TROOP SHIP - a hundred words

TROOP SHIP 1939

“It’s no worse than when we went fishing that time,” Albie said, holding Bert’s belt as the troopship lurched into another trough.

“I were sick then too, remember?” Bert said, heaving up more of his breakfast.

Albie parked his whey-faced friend under a companionway and left him there while he walked the deck. The dark grey waves lifted and fell all the way to a horizon almost as grey, needles of spray lacerated his cheeks, and the deck was slimy with spume and vomit, but Albie pulled in deep lungfuls of the salty wind and laughed with sheer exhilaration.

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I believe this is the first time I've posted an extract from a book, but the mind of a writer is a strange land, and Ted Strutz's photo of a modern ferry took me to a scene from Helter-Skelter - a novel I am hoping to get published. I had to cut the little scene severely to fit, but I hope it shows how much Albie loves the wild tooth and claw of Nature.

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  You can follow the link from there to read other interpretations of the prompt.

VANS, VOLCANOES & VERY HOT CHILLIS

VERY HOT CHILLIS - my OH does like his chilli plants, and these pencil chillis have just ripened in the past few days. Fancy one?

VEHICLE – In May 1940 Albie and his depleted squad destroy a German tank, losing two more of their own men in the process. After a brief roadside burial they know they have to move fast – the explosion will have attracted attention – but they have no transport.

Thompson turned to Albie and asked, “What now, Corp?” thereby acknowledging that, with the Sergeant dead, they were under Albie’s orders; “Shall we catch up with the others?”

“They’re miles away by now,” Green commented sourly, “And we got no transport.”

“Would this do?” asked Darby, pushing open the shed door, and they crowded inside to stare at the strangest vehicle any of them had ever seen.

            If it had ever been a thing of beauty, the evidence now lay under layers of mud and chicken droppings. A topless, backless box of a cab perched behind the engine, there were no bumpers or headlights, and the open back had obviously been created by taking a saw to whatever bodywork had originally been there. When Paddy rubbed the paintwork of the door with his sleeve they read ‘Marc’s Glaces’ – their new vehicle had started life as an ice-cream VAN.

 We know they reach Dunkirk because Helter-Skelter opens with them on the beach (see my C blog for a snippet) but the full story of their perilous journey through the last stretch of France to get there is at the end of my novel. I think the idea of the ice-cream van lightens the story just a tad.

Imagine something like this but a lot less cared-for!

VILLAFLOR is the highest village in Tenerife, 1400 metres above sea level, but many a clapped-out old van still climbs the precipitous winding road that is its only access. Getting stuck behind one of those is only one of the hazards - in the winter Villaflor is sometimes cut off by snow.

Around 2000 people inhabit this peaceful 16^th century village, living mainly by agriculture and viticulture – the wine is lovely.

Its most famous son was Hermano Pedro, Tenerife’s only official saint, whose cave hermitage is at the other extreme - almost at sea level near El Medano, in a VERY noisy position right next to the airport. The airport authorities wanted this place of pilgrimage closed for security reasons, but everyone said NO! Quite right too – Pedro was there first - but sometimes the planes take off to the west and if you're standing outside the cave the noise is tremendous - I love it!

Living so near to a VOLCANO we claim to be blasé about volcanic activity, but when we see clouds that resemble smoke issuing from a chimney, we do wonder ………

TELL ME A STORY, PA

  “TELL ME A STORY” 

I remember asking my father that. I wish I could also remember the stories he made up for me and my brother, but they are lost in the mists of  TIME. One legacy I do have though - he passed on to me his vivid imagination.

Here he is - my PA x

Perhaps earliest man sat in his cave telling stories and the cave paintings we see are simply illustrations? I wonder if they finished their TALES by saying, “THE END”?

At the start of Part 3 of Helter-Skelter I tell the story of Albie at TRAINING CAMP, learning to drive an Army TRUCK, and of what happens when his old enemy from his schooldays TURNS UP in the same regiment.
 Strange as it may seems, records are reticent about the kinds of shennanigans soldiers in training indulged in, but with some input from the OH about his National Service my imagination has had free rein.

  

TEIDE is the TALLEST mountain in the Canary Islands and the Spanish Peninsula. It measures 3718 metres which is over two miles. I know at least two people who joined the “Mile High Club” without leaving the ground, though where they found the energy is a mystery, because the air is very thin.
It can also be very cold – I have been up there in the snow – but there are barbecue areas where local people go all year round. 

You can take a cable car to the top when it’s not too windy, and if you get a permit in advance you can climb the final 200 metres to breathe the sulphurous fumes. Mount Teide might be dormant but it’s not dead.

TREES – The jacarandas flowered in our village last week just in TIME for your photographic TREAT of the day.

SEX, SUN, SEA & STORM

 – and now that I have your attention, ~I will start off with a taster from my novel Helter-Skelter – a description of the beginning of the STORM in 1935 that changes Albie’s future.

One night, after a blustery day earning a few shillings rolling barrels into the pub, Albie was woken by his window rattling in its frame. He got up to see the trees being blown practically horizontal and waves crashing clear over the promenade to batter the road. A dreadful moaning sound built up and up – he had never heard anything like it. He went downstairs to make sure all was secure, but George had beaten him to it and the kettle was already on the hob. Albie was about to take a cup up to Dot when she appeared in the kitchen, clutching her dressing-gown closed as it afraid the howling wind would snatch it away.

“A body can’t sleep with that racket going on, and I’ll feel safer downstairs.”

Would you go downstairs for a cuppa in these circumstances, or pull the covers over your head and pray?

SEX – we all know that this is one reason a lot of folk come to Tenerife - drinking SANGRIA in the SUN lying on the SAND beside the SEA tends to dull people’s perceptions and SENSE of discretion – but there are many more visitors who come for the SCENERY and the food, both of which are SIMPLY STUNNING.

STRELITZIA REGINAE – I took this photo on my walk yesterday – the SPANISH call it Estrelitsa, but they simply cannot pronounce any word that begins with an S without adding an E first!

We see holiday-makers clutching these flowers at the airport – I have never asked if they are actually allowed to take them on board, but I would imagine there are some airlines (naming no names) who would charge extra.

QUEST, QUESO, QUIERO

I was QUITE certain that I’d fall at this fence, but various QUAINT & QUEER bits of inspiration have struck during the day, so here goes on a sampler.

QUEST – A quest is a common theme in novels of all kinds – the quest for love or power or wealth makes a great basis for a story. One of my main themes in Helter-Skelter is Albie’s quest for his biological father. 

George has known Albie for a few months when he asks Albie the QUESTION “Why were you sleeping under the pier?” and this is the moment Albie tells George about it:

 Albie stared at the tattoo on the back of George’s wrist and spoke so softly that George could only just hear.

“Mum told me to eff off. She was going to stay with this bloke, she said – the one what hit her – and they didn’t want a gyppo bastard tagging along.” He stirred his tea savagely. “She’s always calling me that – says a gypsy got her in the club. Anyhow, I’d fed meself for months, she said, so I could carry on doing it. Then they both laughed, so I effed off.”

Is it any wonder that he searches for his father? Anyone would be an improvement on a mother who treats her twelve-year-old son that way. 

Years later, Albie and Bert are QUAFFING their ale in their local tavern when his own mother fails to recognise him and propositions him. Imagine the horror of that.

QUESO = cheese, which we love. Most local cheese is made from goats’ milk – any cows have to live under cover away from the fierce sun – and many Canarians breakfast on QUESO FRESCO Y MEMBRILLO , which is a sweet jelly made from QUINCES. They are very sweet toothed, but I prefer my breakfast sharper-tasting. Lemon curd works well!

 

QUIERO – is the first person singular of the verb QUERER. It can mean simply “I want” as in “I want that shirt”, but it can also mean “I love”. "TE QUIERO" = "I love you." I suppose it could also mean “I want you” but I’ve never been in that kind of situation with a Spanish speaker!

MAPS. MARIA & MONKEYS

MAP ONE.

Having decided to set my novel in North Kent I had to pick a town, but when I couldn’t find one that exactly matched my criteria I invented one …Oh the giddy power of being a writer!

Thambay is situated near Whitstable, and I have taken liberties with the local geology to build it in a bay capable of sheltering a long beach, a fishing harbour and the all-important pier on which stands the Helter-Skelter of my novel.

Then I had to draw a map – I couldn’t have Albie running across the Market Square on the way to the timber yard if that was the wrong way, could I? So here it is – the town Albie grew up in – and it feels so real to me that I’d move there myself if I could!

MARIA

.....Albie wheeled his bike into some woods to shelter under one of the big old trees. He had just pulled the wax packet of sandwiches out of his pocket when he smelled smoke, and his heart pounded inexplicably. Leaving his bike, he pushed his way through the wet tangle of undergrowth to emerge, with startling suddenness, in a clearing full of gypsy wagons………..One face in particular caught his eye…….. she was only a young girl – maybe fifteen or sixteen – but more beautiful than any of the girls in town, and those black eyes were casting a spell on him.

This is Albie’s first sight of Maria, and when she returns his love he is overjoyed. But to marry Maria and travel with her tribe would mean leaving Thambay where George, his ageing adopted father, wants him to take over the Helter-Skelter. Albie faces a difficult decision – until Fate takes a hand.

For your daily dose of Tenerife here is MAP TWO, of a MONKEY ZOO  near us.It’s not nearly as grand as the Loro Parque in the north - to be honest it's a bit scruffy - but the animals and birds do have room to move and you are allowed inside some of the cages. This entranced my grandsons – the tiny MARMOSETS and Lemurs took fruit from their hands and they stroked a giant turtle. My son had a long conversation with a chimp, and when the chimp eventually had enough he sprayed John with a mouthful of water. I wish I’d caught that moment on camera!

These two monkeys where photographed by my daughter-in-law in Costa Rica – sitting in your drinking-water is a wonderful way to keep cool!

KITCHEN 1900s-style & KIKA KAT.

KITCHEN – The heart of Albie’s home after his adoption in 1925 by George and Dot Smith was the kitchen. Meals were cooked and eaten there, baths taken in front of the range, clothes dried on a wooden airer raised and lowered from the ceiling on a pulley system.

Here is an excerpt from my novel Helter-Skelter that describes it through the eyes of a girl who is used to the many rooms of her own family’s farmhouse.

Bessie’s eyes refused to meet his – they were darting wildly round the small kitchen. Apart from the even smaller scullery beyond the other door, this was clearly the only living-room. With a table in front of the window, a range along one wall and a dresser against another, there was scarcely enough space for an ancient armchair and the rocker in which Missus Smith now sat, nervously pleating her apron. The whole house would fit into the scullery back home.

Dot Smith had an old range - the above picture I found online is very close to my mental image of her kitchen - but it is possible that Bessie’s well-off mother had one of the newer models, like this one advertised in a 100 year-old cookery book I bought at a jumble sale. Apparently “The Linings can be removed by any servant, cleaned and replaced without trouble”. I don't have a servant, and to clean my oven I have to get down on my knees - does anyone know where I can get one one of these?

KIKA KAT 

In December 2000, three days before Christmas, we woke up to find Kika and her four kittens on our terrace. I told the full story of their arrival in last year’s A-Z blog so I won’t repeat it here. (You can pop into my archives and have a look if you're interested). 

Suffice it to say that we re-homed the kittens but Kika stayed. The OH, who professes to hate cats, spoils her rotten. He says it’s because her eyes are blue like his – they also go red if they catch the light at night (no comment!)

Kika waits on the swimming-pool wall when we go out and welcomes us home with a spectacular display of somersaults.  She’s getting on a bit now – sometimes she misjudges a leap through the railing and bangs her head (we hear the clang). She’s knocked a tooth out doing it, so she’s not as pretty as she was, but it hasn't spoiled her appetite.

She feigns not to notice the birds that hop about the garden looking for the combings of her hair we throw out and with which they line their nests. I'm sure the birds know she can't be bothered to chase them.

But – she panics if the door is shut while she’s inside the apartment, she still has mad moments when she races from one end of the terrace to the other after a bougainvillea flower, and she refuses to drink clean water, preferring the mucky brown stuff in the bottom of the plant pots – there’s still a bit of wildness left in her.

HELTER-SKELTER & HORSES

   HELTER-SKELTER Anyone who has followed my A-Z blog from the beginning must have guessed this would be my H-word.
It is Albie’s fascination with the helter-skelter on the pier that first brings him to the attention of George, the owner. The ride influences the whole of Albie’s young life, and even in the midst of war the memory comforts him.

HORSES This is another thread that runs through the entire book. Gypsies have always been horse-traders, and Albie’s affinity with horses strengthens his belief that he might have gypsy blood.

And for your little taste of Tenerife, here is a photo of the HOOPOE that I sometimes see on my walks. Don't you just love his fancy HEAD-DRESS?

GYPSY, GEORGE AND GUAZA MAN

   GYPSY When Albie’s mother abandons him she calls him a “gypsy brat” and tells him that her latest man friend doesn’t want him around. From that moment Albie is determined to find out if this was just another jibe or if he really does have Romany blood in his veins.

In the early 1900s the hop-fields and fruit farms of Kent, where my novel Helter-Skelter is set, are rich in travelling folk who, although they are still regarded with suspicion by the locals, are a necessary part of the labour force.

Meanwhile GEORGE & DOT SMITH become Albie’s parents by taking him into their home. George is a big, working class man – a patient grandfather who takes pity on the young waif Albie, and Dot is strong-willed but kind and motherly. She is a typical housewife of her era, who wears a wrap-over pinny all day, makes nourishing meals on very little money, and can’t stand bad behaviour. Come to think of it, she’s not unlike me – except for the apron!




As we drive home from Las Galletas, the fishing village a few kilometres away where we do our shopping and drink cafe con leche, we pass through GUAZA, where the mountain looks so like a recumbent figure that he is known as GUAZA MAN.

EAGLES AND EARTHQUAKES

   EAGLE – this was the symbol of THE ENEMY in 1940 - the Germans, who were naȉvely presumed to have been soundly thrashed in the First War. 

The thought that another generation of young men had to fight and die was horrific to their parents, yet the sound of a military band was enough to stir the heart of EDDIE, Bert’s younger brother, who volunteered and joined the army with him and Albie in my novel Helter-Skelter.. 

EIGHTEEN was officially old enough to fight, but Eddie was horribly homesick, with potentially disastrous results.

Can Albie's quick thinking and inherited instincts save him?

EL HIERRO is the smallest of the Canary Islands but, seismically speaking, the most active. In October 2011 an eruption started just off the south coast, forcing one entire village (La Restinga) to be evacuated due to toxic fumes and rocks exploding from the sea. It quietened down after a few months, but recently there has been a series of EASRTHQUAKES, including one of 4.9. 

The rash in the sea in this picture shows where they occurred. El Hierro is small enough to drive round in a morning - anyone fancy a holiday?

DUNKIRK

  DUNKIRK BEACHES, where Albie lies  half-conscious and dreaming about home in my novel Helter-Skelter, are described exhaustively by historians, which made my job of writing about them easy.

After that introductory chapter, my novel takes you back 15 years to the time Albie is remembering, and the story moves inevitably back to Dunkirk.

DIARIES  It is early in 1940 when Albie and his pal Bert cross the Channel as soldiers, but there is a dearth of information about those first months of World War 2. You can imagine my delight on discovering diaries on-line – real accounts written by actual soldiers about what happened to them. There was even a touch of humour here and there, and true incidents which I could adapt and work into Albie’s story.

The moral? Follow every thread, however tenuous – you never know when it might lead to treasure.

CORPORAL

CLOUDS covered Mount Teide went I went for my morning walk – not surprising after that wild windy night. I'm a tad weary today, too - when leaves the size of a man’s hand CLASH together they tend to wake me up! 

But I must stick with my blog theme – my novel Helter-Skelter, which I am re-writing this month alongside the A-Z challenge.

CORPORAL Albert Smith and the pitiful remains of his squad were heading for the coast, a scant hour ahead of the enemy, when Albie, from his seat in the cab beside Private Thompson, saw the helter-skelter. 

It was far off to the right, blackened and smoking rather than clean red and white stripes, but the truncated-cone shape was unmistakable. He clutched Thompson’s arm; “Tommy! Look at that – I don’t bloody believe it!”

 These are the opening lines of H-S. It is 1940, and the British Army is racing to reach Dunkirk before the Germans. Chapter two returns to 1925 and follows Albie growing up - I will give you more snippets of his story as we go along.