Sailing on the boat Lennon sailed

One of my most treasured memories of 2014 was a sailing trip in late September, aboard the Jubilee. This 43ft sloop was once known as the Megan Jaye - the sailing boat on which John Lennon voyaged to Bermuda in 1980.

The boat is still in immaculate condition 34 years later, and it is regularly sailed off the East Coast of the United States by its owners Stephen Fuller, a university professor, and his wife Susan.

The story of Lennon’s sailing adventure is told in the Lennon Bermuda book, which includes a chapter on what became of the boat. The Fullers subsequently invited Heather and I to come and see the Jubilee and take a short trip. That kind invite was fulfilled in the last few days of September when we joined the couple for a short excursion along the coast of Maine.

Given the time of year, we had been warned to expect possibly chilly weather. Instead we were greeted by horizon-to-horizon blue skies and the calmest ocean imaginable. The benign conditions meant there would be no unfurling of the sails, because there wasn’t a breath of wind to be caught. The Jubilee’s small engine was put into action and we motored at a steady six knots, initially weaving through tranquil waterways, where a seal would occasionally raise its head out of curiosity. Forests fringed the craggy coastline, and before long we were heading out into the ocean, charting a course southwards, staying about a mile or two from shore.

Out on the ocean all we had to do was steer a course to avoid the lobster pot buoys, feel a rush of excitement at spotting a passing dolphin or two, enjoy the perfect late summer weather, and reflect on what it must have been like for Lennon when he helped sail the boat 700 miles across the ocean to Bermuda.

Steve and Susan spoke about the pleasure they get from sailing the Jubilee and knowing that the famed musician also enjoyed an open-ocean experience on the boat. Every summer the couple sail between the Washington, DC area and Maine, and in the winter the boat is hauled out of the water and stored in a heated shed for protection.

A plaque on board commemorates the journey Lennon took in June 1980 when he, together with a crew of four, sailed from Newport, Rhode Island to St George, Bermuda. The boat encountered a fierce storm and the former Beatle steered alone for a number of hours as the captain, Hank Halsted, rested and the other crew members recovered from sea sickness. One of the songs Lennon later completed in Bermuda was the lullaby Beautiful Boy, which features the line “out on the ocean, sailing away”. The plaque inside the Jubilee mentions that of all the songs that were influenced by the voyage, Beautiful Boy perhaps best reflects Lennon’s “blue water sailing experience”.

Steve bought the Jubilee in 1997 and estimates he has sailed her 20,000 miles, going as far north as Cape Breton and also enjoying trips to the Caribbean. The boat was built by the Hinckley company in 1977 and was originally named Megan Jaye.

The Jubilee has had only a handful of owners, with the Fullers owning the sloop the longest. It was a year after he had purchased the boat that Steve discovered Lennon had once chartered her.
He feels a connection with the late musician through the shared sailing experience. Coincidently, he was born in 1940, the same year as Lennon, and sailed to St George in June 1980, on a different boat, arriving one week after the former Beatle. Like most people at the time, he had no idea the singer was on the island.

Lennon stayed in Bermuda until the end of July that year, working on songs that appeared on his final album Double Fantasy and the posthumous Milk and Honey. His sailing experience is credited, in part, with reawakening his creativity after a five-year period when he did not release any music.

“It gives me some psychic release and pleasure to know that he enjoyed and met some of his musical ambitions through his sailing journey,” said Steve.

“When I am sailing I experience the pleasure that he got. It gives me a better sense of who he was than if you only knew him through reading about his music or his causes. It shows me that those guys [The Beatles] wanted to enjoy a regular life. He got lucky to be away and to test himself. He grew. It was a reaffirmation of sailing and connectedness with the sea.

“I think about the pictures I've seen of him sitting on the boat. I've sailed with people who are famous, but they are not famous when they are sailing. We are all the same people out here.”

This summer, the boat's former captain, Hank Halsted, returned to Bermuda and visited the John Lennon sculpture in the Botanical Gardens, which commemorates his stay in Bermuda. Hank has been back on board the Jubilee in recent years and gave the Fullers an insight into what it was like during the trip to Bermuda with Lennon.

During our journey I wandered below deck, into the galley and the bed spaces beyond. I rested on the bed which has been identified as the berth Lennon took during his journey. I wanted to get a sense of what it would have been like on that 1980 voyage. On the wood panelling beside the berth is the plaque commemorating that trip. The only sound I was aware of was the quiet whisper of the boat gliding through the ocean. Turning, I looked around at the semi-darkness of the interior, the polished wood panels and a storm lantern gently rocking in a cradle on the opposite side of the cabin. It was hard to imagine a more peaceful spot to be.

The Fullers take great care of the sloop, and say they enjoy their own magical moments when sailing.

Susan said: “I miss it when we are not out on it. I feel 'transported' when we sail. I do not think about work or about family. I feel the wind, the waves and the night.

“It's sleek and beautiful. It embraces the water, especially when you have the sails up and the wind.

“The conversations you have on the boat are not day-to-day conversations. We have conversations that we never have any other time. I sleep better on the Jubilee than when I'm on land. There is a rhythm, you slow down, you don't rush around and every move is measured. You pay attention to more of the things around you. It becomes your world.”

Steve said: “It's about the journey. Getting from A to B is half the pleasure. You don't complain about things when you are out here.”

It felt as though the journey was over all too soon, yet we had been sailing for many hours, and had enjoyed an alfresco lunch on deck. Now we had reached our destination. The Jubilee would shortly be hauled from the water and stored safely indoors for the winter. It had been a magical experience, and we thanked the Fullers as we said our goodbyes.

There was an unexpected coda to our day a few hours later. Heather and I caught a bus service to Boston’s Logan International Airport from where we would connect with a hotel shuttle. We arrived and entered the terminal building to hear music playing on the public address system. The song being played was Lennon’s Beautiful Boy, and the line being sung … out on the ocean, sailing away.

Our day was complete.


Photos from the trip (a few of Lennon in 1980). Music: An instrumental version of Beautiful Boy

An update on Dolphin Girl

A new cover will be revealed soon

I haven't said anything about Dolphin Girl for a while, so here is an update. The novel is currently undergoing a second draft run-through. I've been making small changes, re-ordering chapters and scenes to achieve a more chronologically linear story, and generally ironing out typos and clunky grammar.

This has been progressing step-by-step for some time, although not as quickly as I had hoped. The reason for that is due to the demands of my day job, which at times have been daunting. As a consequence there has been little time or energy left some weeks to work through more than a page or two of Dolphin Girl.

The good news is a brighter dawn appears to have arrived and I'm now getting more opportunity to sit down and give the novel the focus and attention it deserves.

As part of the drafting process I’m fleshing out parts of the narrative that were previously on the fringe, but which I now recognise as a worthy part of the overall story arc. Doing so creates its own challenges as scenes are either expanded, or new ones added.

Presently, the second draft process is somewhere just beyond the halfway point, and Dolphin Girl is now likely to appear early in 2015.

A cover has been designed by a professional artist, which will be unveiled in the near future. For the moment my own basic working cover, created many moons ago, remains on show.

Stay tuned for news on Dolphin Girl in the coming months.

Pink Floyd's final spark of brightness

The cover art from Pink Floyd's The Endless River

Pink Floyd’s career trajectory resembles that of a comet blazing across the night sky and heading for a final encounter with the sun. It first gained luminance in the 1960s and glowed brightest in the 70s. In the same way that those enigmatic cosmic snowballs lose layers of material and shrink as they move ever nearer to the sun, so too have Pink Floyd gradually diminished in structure; first with the departure of Roger Waters in 1985, and then the death of Richard Wright in 2008.

The Endless River probably represents the final spark of brightness as Pink Floyd’s comet nears its terminal rendezvous. Shorn of Waters, devoid of lyrics (bar the final track Louder than Words), the double album must be viewed as the band’s swan song, albeit an accidental one.

At the heart of The Endless River are unused recordings made 21 years ago during rehearsal sessions by David Gilmour, Nick Mason and the late Wright as they worked on the band’s last studio album, 1994’s The Division Bell. In many ways the album is a tribute to the immense contribution keyboard player Wright made to the Pink Floyd sound. Gilmour and Mason revisited the instrumental recordings, a mixture of odds and ends, and have added to and enhanced them to create what Gilmour has referred to as a “21st Century Pink Floyd album”.

The instrumental music flows from track to track for 53 minutes. It is a concept album in an age where such things no longer exist. In a world of playlists and iPod shuffles, here is a record to be listened to from start to finish, designed as if the 33rpm vinyl LP had never fallen out of favour. An album designed to have the needle dropped on track one and left to play uninterrupted - preferably with the lights dimmed, or off, for maximum impact.

Across the four sides (yes, four) there are echoes of signature musical moments from the group’s extensive career. Tracks four on both side 2 and side 3, titled Anisina and Allons-y (1) are dreamily memorable, as is the album’s second track It’s What We Do, which most strongly carries Pink Floyd’s distinctive musical DNA.

On two tracks voice samples have been added; the intriguing opening track Things Left Unsaid, which could quite easily have been at home on any of Pink Floyd’s previous studio albums, and Talkin’ Hawkin’, a reprise of Keep Talking from The Division Bell complete with voice samples from physicist Stephen Hawking.

Whether The Endless River will be of interest to, or have any relevance for, today’s generation of young music consumers is debatable. There has been support for the record, which topped many countries’ charts in its opening week, likely due to older fans eager to hear anything ‘new’ from the band after two decades of silence - a silence broken only by the one-off reunion of Waters, Gilmour, Mason and Wright at Live8 in 2005.

When Gilmour gives voice to Louder Than Words, the floating, poignant last track on The Endless River, one is left to reflect on the crazy diamond musical journey Pink Floyd have taken us on, starting in 1967 with the now long departed co-founding member Syd Barrett, and onwards through the decades that followed. Listening to Pink Floyd’s back catalogue is to take a journey back through the last 40-odd years of your life.

As Louder than Words fades out the comet jettisons its final layer of ice and rock, and Pink Floyd are gone.

A salute to the man who swam with sharks

'Ocean Vet' Neil Burnie died as he free dived near one of the Bermuda's most popular beaches on Tuesday.

The veterinarian and musician touched many people's lives. His involvement with marine species was well documented in newspaper articles, lectures, and a major TV documentary series 'Ocean Vet' which had just wrapped up filming on the island.

Dr Burnie made Bermuda his home for more than 20 years. Here on the Island the loss of such a greatly respected and admired man has had an immense impact on the community, not only for those who knew him personally, but for the many others who read about his exploits or were fortunate enough to have seen the accomplished saxophonist and harmonica player perform on stage.

For many people it was his involvement with tiger sharks that will be the most abiding memory. Dr Burnie swam with the sharks, filmed them and carried out extensive research on their behaviour and migrations. He was their friend, their champion. He did much to increase people's understanding of the true nature of tiger sharks (see the video above of his TEDxBermuda talk).

His love of the sea extended far beyond sharks. He carried out research on a wide variety of marine species, he was also a fisherman and sailor.

On land he was a highly popular vet, and away from the world of animals he loved music and performed with his own blues band, Bones. He also often accompanied other musicians on stage where he added musical flourishes of harmonica, sax and occasionally vocals. It was in the musical arena that I came across Dr Burnie.

I can't remember if it was his prowess as a musician or his legend as a shark swimmer that I was made aware of first. However, I do recall being at the Bermuda Folk Club many years ago and being informed that I was in for a treat because Neil Burnie was due to perform. I wasn't disappointed. He was every bit as good as I'd been told - better even.

He played at the club once or twice each year, and I particularly remember two years ago when he accompanied American blues singer and guitarist Alice Stuart. I was impressed by the way he threaded his improvisations into her music without overpowering the songs.

During September's Peace Day concert in the Botanical Gardens he led his group Bones through a well received set of blues numbers in front of an estimated audience of 1,600.

His joy for life and his example of what it means to care for marine species and the animals around us is a legacy that will reverberate for a long time.

Out beyond the reef and across miles of ocean I wonder if the tiger sharks also sense that their great friend has gone and, in their own way, like many people in Bermuda, salute the man who swam among them.

For further reading here are links to a news article and a tribute article on Dr Burnie

Michael Cacy, Alice Stuart and Neil Burnie (right) perform at the Bermuda Folk Club in 2012

Storms wreck 'contemplation bench'

Above is the current state of the makeshift bench at Coney Island, the one I dubbed 'the secret bench' back in the summer of 2008 when I wrote about it in a Microdot Island newsletter.

Back then it was one of my favourite spots to go for some quiet time to sit and watch the ocean and contemplate ideas and life in general. It was there that I did a lot of my planning for Eating Clouds - including taking a photograph as I lay on my back on the bench (which is an old railway sleeper). The photograph was of clouds drifting across the blue sky directly above.
At that point I'd already decided on Eating Clouds as the title for the book and I needed an image for the cover. The photo I took that day was used on one early proof-only copy of the book, but was later replaced by Lucy Hollis' stunning panorama shot from John Smith's Bay.

I can still remember the wonderful, whispering sound of the breeze through the thin needle-like leaves of the tall casuarina tree that overlooked the bench, and to which the bench was secured by a rope.

In July 2008, this is how I described the spot: Living on a compact little island of 21 square miles means it isn’t the easiest thing to find some peace and quiet away from it all….unless you know the secret of Coney Island. This little dead-end hideaway, linked to the main island by a small bridge, is little more than a nature reserve in all but name. Here, tucked away behind some trees, is an old railway sleeper that doubles up as a bench on which a morning coffee, banana bread and the newspaper can be savoured while stretching out and gazing at unbroken views of the blue ocean, or lying on my back on the sleeper to watch clouds float by high above the branches of the casaurina tree that whistle softly against the breeze.

A picture of the bench as it looked in 2008, with my take-away coffee, banana bread and morning newspaper resting on top, can be seen at the bottom of this blog post.

For many years it was my place of choice to go for my morning coffee and relaxation, but I frequented it less in recent years in favour of another spot - a hillock that overlooked the ocean - closer to where I used to stay. Nevertheless, I still paid occasional visits to 'contemplation bench' when I wanted a little change of scenery, or to reconnect with the place.

Sadly, the storms that struck Bermuda this month have all but destroyed the bench. Tropical Storm Fay, which was a direct hit on the island (and many believe was as destructive as a fully-formed hurricane), toppled the casaurina tree to which the bench was attached. The bench looked pretty much finished at that point, but a few days later Hurricane Gonzalo also made a direct hit on the island and threw the toppled tree back up and over so it now faces the opposite direction. That additional damage further wrenched the earth from around the bench.

What will become of the bench? Nature may take its course and claw it back into the undergrowth; a parks department crew may tidy up and remove the fallen casaurina, or the toppled tree may be left where it fell and possibly become a new, natural bench over time.

Yesterday I visited the bench. As I sat there on the wreckage I hoped that the secret spot would recover and, in some shape or form, continue to be a secluded place where curious wanderers might stumble upon it and find they can comfortably sit and contemplate the world, as I did so many years ago.

Below: The bench in July 2008 (with coffee, banana bread and newspaper)

Book review: Indie Authors Naked

For a number of years the literary scene has been changing, thanks to the increasing ease with which writers can put their endeavours on the market and by-pass the traditional publishing route.

Now, there's a whole debate about whether this is a good or a bad thing. By-passing the middleman can also mean by-passing the filters of editors, proofreaders, agents and consultants who have traditionally acted as gatekeepers to the world of publishing.

And true enough there are indie authors who, before putting their work on the market, choose to purchase the services of freelance editors, etc, to bolster the quality of their work or help with marketing. But for all intents and purposes the burgeoning author-publisher scene is one where individuals can write and publish instantly through e-book avenues such as e-readers like Amazon's Kindle, print-on-demand publishing, or both.

There is a correlation between what is happening now in the world of publishing and what happened in the late 1970s when, during the punk and new wave era, independent music exploded in the UK. Back then numerous music artists who were unable to attract the interest of the major record label secured their own creative outlet, either through small, cottage industry-style independent record labels (The Police released their debut Fall Out on Illegal Records) or by totally self-financing their first recordings, such as Thomas Leer with Private Plane.

Today, we are witnessing an even more fundamental democratising of publishing, a process that has gathered substantial momentum in recent years. Authors are taking control of their output to a hitherto unheard of degree.

As for quality control, well yes, when you take out editors, proofreaders and such like, quality will fluctuate and reflect the writer's technical skills. But readers can quickly gauge things with pre-purchase 'look inside' sneak previews or, increasingly, limit their risk by opting for a free or cheap (99c) taster introduction to a new author-publisher.

If you want to find out what makes these author-publishers tick,Indie Authors Naked has some answers. It is a collection of essays and interviews with prominent and emerging talent within the self-publishing scene. It is important to note this book is not a 'how to be a successful indie author-publisher' manuel, although there are plenty of insights and tips worth mining within its 172 pages. It's an eclectic collection of interviews with writers across a broad spectrum of genres and disciplines, including authors of romance, science fiction, contemporary literature and erotica, to poets and even an independent bookstore operating an expresso indie book publishing machine.

The book's format is interesting. Each interview is prefaced with an introduction essay written by another writer, in some cases a traditionally published author, who either knows or has a connection with the interviewee. The interviews, conducted by editor Loren Kleinman, are presented in a highly readable question-and-answer style.

One of the featured writers is Orna Ross, who also wrote the foreword. She had two books published by Penguin in the mid-2000s, but was dismayed by the way her vision for the books as "page-turning fiction" with educated, inspired language, was viewed differently by the publishing house which, she says, squeezed and altered the work to fit a 'chick lit/love angle' interpretation. "Where I thought reader, they thought retailer," says Ross. When her first book came out, complete with pink cover, she said, "I hardly recognised it as mine."

The books were bestsellers, nevertheless Ross felt they did not reflect her intention. Then, a number of years later, and with the widespread availability of digital publishing, she re-acquired the rights to her books and republished them in the style she originally intended. Shortly afterwards she founded the Alliance of Independent Authors.

The interviews and essays in Indie Authors Naked highlight some of the best new indie writers, states author Amy Holman Edelman in the introduction. "Their books resonate with readers who really couldn't give a damn if they came through the hallowed halls of a traditional publisher or just via their e-readers."

While reading this book I found myself almost constantly checking out the new names I was coming across with internet searches of their work and successes. None more so than Hugh Howey, whose meteoric rise from a one-time bookstore employee earning an hourly-wage to star of indie publishing looks set to eclipse even the remarkable story of multi-millionaire indie author Amanda Hocking.

The essay introducing Howey is written by David Gatewood, who now helps edit Howey's work after sending him (at the time a complete stranger) a blunt e-mail with the subject line '163 errors in Wool', which referred to Howey's hit indie science-fiction novel Wool. The runaway success of the Wool series brought Howey to the attention of publishers Simon & Schuster, to whom he contracted the print-only distribution rights for a six-figure sum (keeping hold of the lucrative digital rights himself). Film-maker Ridley Scott has a film option on the series, and a graphic novel of the book has also been released.

In the three years since he self-published the original Wool story, Howey has become a New York Times, USA Today and Amazon bestseller. If the only thing I gleaned from Indie Authors Naked was an insight into the story of Howey, I would have been more than satisfied. However, there was a lot more.

One interview that particularly caught my attention was with Ted Heller, who could be described as a somewhat reluctant author-publisher. The son of Catch 22 author Joseph Heller, he has had three books released through a big US publishing house, garnering critical praise from the likes of the New York Times and Vanity Fair. But when sales failed to match the glowing reviews, the publisher passed on his next offering, and so Heller found himself taking the self-publishing route for his newest release West of Babylon.

It has been a humbling and frustrating experience for Heller. Kleinman asks him, "You're the son of novelist Joseph Heller, author of Catch 22. Blessing or a curse?" To which he replies, "I'll say it's been somewhat of a blurse."

Heller is bluntly honest. He refers to self-publishing as "Hell on Earth" and speaks of how it felt to stand in a post office sending out books to newspapers that might not even review books anymore, or ordering copies of his own book from Amazon UK to send to British newspapers in the hope of a review.

If you have the slightest curiosity or interest in the reshaping of the publishing landscape and the shift from old school to new world publishing, then I'd recommend Indie Authors Naked as a great starting place. The fairly short chapters, and the question and answer format, make it an easy read to pick up and put down when you have a spare moment. The book's genesis was a series of blog interviews from the IndieReader website. What you get in addition are insightful essay introductions, and the discovery of fresh up-and-coming voices in a brave new literary landscape.

Finally, New York Times bestselling memoirist and novelist Joni Rodgers, one of the essayists writing about the shift between old and new world publishing, had this to say. "The 'must read' books coming out of New York were becoming more homogenised and less satisfying, heavily influenced by a narrow ilk of editors who were shackled by the values system of a dying business model. I realised I wanted to read the work of writers: broad, fearless risk-takers dedicated to craft and beholden to no one."

Indie Authors Naked is published by IndieReader Publishing.

Farewell to the Bermuda Sun

And then there was one. One newspaper in Bermuda, that is.

When I first arrived there were three. But the global recession, coupled with falling revenues and changes in the way people, especially the young, acquire their news, sadly led to the closure of the weekly Mid Ocean News in 2010, and now the shuttering of the twice-weekly Bermuda Sun.

On Wednesdays and Fridays the routine was pretty much the same. In the morning I'd pick up a copy of the Bermuda Sun and retire for an hour to a comfortable seat, either outside on the patio enjoying the fresh air or, if it was too hot or too breezy, then indoors on the sofa in the lounge or in the quiet sanctuary of the den.

And there I'd sit and read the latest news from 'the competition'. It was always a treat, a small block of time when all other distractions were ushered from the mind to allow undivided attention to be given to the newspaper at hand, with coffee and chocolate chip cookie in the other.

Oh, the chocolate chip cookie. Well yes, a rare indulgence that always accompanied the ritual of flicking through the newspaper where I'd particularly enjoy the more offbeat, community-driven news, together with a raft of social opinions and commentary acting as a window on the patchwork of differing views and issues of the day.

When news broke that the Bermuda Sun was to close, it was sudden. The farewell edition of the 50-year-old newspaper rolled off the presses just a few days later.

Now, less than two weeks later, I am missing those twice-a-week relaxing mornings when I could quietly sip coffee, munch on a reward cookie and read what the island's other newspaper voice had to say. That voice is now silent.

Often, it is only when something we had taken for granted is gone that we truly appreciate what it meant to us and the pleasure it brought. The Bermuda Sun has set. My thoughts go out to those who lost their jobs. I salute all who worked there and did so much to make it an eagerly anticipated treat to read.

Why I won't be running far, or fast, in the summer heat

When each and every mile takes a minute longer than usual on a training run, that's a sure sign something is very much amiss. But not seeing such a dramatic freefall in performance at this time of year would actually be more concerning. Now that may appear like backwards logic, but stay with me.

Running becomes next to impossible in Bermuda during the height of summer. It is little wonder all competitive racing stops in July and August, and there is a considerable tapering of events in the months either side of the mid-summer hiatus.

With July temperatures hovering around the 29C to 30C range (around 87F) daily, and humidity upwards of 70 percent most days, simply staying hydrated can be a challenge without throwing outdoor exercise, particularly running, into the equation.

No racing is one thing, but that leaves the problem of how to maintain fitness and 'tick over' in the oppressive conditions until the cooler months return.

The key indicator each day, over and above the temperature and humidity, is the 'real feel'. This is what the outdoor conditions actually feel like when the air temperature, humidity, sunshine and breeze are all taken into consideration. So far this month that telltale indicator has landed daily round the 34C mark - and that is cause for caution and commonsense.

As the summer heat arrived I had happily trained without paying much notice of the 'real feel' figure creeping up. Then, in the final days of last month, it hit me. I'd already scaled back long runs to a more manageable 10 miles, given the rising heat. But even that proved to be a goal too far, as I discovered halfway into one Sunday long run. All seemed fine until I began slowing noticeably having run only five-and-a-half miles. That shouldn't have been happening. But I recognised the warning signs and quickly figured out the most direct, least hilly, route back home. Even so, it was a case of alternate running and walking on those few miles of retreat.

When the same thing happened four days later I knew it was time to limit all long run expeditions to no more than an hour, or thereabouts. My other sessions were limited to 45 minutes or less, and even these workouts up and down the dusty trailway, overlooking the tranquil waters of the north shore, became a battle of mind over matter simply to keep going at a pace that was a minute-a-mile slower than seven or eight weeks previously.

Mind over matter only goes so far. The body has built-in failsafes aimed at ensuring it doesn't overheat. When the 'real feel' conditions are 34C or 35C there is barely wriggle room for any exercise before the body's core temperature of 37C is placed in jeopardy. Raising the core temperature above its normal range by more than a few degrees for any extended period can lead to the body literally getting cooked from the inside out. Hence the body's natural reaction to cause you to slow your pace to a level where the transfer of heat, through blood being pumped to the skin's sweat glands - allowing heat to be dissipated through sweat, is kept at a manageable equilibrium. However, this cooling process is not nearly so effective when high humidity prevents sweat from evaporating.

Which brings me back to the days of 70 percent plus humidity and 'real feel' figures of 34C (and above on some days) that are the norm for the summer.

It may not appear rewarding writing down paltry mileage and somewhat laughable times in the training diary, but the steamroller heat of summer demands no heroics, just commonsense.

However, there are rewards, and none more delicious than an ice cold drink from the refrigerator at the end of run.

A useful writing tip

A writer can often become so closely involved in their work that they forgot to step back and take in the bigger picture. An analogy would be a painter or artist engrossed in the details of their latest piece failing to take a few backward steps from the canvas to view the totality of their endeavour.

A writer who doesn't take those metaphorical backward steps to view the bigger picture is missing out on an element of the creative process worth its weight in gold.

I'm currently putting the finishing touches to an expanded version of Dolphin Girl, including an ending that continues beyond that of the original short novel featured in 2008's Eating Clouds.

At the same time I've come up with a blurb to feature on the back of the book. A blurb is the few paragraphs on the back cover that effectively 'sell' the story to a reader. An effective blurb entices and intrigues a potential reader, but equally importantly accurately reflects what the book, and its story, offer.

A reader will soon become disgruntled if they don't find what they expected to find as a result of the blurb. Worse case scenario, a colossal asteroid slams into the Earth. Second worse case scenario, the reader feels conned by the misleading blurb and in future avoids your books.

Dolphin Girl was included at the back of the original Lulu version of Eating Clouds and so never had it own blurb. Now that it is to be a stand-alone novel, it does. That has entailed some contemplation of what exactly the story is about. And as I have gone through this process, and it can take quite a few hours, it has brought clarity into my mind about what the story sets out to portray. In doing so, it has prompted ideas on how to streamline and better highlight the overarching themes.

As I go through the book, tweaking and reordering a few things and adding some new scenes, the process has been made easier knowing exactly what needs to be achieved through the characters and events.

A well-crafted blurb can be a hugely useful blueprint or roadmap to guide a writer through the story arc they are creating.

I've come to the blurb very close to the end of the story-writing process for Dolphin Girl, but I can certainly see the value in having such a guide earlier in the day, perhaps even at the outset.

And, if you want to supercharge the whole thing, pull yourself away from the story-writing and compose both a blurb and a half-page synopsis. A synopsis is a more structured and detailed blueprint of the story.

With a blurb and a synopsis in hand a writer can confidently set forth to tell a tale and avoid getting snagged, and perhaps even lost, in the undergrowth that hides in the woods and forest of the imagination.

Hey director, leave those films alone

They're great movies. Classics of their era. So why did the directors who made these masterpieces decide to tweak and alter them 20 or 30 years later?

If the changes had made the movies better I'd understand, but in the case of the original 'Star Wars' trilogy and the gritty, 1979 cut of 'The Warriors', the subsequent re-imaging has resulted in far inferior viewing experiences.

I have great admiration for both George Lucas ('Star Wars'), pictured below, and Walter Hill ('The Warriors'), two exceptional talents. But I'm mystified by their motivation for tinkering with some of their best work to make director's cuts that are best consigned to the nearest trash can in favour of the originals.

Many others have commented on these director's cut, take a look around on the internet and YouTube to see what has been said. In the case of the original 'Star Wars' trilogy the changes are mostly computer generated animations splashed across the screen that alter the tone of the movies and, quite frankly, clutter up the clarity of the stories. With Hill's director's cut of 'The Warriors' the inclusion of cartoon-cutsy transitions between scenes completely jars with the compelling realism and darkness of the 1979 version.

Sure, there is a place for revisiting creative works and improving upon them. My favourite poet William Butler Yeats did so with great success, and the evolution of the song 'Saints and Angels' by the music group The Waterboys, from its mid-1980s original to its early 2000s incarnation, with notably developed lyrics, are testament to how artistic works can rise to a new level when reworked by their original creators.

Returning to movies I would add Ridley Scott's director's cut of 'Blade Runner' to the list of artistic works enhanced by a slight re-imaging.

The big danger comes when the re-working is done on a creative work that has already proven to be massively popular in its original format. Anyone who tinkers with such is doing so at great peril.

Of course, you pays your money and you takes your choice. Except in the case of 'Star Wars' and 'The Warriors' you can't. If Lucas and Hill are saying, 'Hey, this is what I intended the movie to be originally' and leave the viewer with the option of watching the original or their re-worked alternative, then fine. Alas, that is not the case. It is practically impossible to lay your hands on unaltered versions of the original 'Star Wars' trilogy, likewise copies of the 1979 original of 'The Warriors' are no longer produced, having been superseded by the director's cut. Both directors have taken a deliberate and strong line, arguing that their director's cuts are the definitive versions and the originals should be removed permanently from public consumption.

The first 'Star Wars' movie, released in 1977, is unquestionably one of the biggest landmark cinematic releases of the 20th century. Yet today the public are unable to purchase or view this iconic film in its original, un-tweaked glory.

Similarly, if you want to see 'The Warriors' as it appeared in 1979 you'll have to scour second-hand shops or online sales sites to get one of the pre-director's cut releases. It's becoming scarcer, but it's worth the effort.

So what can be done? Ultimately, it boils down to a simple request. To slightly misquote the lyrics of a Pink Floyd song, 'Hey director, leave those films alone'.

Giving thanks to old friends

This is one of my favourite college days photographs. It was taken 19 years ago at LA Pierce College and shows myself and nine fellow students from England's Barnsley College who studied at the California institution for a semester.

I came across it today. It was one of the images I scanned from an old negative. For an hour or so I worked my way through a dozen negatives, turning them into digital files. I was doing this both for prosperity and to make it easier to save them in places where they will, hopefully, never be lost.

So it was saving history in a way, although more a personal history than anything of historic value to the wider world. But important to me.

These old pictures remind me of the younger version of myself, and of those I shared those far-flung days with. We were a tight-knit group. We studied at Barnsley College and so knew one another from classes there and from socialising. When we were chosen as the group of ten to pioneer a link-up with the Los Angeles college, we became closer still. Our lodgings were two adjacent apartments at a nearby university complex, so in a way it was our own mini-fraternity set-up, or as close as ten UK students would ever get to one.

This picture was taken on the football field at the college, and we are smiling and relaxed. That's what I like most. It instantly brings back emotions and feelings from that day, and from those months under the California sun.

I believe I may have said this before, but when I gaze upon these pictures I am overcome by a desire to be able to step into them and live the moment again. Or to be a casual observer walking up to the group to meet them.

Would it be that time could twist or rabbit-hole in such a way to make that possible. A flight of fancy, I know.

I look upon the younger me, and the younger others, and I consider myself fortunate to have experienced those moments.

Time moves quickly and it can be all too easy to forget to stop and appreciate what we have here and now. Then, one day, we end up looking at pictures that are 19 years old and only then truly appreciate those friendships and experiences. Life is, indeed, what happens to you while you are busy making other plans.

As I look at my college friends I remember Beryl, who is no longer here, and I honour her endearing friendship. To the others, I wish them well wherever they are.

Take the time today to look around at all that you are doing, and all the friends in your life and give thanks. For before you know it they will be fondly recalled images in the scrapbook of your life.

A weekend with astronauts

The world's two most senior surviving moonwalkers, Buzz Aldrin and Alan Bean, the second and fourth men respectively to walk on the surface of the moon, were the big names from the Apollo lunar landings who came to London for the Autographica event in March.

Four crew members from various space shuttle missions were among other guests at the event a mile from Heathrow airport. It made for an interesting gathering in which stories about the Nasa space programme were recollected by those who had actually taken part in the missions.

At the Saturday evening formal dinner Aldrin was seated at the adjacent table. He got up to give a short talk on the future of space exploration, the start of his talk is featured in the video above.

Aldrin went on to speak about his vision for the colonisation of Mars, and he likened it to the pilgrim fathers aboard the Mayflower sailing ship in 1620 who left England and reached what is present day Plymouth, in Massachusetts, to establish the second English settlement in North America. Just as they had not waited to get a ship back to England, so the eventual first colonisers of Mars will not seek a return journey to Earth, Aldrin predicted.

Looking back over almost 50 years since the lunar landing programme it is important to remember that such great achievements were made with technology that would be labelled archaic in today's world, and how astronauts in that earlier era completed missions that would, in all likelihood have been aborted nowadays.

We were reminded of this during the course of the weekend as stories were told. Space Shuttle astronaut Bruce McCandless, who also speaks in the above video, was working at mission control during the Apollo programme and was one of the key contacts for Apollo XI astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin during their landmark first landing on the moon.

At Saturday evening's dinner McCandless recounted the launch of the follow-up Apollo XII mission, which included among the crew fellow guest Alan Bean. As the Saturn V rocket soared upwards through the Earth's atmosphere it was hit by either lightning or a self-induced electrical discharge. "They lost all power to the command module," said McCandless. "The computer in the Saturn V redundant for the very first time, so they switched over to the back-up computer and they kept on flying. It was Alan Bean who painstakingly restored power to the command module, brought the fuel cells back online and shortly thereafter they made it successfully into orbit, aligned the platform, got a go to proceed to the moon and had a very successful mission.

"And I think that in today's environment we have probably become so risk adverse that had we had a similar incident with the shuttle we would have insisted on immediately terminating the mission and coming home. It's a real tribute to Alan and Pete Conrad and Dick Gordon that they were able to salvage the mission even after a near catastrophe like this."

On the earlier Apollo XI mission that ultimately put Armstrong and Aldrin on the moon's surface there were a few touch-and-go moments. As Armstrong piloted the lunar module towards the moon's surface and its designated landing site it became increasingly clear that the chosen site was strewn with more rocks and boulders than had been anticipated.

Armstrong skillfully avoided the unfavourable terrain and headed for a smoother area in the Sea of Tranquility, however an alarm was activated inside the landing module indicating a critically low level of propellent to fly the craft. The two astronauts held their nerve and despite having an apparently depleted propellent tank continued to the favoured landing spot. The Eagle landed and Armstrong and Aldrin made their historic moonwalks on July 20, 1969.

It was later discovered the module had slightly more landing propellent than the indicator had registered, an estimated 30 to 45 seconds' worth. The 'sloshing' of the propellent inside the tank had resulted in the premature activation of the alarm. It was a fault that would be remedied after the follow-up Apollo XII mission a few months later.

At 84, Aldrin is remarkably active and sprightly. His popularity at the event was evident as he signed autographs and posed for pictures, never appearing overwhelmed or tired. He used a selection of felt-tipped pens to sign autographs, something that was instructive of another incident on that maiden moon landing.

After returning to the lunar module having walked on the moon's surface, Aldrin and Armstrong faced a potential hazard that placed a question mark over whether they would be able to lift off to rejoin Columbia, the lunar orbiter being piloted by Michael Collins, and head back to Earth. Aldrin noticed a broken circuit switch on the floor of the module. It was the switch that was needed to activate the ascent engine to lift off from the moon. Mission control was informed of the problem. After a short sleep, and with no solution forthcoming from mission control, Aldrin took a felt-tipped pen from a pocket on his spacesuit and placed it into the opening where the broken switch should have been. The pen fitted and worked as a makeshift circuit-breaker allowing the module to lift off.

Of all the lectures given by the guests during the weekend Alan Bean, the fourth man to walk on the moon, was the best attended. Indeed, the organisers noted it was a bigger lecture audience than they had seen at any of the previous 19 Autographica events. Bean described how he had gone on to forge a career as an artist, painting space mission scenes and striving for accuracy, which brought him to a story about his painting of Neil Armstrong on the moon.

The painting was among those exhibited at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, Washington DC, in 2009 to mark the 40th anniversary of the moon landings. In attendance were many Apollo mission veterans, including Armstrong. One of the guests studied Bean's painting and spotted Armstrong was portrayed wearing a wristwatch. The guest wasn't convinced that Armstrong had worn his watch on the moon's surface and said so to Bean, who was caught off guard by the observation and wondered if he had got the detail wrong. Bean suggested the guest go and find Armstrong, who was elsewhere in the museum, and ask him if he had been wearing a watch.

It should be pointed out here that there are very few photographs of Armstrong on the moon because he was the one issued with the camera during the mission. As a result most of the iconic moon landing photos show colleague Aldrin on the surface. There is one full-body picture of Armstrong on the moon, however, he has his back to the camera and it is not clear if he is wearing his watch or not.

The inquiring guest tracked down Armstrong and asked him about Bean's painting and whether or not he had worn a wristwatch on the moon's surface. Armstrong said, "Has Alan painted me wearing one?" The reply was "Yes," to which Armstrong responded, "Well, that's how it was." It was a good answer, but it wasn't how it had been on the moon. In reality Armstrong had taken off his watch and left it inside the lunar module as a back-up because the onboard mission timer was not working. Many months later, having researched the facts himself, Bean painted out the watch from the portrait.

At the Saturday evening dinner five-times astronaut and space shuttle commander Robert 'Hoot' Gibson was at the same table as Heather and I. He happily talked about his experiences and answered questions. I asked what it was like to experience the fiery descent back through the atmosphere on the return to Earth. He described the glowing flames that filled the view outside the windows, and how the crew prepared for the increasing heat inside the shuttle by reducing the interior temperature considerably in the two hours immediately prior to re-entry.

Hurtling back to Earth at Mach 25 (that's 25 times the speed of sound) also meant a great deal of braking and slowing was required to execute a safe, unpowered landing. 'Hoot' explained how, as the shuttle decelerated from supersonic speeds to subsonic (going below Mach 1, or 760 miles per hour), the sonic shock wave trailing the craft caught up and, starting from the rear of the shuttle, moved through the fuselage and up to the front where the flight deck cabin would momentarily shake and vibrate.

'Hoot' is a talented photographer and took some stunning pictures of fellow shuttle astronaut Bruce McCandless during his historic, first untethered space walk in 1984. 'Hoot' and his wife Rhea Seddon, another shuttle astronaut, were both at the Autographica event and gave joint lectures about their space missions, which included a selection of family photos taken by 'Hoot' of their youngest child standing in the desert at the Edwards Air Force Base, California, watching as a space shuttle, with his mother a crew member onboard, came in to land.

All in all it was a far more interesting and enjoyable weekend than I had anticipated, from the excitement of seeing Buzz Aldrin for the first time as he stood on a light bridge in the hotel's atrium at a low-key pre-event drinks reception, where he spoke to a number of attendees, to the moment a few days later when an excited dad was speaking to his son overseas via a video link on a tablet device and asked Aldrin, who was walking past, if he would greet his son. Aldrin obliged with a salute into the tablet's webcam.

Shaking hands with Aldrin was a personal highlight, as was dinner in the company of 'Hoot' Gibson. But there were plenty of memorable offbeat moments, such as astronaut Bruce McCandless light-heartedly noting during the dinner event that if NASA had had someone with as much glamour as 'Space 1999' actress Barbara Bain as a real life astronaut (Ms Bain was one of the weekend guests) there probably would not have been any space programme funding cutbacks.

Ms Bain was one of a number of stars from film and TV among the event guests. As Buzz Aldrin spoke at the dinner, listening from tables a little further back in the room were 'Star Wars' actors Dave Prowse (Darth Vader) and Kenny Baker (R2D2).

Of the movie and TV guests I hope to write more. For now I end with a salute to the astronauts who attended the London gathering; Buzz Aldrin, Alan Bean, Robert 'Hoot' Gibson, Bruce McCandless, Rhea Seddon and Greg H Johnson.

'The Magic Lake' from 26 years ago

Although I have to pinch myself to fully believe so much time has elapsed, it is 26 years since this small excerpt from a planned novel I was working on found its way into a small science fiction and fantasy fanzine in West Australia.

At the time I was breaking loose and exploring the world - or more accurately the vast island continent of Australia - as a backpacking 21-year-old. It was early 1988 and the previous year I had put together the short-run paperback Inspired, featuring a selection of five writers and poets of which I was one.

As I travelled through West Australia I'd planned to complete a fantasy novel and in the first few months did some work towards that goal. When I came across a small fanzine called WAFTAM, with a unicorn on the cover, I recognised a moment of serendipity as my work-in-progress novel was centered around unicorns. I sent a short contribution to the publication.

The fanzine editor duly published my work in the next edition of the fanzine, which was also renamed WOFTAM. Although this writing project never fully matured, here for posterity is a snapshot of my writing from 26 years ago, as published in issue one of the WOFTAM fanzine, in Perth, West Australia in March 1988:

THE MAGIC LAKE

Jarrad looked up to see the rain clouds had parted and a full moon was shining brightly in the night sky. However, what was even stranger were the horses. He noticed they were all outside the cave, standing perfectly still and silent. Their gaze seemed to be fixed distantly on the lake, as was Melinda's. The strange harp-like music, although still distant, was much more noticeable.

"What is it?" he asked, bewildered.

"Look at the lake," Melinda pointed. "Do you see the moon's reflection?"

"Yes, what about it ... Hey! It's moving, and it's changing shape," Jarrad checked himself and looked back up at the moon. Indeed, the moon had not changed. It was still the same uniform circle of brightness, unobscured by any night clouds.

That being so, thought Jarrad, then the reflection on the lake should also be a clear, circular patch of light. He looked back at the lake. It wasn't.

Jarrad was thinking up his next question when Breeze, the king's fair-haired daughter answered it.

"A unicorn," she spoke in a hushed tone. "It's a unicorn."

Jarrad blinked, looking once more at the blurry ball of light which seemed to be skating across the lake's surface. Indeed, now that he came to think about it, it did resemble a unicorn.

"A real unicorn?" he blurted out. Melinda turned, a dreamy contentment etched on her face.

"The horses believe it to be real. That is why they stand so silently, with such reverence. The night owls are silent now. All the other nocturnal animals are quiet. They can all hear the music, and all see the unicorn on the lake," she said. She smiled at Jarrad, then turned again to the lake. "But it is not a real unicorn, unfortunately. It is merely an illusion created by the magic lake. The magic which tonight's full moon has activated."

Shirley Temple sails away

Shirley Temple has sailed away on the Good Ship Lollipop. She is a name from a far away era, but also a timeless ray of sunshine to the world captured and preserved, as though in amber, as a child of joy reflecting innocence and wonder for the world.

Her star was at its zenith more than 70 years ago when she topped the US Box Office list from 1934 to 1938, all while less than 10 years old.

She appeared in her last feature film in 1949, but went on to live a full life, with television appearances and then a career as an ambassador.

And of course, there is the non-alcoholic cocktail that bears her name and has been around since her hey-day.

Her passing at 85 was a moment to recall the joyful films she made in the 1930s. It was the time of the Great Depression. Shirley Temple was the perfect antidote to lift the spirits of a nation (and the world). She had fresh-faced optimism and the energy of a youngster filled with wonder, hope and belief for the promise of future days.

Growing up, I recall watching Shirley Temple's films when they were shown on television as schedule 'fillers' - usually early afternoon matinees when audience figures were traditionally low. Their feel-good factor never diminished.

Waves of nostalgia caress the gentle sands of my mind when I watch films from that golden era. I hanker after the silver screen's simpler world, where people and lives appear more straightforward, where common pleasantries were indeed commonplace, and where life's wholesomeness is exuded most everywhere you looked.

Today, each time I watch young Shirley sing 'On The Good Ship, Lollipop' from the film 'Bright Eyes' (1934), I'm transported back to those happy, long ago days. So here is my salute the child star who will forever be remembered as the knee-high ray of sunshine that brightened the world. Shine on, Shirley.