own tale to tell.
Greed and corruption,
Science and stone-age superstition
Side by side in the
Sophisticated City of Sin.
A duel of magic,
Finding a treasure
Losing an opportunity ……
All this to show,
Or is it really so?
Did these things happen?
Or is it yet to be?
My humble name is Wong,
Not the colour yellow,)
My given name is
And I have the honour
To be the last pirate
In Peng Chow.
He could tell that the engines of the specially adapted junk were straining now, as they rounded the headland and saw the bay with its sandy beach stretching between the hills like the arm of a dumbbell. Although this was home, there would be no point trying to make for the harbour. The 2 police launches were not so far behind, and he couldn’t see if either of them was showing the agreed signal.
“Which way now, Dai Lo?” shouted the oldest of the Hakka crew, planted firmly behind the helm.
“Head for The Oysters, and we’ll see if these Gwai Lo have the stomach for proper sailing!”
The 2 younger men laughed aloud as the helmsman adjusted his course.
Not for the first time, the big Chinese thanked his joss for having been born into a sea-faring tribe with much stronger ties than any amount of blood-thirsty Triad oaths could command. His father had been a Shanghainese from Putow province, which was why he stood head and shoulders above all his mother’s kin, but perhaps his very size added to the mystique that already shrouded his reputation as the most successful pirate in the South China Seas.
The cargo currently secured in the junk’s hold would bring a huge price once he could get it to safety and arrange for its subsequent passage to the mainland. It was a god-cursed misfortune that he had stumbled upon a pair of Police launches with nothing better to do than amuse themselves by stopping an honest-seeming fishing junk for a routine inspection. Had there been any way of concealing his cargo, he would have taken a chance and let them board, especially if he could have seen if a red port navigation light was blinking. But the nature of his cargo meant that even the fish-reeking hold would not mask the smell, and so he had turned away, pretending he had not heard the police loud-hailer.
Now they would know that something was amiss, and his only chance was to try and lure them into the shallows round The Oysters and make good his escape.
On board Royal Hong Kong Police Launch TST1, Thompson, the sandy-haired Marine Police officer glanced nervously across to the other launch, which was now beginning to speed away in pursuit of the junk. By rights, being the senior of the 2 launch commanders, he should be directing this operation, but he somehow always felt intimidated by the older man because of his experience gained in other Police Forces.
Of course, rank is rank, and he was the Acting Superintendent, but that cut no ice with the swarthy tattooed inspector who had recently transferred to Hong Kong from Borneo.
And what were those tattoos about anyway? Only squaddies form the ranks or your common-or-garden jack tar would allow themselves to be painted in such a way. No gentleman would ever dream of such a thing. But that is the way the Force was going. Before you knew it, they would be promoting Chinese officers to senior ranks!
Not but what they were extremely capable, of course, and what Station Sergeant Tsang – universally known as The Major because his badge of office resembled that of a Regimental Sergeant Major – didn’t know about the shadowy world of triad gangsters and their various enterprises wasn’t worth knowing.
Actually, he wished Station Sergeant Tsang was on board as his own cox’n instead of the dark skinned Hakka sergeant, Ng. He didn’t really trust Ng, coming as he did from the same background as half the villains they were supposed to be investigating. Tsang, on the other hand, was Cantonese, and much easier to get on with.
However, he was thick as thieves with Godwinson, and had been as soon as Godwinson had arrived at Marine HQ. It was almost as if the two of them had a history, although that was hard to understand, since , as far as he knew, Tsang had lived all his life in Hong Kong, whereas this was Godwinson’s first tour there, no matter how many other Colonial postings he might boast of.
But then, even Acting Superintendents don’t know everything.
Personally, I think this is rather cool, but you should be warned that, although there is a serious chance you may end up making some money, Ripln will not give you the answer to 11 Free Tips To Find The 5 Principles Of The Secret Tao Of 7 Steps To The Success Of Facebook Marketing. Free. Part I
No, my dear. To be a comic serious entrepreneur, you need this advice.
On the other hand, if you’d like to earn a wodge for doing what comes naturally and you’d like a Ripln invite, please leave a message in the Comments box.
Catchy title, no? As any SEO expert, or journalism undergraduate will tell you, for free, the secret of writing free tips is to get as many free keyword numbers in as possible. Preferably for free.
Unless I’ve misunderstood.
Although in our search for the 7 Steps towards Marketing Successs on Facebook, the Secret Tao must remain secret – at least until Part II – the 5 Principles can be named. They are, in fact Yat, Dva, Tres, Vier and Eneuf.
One may find Oneself wondering where Wordsworth wandered.
Recent statistcs show that Google has more than 109 visitors every day, although this figure may be open to dispute.
Based on my own extensive research witn Facebook friends I have virtually met, what actually happens to Google visitors is that they spend at least 5 minutes logging on, and then scan at least 1 page for 20 seconds after it has loaded.
OK, here it is then;
The Simple 7 Step Approach to Prospecting on Facebook and Skype
1. Switch on.
2. Wait for connection to the Internet
3. Make coffee
4. Scan web page for 20 secs.
5. Navigate to new page
6. Wait for it to load
7. Make coffee
For advanced Entrepreneurs;
8. GOTO 4
9. Stay in the loop
I can’t reveal any more at this stage for reasons of economy. Although, unlike the Bard, I have world enough and time, I do not yet have your e-mail address.
Can’t quite remember why this arrangement doesn’t have an accordion in it.It started out as a kind of musical doodle, as many of my songs do. It was meant to be a homage to Django Reinhardt and the Hot Club of Paris, which sort of defined our perception of French cafe music.
Halfway through, it started to remind me of the Maigret Theme, and other songs, and it very nearly ended up being called ‘Everything You’ve Ever Heard’, but that title is already spoken for by a friend who writes some bitingly clever satirical songs. (Take a bow, Trevor).
The photograph is young Rosie, taken at the Dee Valley near Llangollen. For once, she looks as if she can’t remember what she was doing!
Doesn’t it always take you by surprise when a sudden shift of perspective shows you something that’s been right under your nose? No. this isn’t about the Pina Colada Song, but it does concern music.
I wrote this tune several years ago and we used to play it in the band between dance sets as an atmospheric piece. It’s a slow air, heavily influenced by the Irish music which was all around during my college years in Northern Ireland.
A group of us shared digs in the small fishing village of Portrush on the Antrim coast, just a few miles from the Giant’s Causeway. Though the landscape where we lived was not quite that spectacular, there was a cliff on the headland where the wind coming off the Atlantic was amazingly fierce, even on a calm day.
In need of a title for this tune, I named it after the headland – Ramore Head – which was pronounced locally with the accent on the second syllable; Ra-MORE Head.
Not long ago a friend of mine was listening to some arrangements and said he liked ‘the slow one”, which he called RAM-ore Head. All of a sudden it was obvious that the last line of the tune fit the title when the name was pronounced that way.