TOMMY TIPPETT - THE FIRST 1800 WORDS

Here you are the first 1800 words of my book, Tommy Tippett (I still haven't got a decent title). Almost finished the edit and it will then be ready for the next stage.


Any comments, advice or direction would be appreciated.

Tommy Tippett is a little bastard! This wasn’t Tommie’s opinion but those of some of the boys at his school and up until a few days ago Tommy didn’t even know what a bastard was. If he had to hazard a guess at the words meaning he would have to say it meant a small boy with curly hair. That made sense because that is exactly what Tommy was.

So Tommy went to the one person he could always rely on to give him good advice and the meaning of things………his grandfather.
“Granddad what’s a bastard?” Tommy posed this question to his grandfather who was sitting back on the long lounge chair reading the racing pages of the newspaper.

Granddad lay the paper down on his lap and looked over the top of his glasses. “Isn’t it one of those birds, you know the ones that look like vultures and live in Africa? Granddad looked at Tommy hopefully to see whether this answer would suffice.

Tommy thought about this for a while. He knew that granddad was a notorious practical joker and tended to tell as many untruths as truths so Tommy always had to think long and hard before he accepted any answer from granddad. He didn’t really think the boys at school would be calling him after a bird that lived in Africa.


Tommy gave his grandfather a smile. “No it’s not granddad.”


“Oh, maybe your right. Let me think on that for a moment.” Granddad started to massage his chin deep in thought. “Perhaps it means you’re a little boy who hasn’t got a father.” Granddad looked at Tommy with a set of bushy, raised eyebrows that relayed their owner’s sincerity.

“Really?”


“Absolutely! Would your granddad lie to you?” Granddad gave Tommy a sad and forlorn look of hurt.

“Yes.”


“Well sometimes my stories get a little mixed up but not this time. No go on off you go and do something and leave your granddad alone he’s trying to find a few winners at Randwick tomorrow.” Granddad picked his paper up from his lap, gave it a vigourous shake and went back to reading the form guide.


Tommy wandered off deep in thought. Armed with the knowledge of what bastard meant Tommy wasn’t sure if the boys in the playground were being nice or nasty. So what, he didn’t have a father, it wasn’t such a big deal to Tommy.
Tommy was about to give this problem some more serious thought when he caught a a flash of movement toward the back of the house. “Ace,” he called. Not sharply or authoritvely just his normal tone. “Come here boy,” and around the corner trotted a huge German Shepherd dog his tail wagging furiously. The dog trotted up to Tommy and pranced and dipped around him excitedly.
“That’a boy Acey.” Tommy could never resist wrapping his arms around the dog whenever he was near. People used to call Ace a bear or a lion he was so big.


He was black and gold. The black was like dark licorice and the gold looked like the sun when it disappears over the horizon after a long, hot summer’s day. The dog’s paws were oversized, more like the hoof of a horse than a dog’s paw.


Tommy knew because of Ace’s size most people were scared of him but they didn’t know what he was like. Mum called him a big pussycat, whilst Tommie’s granddad called him a big buffoon though Tommy didn’t think he looked at all like a monkey but that was just granddad coming out with another of his curious sayings or observations.


Tommy let go of Ace and the dog sat and looked expectantly at Tommy. Even sitting Ace was as tall as Tommy so they looked each other squarely in the eye.


“Ace do you know that I am a little bastard?” The dog slobbered and looked at the boy adoringly. “Well I am. It means I haven’t got a dad, but I don’t care.” He gave the dog a hug and sat back to think some more.
What bothered him about the comment was not the bastard part; no what bothered him was being called little. He wasn’t that small at all he was about the right size he though for a six year old boy.


Tommy thought that there wasn’t really all that much special about him at all except for his mop of curly, golden hair. A ragged mop that lay tangled and twisted across his head. No amount of combing or hair oil could keep this hairy rabble of curls in place. As soon as a comb was applied to Tommie’s hair one of two things normally happened, either the teeth of comb broke or the combed hair would flatten for an instant before springing back to life and doing what it wanted to do.

He did remember his mother saying that she liked his eyes. She said that Tommie’s eyes were as bright blue as the outback sky on the sunniest of days and when she looked into her son’s eyes she could see fun and laughter and just a smidgen of mischief and adventure. She said the brightness in his eyes that could be spotted on even the darkest of nights.


“Like a cat?” Tommy asked his mother.


“Well something like that,” she answered.


His mother said that it wasn’t the sort of brightness that shone in the dark like spotlights. It was she said more about the brightness of a good soul filled with imagination and the joy of life.


Tommy looked at his dog. “Ace I remember mum telling me that I had a dad once, but he went away. I can’t remember where he went though.” A perplexed look had come over Tommie’s face as he tried to think where his father had gone. Ace, sensing that something was making Tommy feel uneasy plonked a huge, hairy paw on his lap in dog sympathy.


Tommy tried and tried to formulate a memory of his father, but nothing would come. He knew he would have to try even harder if he was to remember and to do this he would have to lie down and close his eyes as this always helped him think.


Tommy stood up and moved into the lounge room to see if granddad was still lying on the old, battered lounge. He was gone, though the outline of his body was still imprinted on the threadbare, burgundy fabric.
Tommy plopped himself down on the lounge, laid back and closed his eyes to facilitate thoughts and memory. Ace laid on the carpet beside the lounge, positioned in such a way that he could rest his big head on his paws but still see Tommy.


It took a little while for Tommy to get into the right thinking position on the lounge which was still warm from granddad’s body. Random thoughts fluttered through Tommie’s mind as he closed his eyes. A thought about a coveted slingshot that he wanted and then another thought about what they were going to have for dinner.


He decided that it was very comfortable lying here on the big lounge. It was a piece of furniture that he had always liked because it was sturdy and secure and allowed him a prime vantage point to watch his favorite television shows.


But probably the best thing that he liked about the lounge was top secret. It was a secret that he had only shared with Ace, the one person, or dog he could trust with such information.


Just by chance Tommy had discovered that if you pull off the lounge seats and poke your hand down the back of the lounge you sometimes find money. Sometimes you find things that were better left undiscovered.


Tommy actually felt a little guilty about this treasure trove and on a particular day when he found a handful of shinny coins behind the lounge he was almost tempted to tell his Mother about his good fortune but at the last moment he decided not to. His mother had more than enough to worry about and surely didn’t want to know about a money producing lounge chair.


Tommy thought long and hard about this money and pondered on where it came from.


Perhaps, he thought it was the place where the tooth fairy stashed all of its cash. It made sense to Tommy, tooth fairies were pretty small and they wouldn’t want to fly around carrying loads of heavy coins so they would hide it somewhere.
Of course this presented Tommy with a morality problem.
What would happen to him if he was caught stealing tooth fairy money? Would he never again receive money from the tooth fairy or would something worse happen. Perhaps a tooth fairy had magical powers that could turn Tommy into a bug or perhaps a girl.

He was so worried about this possible outcome that he nearly put all the money back. At the last moment he decided not to as he figured out that tooth fairies are incredibly smart and would surely find a better hiding place than behind an old lounge. This all made complete sense to Tommy.


So if tooth fairies were not responsible for leaving the money, who was?


So after a lot of thought and regular consultations with Ace he decided that the money came from farts. Tommy had once heard a grown up say, “he was so scared that he shit bricks.”
So if a grownup can shit bricks surely they can fart coins?


Actually he had seen his granddad sitting on the lounge and from time to time he would raise his backside a little on one side and let out a fart. Now sometimes the fart was over in an instant with no more than a tweeting sound that was hard to hear.

Tommy thought that that little fart was probably granddad creating a small coin like a thrupence or a sixpence. But sometimes granddad lifted his backside and let out a long, loud thunderous fart that sounded like a roll of thunder. This would be the time that granddad was farting out a bigger coin like a shilling or a two shilling piece.

Unfortunately granddad didn’t sit on the lounge very often and was very careful about his farting because if Tommie’s Mum caught him she would growl at him and say things like, “Dad that’s disgusting, or “you dirty old man, not in front of Tommy.”


But Tommy didn’t mind at all, as now he realized that granddad’s farting lead to coins being deposited behind the lounge.


Tommy often wondered if it was only his granddad that could fart coins, or if all adults could do it. Tommy would have liked to ask his mother but he didn’t dare because his mother had very strict rules about farting protocols.


She stated that you shouldn’t fart at all and if you had to you should leave the room, the house and if possible the very street in which they lived. Of course, ladies didn’t fart. According to Tommie’s mum it was only men and small boys who farted though Tommy was sure that he had heard girls at school farting but couldn’t be sure.

EDITING TOMMY TIPPETT

I finished the edit of my book Tommy Tippett on Friday and what a slog it was. I certainly preferred writing the book rather than editing it. My next task was going to be to format the book and get it into shape enough to have a beta reader or some other assessment made of the story.

As part of that process I started to re-read the first chapter and realised that it just didn't work. I am happy with parts of it but not the sum total. Having the dog, Ace narrating parts of the chapter doesn't gel so I will have to come up with a new begining which is a real embuggerance as I really want to get the story 'out there' to find out what people think about it.

Hopefully it will take but a few days to tweak the story and get it back on track.

I also have to get a title for the book and . I  Admit that I have been really slack and haven't given much thought to naming the book as nothing has really sprung out at me so it is something else I will have to give some thought to.

So still a little ways to go before I start shopping the query letter around to prospective literary agents.

If anyone reading this would be interested in reading some or perhaps all of Tommy Tippett, drop me a quick note and we can go from there.

akmacca08@live.com.au

Buffalo Billabong (cont)

I turned the 4wd toward the billabong and pulled up near the waters edge. Thirty metres away stood a juvenile, male water buffalo. Juvenile he may have been but he was still one big unit. He probably weighed around 300-350 kilos and stood around 180cm tall at his head. A set of fierce looking horns crowned his head. Each horn was around 30cm in length.

Now seeing a water buffalo standing in a billabong isn't that strange at all, actually it is relatively common in the Northern Territory. What set this buffalo apart was the fishing net he had wrapped around his head and horns. Now this wasn't the light fishing net you see weekend fisherman using but a costly, commercial grade fishing net that would have been lost from a fishing trawler.

The buffalo on hearing our vehicle and voices thrashed around in the water and turned toward the noise. Every now and again he would let out a bellow that really didn't have much ooomph to it. There was no telling how long that buff had been in the water struggling to get the net off. Tendrils of the net cascaded down either side of the buffalo and into the murky water. The net in its entirety must have been 10 metres long.

Everyone poured out of the vehicles and stood looking at the struggling beast. What should we do became the topic of conversation. One of the Aboriginal's said he wished he had his rifle as a young buffalo is good tucker. Someone else suggested we just leave the buff and let nature take its course. He said that there is probably a big crocodile lurking and waiting for the buffalo to tire itself out and when that happens it will strike.

But the general consensus was that we had to try and do something.

I suggested that I drive my car around to the opposite side of the billabong and try to herd the animal ashore. What we would do then, who knows?

I took off around the billabong and approached the water buffalo from the opposite direction, the buffalo was close to this bank, probably 10 metres away. As I came to a stop the buffalo turned to face me.

I got out of the vehicle and stood on the bank facing the group on the other side. The buffalo snorted and shook his head violently trying once again to rid himself of the net. His actions had no effect whatsoever.

"See if you can grab the net and pull him towards you," shouted someone from the opposite bank. Great advice, thanks that's exactly what I wanted to do, wade into a murky billabong and haul on a heavy fishing net that had a buffalo on the end of it.

"If you grab one end of the net, I'll wade across and grab the other and see what happens," Barry shout across the water. What a brave soul and a public servant to boot.

"Shit." I said to myself as my companion started to wade across the billabong. If I didn't do my part I would look like a real coward. As often happens in life the chance of shame overcame fear, so I took four or so strides through the water to reach the net. The buffalo must have seen this through a haze of thick fishing line and moved towards me.

"Damn!" Shouldn't I cut and run back to my car, afterall I was a government employee and this wasn't in my job description.

But as often happens in such situations, things just happen. Before I even realized what I was doing I had grabbed the buffalo by the horns. He shook his head and almost threw me off my feet. I was starting to wonder how good the government medical compensation package really was when Barry grabbed onto the opposite horn.

The buffalo hadn't seen this one coming and now he had a human hanging off either horn and a heavy fishing net over his head.  It just wasn't his day it appeared!

Barry and I then went on a merry dance as the buffalo tossed his head and frantically bucked. Thankfully he headed for the bank instead of going back into the billabong as I was still worried about a lurking croc.

Around and around we went, neither the buffalo or human getting an advantage. Once or twice either Barry or I lost our grip or were tossed aside only to quickly regain our feet to rejoin the fray. As fate would have it the buffalo was bought down by a slice of luck. It tripped. Simple as that. Somehow the buffalo's rear legs and my legs got tangled and it fell to the ground. In an instant Barry and I were on top of it.

It was now a matter of who was the most buggered by the wrestle, the buffalo or us.

One of the Aboriginals shouted across the billabong, "grab his tail and pull it towards you." I was the one who was furthest down the buffalo's flank so I reached back grabbed the tail and yanked it toward his head. The buffalo let out a bellow and shook his head a horn grazing Barry's arm.

"Hold onto the tail, don't let it go." Barry shouted. I had no intention of letting the tail go, the alternative was a mad buffalo and the safety of a vehicle that was 30 metres away.

All three of us lay there panting on the edge of the billabong, covered in mud with flies buzzing all around. It appeared that the buffalo was near the end of its tether and was prepared to accept whatever may happen to it.

There was no hope of untangling the net from around the buffalo's head and horns. "Someone grab us a knife and bring it across." There was a flurry of activity on the other side as Peter jumped in the vehicle and sped around the billabong to meet us.

"Nice day," Peter said conversationally. "Yeah, bit hot out in the sun though," I replied.

It seemed to take forever for Peter to get to our side of the billabong. He pulled the vehicle up in a flurry of dust and then realised that he had no idea where the knife was.

"Where's the bloody knife? He called across the water. "In the back, near the esky." Peter pulled open the doors at the back of the Nissan and started tossing items out in search of the knife.

"Who do you reckon will win the footy this year?" I said to Barry tring to take both of our minds off what maybe lurking in the muddied water. "Which do you mean the AFL, NRL, or Super 14?"  I was about to answer when Peter yelled out, "I got it."

Somewhat hesitantly he approached the prone buffalo who sensed his presence and gave a snort and a small toss of his head. I yanked hard on his tail .

"Pete, there is no way we can get this net off him unless we cut it off. Can you do that?" Barry said this in a quiet and measured voice which was admiral in the situation.

Peter bent down in front of the buffalo, his white jeans quickly taking on a muddy hue. The buffalo gave another small toss of his head in protest as Peter started to hack away at the heavy, nylon fishing cord. It was slow work, even with a sharp knife but bit by bit more of the buffalo's head was exposed.

"I reckon that should do it," Pete said. He looked at both Barry and I and we nodded agreement.

"How are we going to do this? I said. This would be the trickiest part of the operation because if we were successful  we would have an unbound and cranky water buffalo on the loose.

"Pete, you head back to the car." Pete didn't need a second invitation he got up and moved back to the safety of the vehicle. "Barry on three, just let go and head back into the billabong, okay?"

"Yeah, no problems."

I started the count, both Barry and I getting into a position to launch ourselves towards the billabong. "One."

And that is a far as I got as the buffalo must have realised that his head was free and he decided to take charge of the situation. The buffalo just got up and tossed Barry and I aside. Rather than worry about us the buffalo saw open plains ahead and bounded off without a look back. Barry and I looked at one another and laughed and then got out of the water real quick.

We cleaned up as best we could and then it took the three of us all of our strength to pull the fishing net out of the water and stash it behind a tree where it should be safe from wandering buffalo.

When we got back on the other side Barry asked the Aboriginal fellows why they hadn't come across to help. Without a hint of embarrassment he replied that he wasn't stupid, them buffalos can kill a man and anyhow you whitefellows had the situation under control. We couldn't argue with that wisdom.

We also asked him if he knew of any crocodiles in this billabong. He thought about that for a while and said he only knew of one and that was an old grandfather crocodile that lived over near that old gum tree. He pointed it out. It was no more than 50 metres away.

"Shit."

"When was the last time you saw him." We were hoping that it was a long time ago.

"Oh, 'bout twenty minutes ago when he slid into the water."

With that news three whitefellows just got a whole lot whiter!

akmacca08@live.com.au

VANCOUVER OLYMPICS

The Vancouver Winter Olympic Games are less than 3 weeks away and you can feel a sense of excitement buildng up around British Columbia. You tend to hear more an ore people talking about the Games and whether they will attend, watch them on TV or just ignore them altogether.

The Olympic Torch relay makes its way through the Okanagan Valley on Monday 25th and Tuesday 26th of January. No doubt Highway 97 will be blocked for much of that time causing some traffic chaos. I have been invited to go along but I don't know if I will, as watching someone I don't know carry a symbolic torch doesn't really do a lot for me.

Attending Olympic events is a different story tand we have tickets for the Ladies Half-Pipe qualifications and final on the 18 February and the 2 Man Bobsled on 20 February. What makes the woman's snowboarding event even more attractive to me is that an Australian woman is the favourite.

The snowboarding event cost $150 and the Bobsled $75. I saw on a ticket sales website the other day that a single ticket to the snowboard event is being offered for $650. A bit steep.

What we weren't told when we purchased our tickets was the fact that you would also have to pay for transport to the Olympic venues as no private transport will allowed in the Games precinct. So we have to drive to and park at one of the 2-3 designated pick up points and get on a bus that will take us to the venue. You have to book a time and then pay. But as you go through the payment checkout you can only pay by Visa Card as they are an Olympic sponsor. What if you don't have a Visa Card?

The trip to the bobsled event at Whistler they state will take around 3 hours and costs $45. The trip to the snowboard event at Cypress Mountain will take approximately 45 minutes and that cost $21.50.

The booking website states that at the snowboard event you have to be prepared to walk 1600 metres to the event including stairs. It isn't as long a walk at Whistler but you have to catch shuttles and do some walking.

All up four tickets and transportation cost us $1200. An expensive couple of days.

But that's not all, you also have to have somewhere to stay. Hotels that usually charge say $100 or so are charging $300 - $600 or more. Upper echelon hotels are charging in excess of $800 a night. A couple of cruise ships will be berthed in Vancouver for the duration of the Games and they to are charging ridiculous prices for cabins. 

We booked prior to Christmas but still too late to get a decent price. We will be staying at a spa hotel at Harrison Springs which is aroud 140 odd kilometres from the bus we need to catch to the games. Who knows what the traffic will be like getting to the bus pick up point as I have been told there are already traffic restrictions in place for the Olympics. 

So the costs coupled with the travelling MAY make attending the Winter Olympics more of a chore than a joy.

Watch this space.

Back In The Saddle

Back into the swing of things again after the departure of the kids last week. On Monday I dusted off the Asics and got back into an exercise routine. Of course being another year older since I last exercised just before Xmas made it so much more difficult.

No build ups for me straight in at the highest level and consequently almost killed myself. It has been a lifelong story. Get fit and enjoy it, then get injured or go away for work or just get plain lazy and lose all the fitness and then have to start from scratch all over again and again.

I am also back in the editing saddle. As usual I buggered around for ages until I actually sat down at the computer to edit. It has always been like that with writing or university assignments. I always find other things to do but once I commit myself to the task it works out fine. In two days I edited 36 pages which is the most yet. I should (will) have the edit completed by the end of the month.

The weather is still pretty murky here, just the one sunny day in the past 3 weeks. It is like living in London, except with scenery. Apparently because of the geography of the Okanagan Valley and the angle of the sun the weather won't start to improve until mid-February. That said it was 11c here on Tuesday. 

Off to the movies tonight to see Sherlock Holmes. The Penticton Cinema may not be the most salubrious cinema in Canada but seats only cost $6.95 which is a huge plus. When you consider that cinema tickets in Australia are now $16 or more $6.95 is a huge bargain. 

I have seen a few movies over the past few weeks. Avatar, Up in The Air and The Blind Side. Each one was worth the price of admission.  

It is school exam time here at the moment so there is a bit of stress floating around the place.

TOMMY TIPPETT

As regular readers to this blog will know I started this to promote a book I was writing. I had read that every aspiring author had to have a platform to promote his or her book. A platform can be a blog, website, Facebook or Twitter. Just one of them or if possible all of them.

You would also be aware that very little of this blog has pertained to my Tommy Tippett book. I finished the 85,000 word draft of the book in November after six weeks of writing and soonafter started the first edit.

I had completed around 70 pages of editing when I just got sick of it. I placed the book away and have just today returned to it after six weeks away.

I am now ready to go full-steam ahead to finish the editing process by the end of January.

To celebrate I am going to include an excerpt from the book.

Any comments, queries or questions would be appreciated.

Christmas school holidays were always a favourite time for Tommy, it wasn’t just that there was no school, it was a whole range of things. The days were long and hot so he had lots of time to play and explore. Some days he would walk down to the beach, whilst on other balmy, summer days he would just make up games and play with Ace. But the favourite of all summer pastimes was going to work with granddad on the truck.

In the summer granddad left home very early in the morning to do the first beach run. He had to empty all the garbage bins on the beach before the summer crowds arrived. Tommy would get himself up and dressed and have a bowl of cereal or a slice of toast before running outside to where granddad would be filling up the truck with petrol which was just a little bit of a chore.

There was an ancient petrol tank located at the back of the house the tank was necessary when granddad had a fleet of trucks and rather than fill up at a petrol station granddad had the fuel tank installed. Even though the fleet of trucks were gone the tank remained and it was filled every six months or so.

Tommy followed granddad to the pump. “Granddad, can I come with you today?” Tommy always asked if he could go with his grandfather even though he already knew the answer.

“You want to climb on board a dirty old garbage truck, ride around the beach picking up rubbish with your old granddad when you could be swimming at the beach or playing with your dog?” Granddad said this as he placed an oversized watering can on the ground near the petrol bowser.

Tommy automatically went to the long handle of the petrol bowser, grabbed it with both hands and started pumping petrol from the tank below the ground up through a pipe and into the glass bowl high up on the bowser. Tommy loved watching the honey-coloured petrol rush into the bowl and fill it.
“That’ll do Eck, we only need two gallons.”

Tommy stopped pumping and watched as granddad released a valve that allowed all the petrol in the glass bowl to escape, down a rubber hose and into the watering can. The can filled, granddad started to walk up the driveway towards the truck, the heavy petrol-filled can in one hand, the other arm thrust out to the side to balance the operation.

“Well I suppose if you don’t have any more pressing engagements or you don’t have to go to school or meet the Prime Minister, you can come.”

“Oh granddad you know it is school holidays,” Tommy said laughing.

“Well I forgot.”

“No you didn’t granddad.”

“Well I might have, you don’t know everything Eck.”

This was a well practiced ritual between them both. Granddad wasn’t the sort of man who would answer with a simple yes or no when the conversation could be dragged out somewhat.

They arrived at the battered old Ford tip truck, a truck that granddad had owned for almost 10 years. It was a sturdy old truck with a red cabin and green painted wooden sideboards on the tray.
On the drivers side door a skilled sign writer had penned the words in sturdy, black block letters: Thomas Tippett, General Carrier, Wellington Street Bondi, XY873408. The same sign writer had adorned other parts of the truck with scrolls and swirls, which gave the old Ford a jaunty look.
Granddad had once told Tommy that he had every truck he ever owned decorated by a sign writer.

“Why granddad?” Tommy had asked.

“Why Eck?” Well to make the truck attractive and to stand out from other trucks of course. What would you rather ride in a plain old sad truck or a truck like ours that is decorated and happy?” Granddad stood hands on hips looking at Tommy waiting for his answer.

“A truck like ours.’ Tommy answered without hesitation.

“Of course you would. Why when I had a horse and cart I used to get a sign writer to put all manner of swirls and lah-de-dah’s all over the horse, to make him happy and noticeable,”

“Really granddad?” Tommy was looking at his grandfather thoughtfully trying to weigh up the pros and cons between truth and tale.

“Oh Eck when have I ever told you anything that wasn’t absolutely a hundred percent true?” Granddad gave Tommy a hurt look.

“Yesterday when you told me at breakfast that too much honey is bad for you as it can make buzz instead of talk.” Tommy had now placed his hands on his hips and looked directly at his granddad.

“Well I thought I had read that in a scientific magazine, I must have got my facts mixed up, I was probably thinking of elephants.”

Tommy did not even try to fathom granddads response as he was so used to his wonderful nonsense.

LONG HAUL

Just back today from a return trip to Vancouver to drop my kids off at the airport. Their last full day in Canada was spent doing some shopping in Penticton. My daughter Kellie was particularly impressed with Wal-Mart and considered the makeup a steal. They also bought last minute gifts for home as well as a few odds and ends for themselves.

My son David stood out as he wore shorts and a Cronulla Sharks shirt. No one in Canada wears shorts and short sleeves at this time of year. They all looked at him as if he was crazy and he continually proved it by opening his mouth. Jessie was a little better though she couldn't abandon her penchant for wearing thongs.

We had a really nice farewell dinner on the Monday night and the big winner was the dog who scored a nice piece of steak and assorted vegies when Cameo dropped her plate on the kitchen floor.

Final farewells were spoken on Tuesday morning and we headed off for the four hour trip to Vancouver around lunchtime.

The weather was pretty miserable for the first part of the trip and we encountered dense fog on the first part of the journey over the Rocky Mountains. Not that the kidds really cared asa they were watching Lord of the Rings on the on-board DVD player and I had to drive along listening to Gandolf and battles with Orc's.

We encountered sunshine for about 80k's and then as we drew closer to Vancouver the fog and rain set in again. I have been to Vancouver 7 times now and on all but one occasion it has been raining. It maybe a pretty city but the weather is abysmal.

We checked into a hotel near the airport and had 6 hours to kill. I gave the kids their choice of dinner venue and not unsuprisingly they chose fast food. A & W to be exact. This Canadian chain is an institution here and pride themselves on their family of burgers. Hence they name their burgers Mama Burger, Papa Burger, Uncle Burger, well you get the drift. They also serve root beer in huge frosted steins. I have to admit A&W are my favourites as well.

Afterwards we went to the movies, a huge cinema complex near the airport that houses 18 cinema's. I have never seen so many people at the movies before and there was a Burger King as well as several other food outlets inside the cinema. We saw The Blind Side which we all thoroughly enjoyed.

It was back to the hotel time for a quick shower and off to the airport. There was a huge line up for the China Airlines flight to Taipei. The flight from Vancouver is a brutal 13 hours and then they have a ridiculous stopover of 17 hours stopover in Taipei before a 9 hour flight to Brisbane. Whoever came up with this schedule needs to give themselves a good, swift uppercut.

I couldn't stand seeing them waiting around the airport for that amount of time so I had to book a hotel for 2 nights to give them somewhere to put their feet up.

As always the fearwells were hard, I halways have a degree of guilt when I leave my children or they leave me. That said I was happy in the knowledge that all three said that they had the time of their lives whilst in the USA and Canada and I think at least one of them will be back fairly soon. It was a bit of a sad haul as I drove back to the hotel alone at 2330.

The trip back to OK Falls was much quieter today, no distractions or fights. Just traffic and miserable rain for the first part of the drive and thick fog over the Rockies. I arrived back at OK early in the afternoon to spend the rest of my birthday with Tammie.

So the house is so much quieter now and I have to start planning my next adveture. At the moment the only thing on the radar is the Vancouver Olympics in mid-February.

Stay tuned.

EDITOR'S BLOCK!

The snow has come and gone for now and been replaced by drizzling rain. Of course this turns the roads to slush and pristine white has been replaced by dirty, black piles of banked snow. Not a very nice sight and it is the other side of the 'winter wonderland.'

We have a very steep driveway here and we were having trouble getting the van up and down the icy driveway. So the tyres on the van have now been replaced with winter tyres that will give the vehicle more grip and that means we should be able to get up and down the driveway without too many problems.

There is also some heavy winter driving trips ahead over the next few weeks, firstly to Banff and then across the Rockies to Vancouver and then down into the States to California and back. So the tyres will improve the safety of the drive.

Tomorrow we head to Vernon in BC to spend the night with friends before heading east and onto Banff.

Confession time.

This blog was primarily to promote my book about the boy, Tommy Tippett who grew up in Sydney in the 1960's. The book of some 85,000 words took six weeks to write and in the 8 weeks sincce I completed the book I have edited just 70 pages. It is something I am just not enjoying and I find any excuse to put off an edit for another day. I am not sure why as without the edit the book won't go anywhere.

I now have the excuse of travel and Christmas to further put off returning to Tommy. The solution I think is a new years resolution around Tommy Tippett and a completion date for the edit.

Good idea! That's exactly what I will do.

In the meantime I will write a bit about this and a little about that. Some blogs will be contemporary and keep you up to date with what is going on here and now whilst in other blogs I will backtrack to another time when we were all much younger, but not as wise.

So hang in there, Tommy is on his way, sooner or later, well actually a bit later than sooner but I know he will be worth the wait.

akmacca08@live.com.au

DASHING DEER

It seemed that only a short time ago I was watching kangaroos bounding past the house where I lived. It happened on such a regular basis that I didn't even bother to look up. It was so mundane that the dog even stopped barking at them as they bounded by the back fence.

Now I find myself in Canada and confronted by a new type of bounder. Well to be accurate deer don't bound so much as leap, though those around OK Falls are more the ambling type of deer who just saunter down the middle of the rode going to one suburban garden after another.

The Australian in me still gets a kick out of seeing deer wandering around the streets. They really have no fear of humans and you can get reasonably close before they wander off. They crop grass close to busy roads all the time, yet in all my Canadian travels I haven't see one roadkill deer. The only dead deer I have seen were 2 dead deer beside a road in Washington, State, USA.

That tells me two things. American deer are dumber than Canadian deer and Australian kangaroos are dumber than all the animals in North America, because our roads are littered with dead kangaroos.

Just this morning I let the dog out into what passes as a backyard to be confronted by 2 deer happily chomping away on the remains of a summer garden. The dog thought about a chase but decided that discretion was the better part of valor and sat back valiantly and saw the deer off the property. The deer paid both the dog and I scant attention and wandered off when they felt like it.

Damn deer!

The other animal I have run into recently is bighorn sheep. I have seen them on the rocky slopes of the hills near where I walk the dog. They have only appeared recently so I assume that the onset of the cold weather and snow has driven them down from the higher peaks.

Sometimes I just see them far off silhouetted on a far off hill, but today they were relatively close to the trail a group of 5 bighorns who just watched my passage impassively never once taking their eyes from me or the dog. The buck was a huge animal with an impressive set of horns. Sad that these animals that are adept at suriving in such a harsh environment are often easy fodder for hunters gun's.

Not much going on with the book, still editing slowly with a target to finish by 07 December. What a relief that will be.

COLD CANADA

Sweltering in Melbourne one moment and freezing in Canada the next. Now I know why my body hates me at times.

Departed Melbourne without too much fuss though I did manage to leave my camera in my friends car. No problems, camera's were on special at the duty free, so I moved from a bulky Cannon camera to a lightweight model. Still it is an annoyance to leave stuff behind.

On most of my travels I avail myself of the Qantas lounge, something I have become accustomed to. But not this time I wasn't travelling Qantas so I had to wait with the great, unwashed masses and forgo free food, drinks, magazines and newspapers. I don't know how I survived.

I lucked out and scored a row to myself, thank you Air Canada! As I always do I slept little but watched several movies, the pick of which was Juilia V Julia. The Julie part all about a women that writes a cooking blog. She too wondered if anyone would read her blog. They did and it not only lead to a book but the film as well!

It was the first time that I had travelled Air Canada and I had no problems at all with the service. It wasn't the best airline food I have had but it was okay.

The plane actually landed early into a dull and bleak Vancouver Sunday morning. Rain and cold. My good moon at being off the plane soon dissapeared when I was given a going over by Canadian immigration. Apparently I came to Immigrations notice because I left and then returned to Canada so quickly. I must admit I was a little worried for a while as time dragged on, I had visions of being on the next plane back to Australia with my tail between my legs.

Thankfully that was not the case.

I had a three day wait in Vancouver and didn't really do a lot as I had been to Vancouver several times before. Also it was cold and wet and thoroughly miserable. So I managed to catch up on some sleep and reading.

Just yesteerday I hada wonderful trip back to Okanagan Fall through the Rocky Mountains. Huge snow covered moutains and pine trees covered in snow. To an Aussie who spent the best part of the last two years in the Central Desert region of Australia the snow was a wonderous sight.

So I am now back in my home base and trying to get up the motivation to continue with my Tommy Tippett book. Yes the first draft of 85,000 words is written but now comes the hard part, editing and honing the words that I wrote. Cutting and chopping here and adding something there. I really want to get on with the task but I am dragging my feet.

I have promised myself that I will start next Monday and I will hold myself to that especially now that I have placed the threat in writing.

Life is good I sit and write this as I look out over a majestic mountain range that runs down to the shores of a cold Lake Skaha. No complaints from me.