Story Cont;

CHAPTER TWO

Sitting in her seat, she placed her knapsack on the seat next to her and strapped it in.  The steward had told her that there would be no one occupying the seat next to her.  The plane took off without a hitch and the expected time of arrival in Melbourne was 11.00am, on September 17^th 2 days before her 25^th birthday.  Jazz had forgotten that her birthday was nearing.  She settled back into her seat, not wanting to think about birthdays or anything that would bring back the memory of happier times.  Not just yet.  Not until she was sure that she could no longer feel, because when she could no longer feel then nothing else could hurt her anymore.

Between the steward waking her for her meals and her own starts from slumber, Jazz was happy to arrive in Singapore so that she could stretch her legs whilst the plane refuelled before its last leg to Melbourne.  Another 7 hours and then who knew what.  Someone was apparently supposed to meet her there and then take her…where ever.  She couldn’t remember the dreams that woke her from her sleep.  They left her aching.  Sometimes aching in her heart and so she guessed she dreamt of her parents, but even more strangely, her vagina sometimes ached, and Jazz was embarrassed at the thought of her having any sort of erotic dreams whilst not in the privacy of her bedroom.  These dreams worried her because they were becoming more frequent.  She couldn’t go back to the doctor and say to him ‘Hey doc, you know that aching I’ve been bitching about lately?  Well, now my vagina keeps clenching and creaming and I have to keep changing my panties.  Do you think that I have some sort of virus?’  Yeah, that would make him keep a straight face.  He’d probably tell her that it was stress affecting her hormones and shove her on a different contraceptive pill to adjust her body’s hormones.  The dreams also made her feel guilty; all she could remember were stormy eyes.  How was she able to even think of pleasure when mentally she was still devastated by the past year’s events?  It didn’t stop the dreams and the toll was slowly showing in her eyes when she looked at herself in the mirror.  There were shadows in the deep brown and sometimes her pupils seemed non-existent, lost in the brown.

After a brief stop in Singapore, the last leg to Melbourne flew.  No sooner had she seemed to settle back into her seat and had finished off a meal than the plan made its approach into Tullamarine Airport.  There were no problems with customs and there was no need for her to fight her way through the baggage carousels as she’d managed to take her luggage on board.  Finally exiting into a foyer packed with people Jazz made her way past the barriers and then looked over the sea of faces for someone holding a placard with her name on it. 

Nothing, no one holding up her name anywhere that she could see.  Time to go to the café she saw across the crowded foyer and get a coffee to wait whomever she was here to meet.  After ordering a double shot latte, sitting down in one of the secluded seats towards the back, Jazz began to feel annoyed.  Her temper was legendary in the family.  Much like her father’s when it was riled and allowed freedom. 

This was a joke.  Did I really make it half way around the world to be stood up in an airport?  No cell phone to call the bloody Administrator and demand to know what the Hell was going on.  C’mon Jazz, don’t lose your cool now.  Whoever was to meet her had probably been caught in traffic or something, and anyway no one actually believed that flights were ever on time or early did they?  Just sit there like a good girl, try to relax and drink your coffee.  By the time you do that then your guide will be there to get you.  She sighed and closed her eyes in bliss at the strong drugging taste of rich coffee saturated in milk.  When she opened her eyes they clashed with a pair of blue/grey eyes.  The man heading her way was yummy.  There was no other description.  He had black hair that fell across his brow, shading the intensity she had glimpsed in his eyes.  Jazz’s pussy clenched with lust and she quickly looked down at the tabletop. God Jazz, get a grip here.  Maybe it really was time to lose her virginity, especially if just the mere sight of a dreamy guy sent cream flooding her panties.

“Miss Chevalier, I believe.”

Jazz looked up, straight into the face of the man she had just been eying off.  “Yes, and you are?” feeling a blush staining her cheeks.

“Joshua McAllister.  I’m sure that the Administrator let you know that someone was to meet you.  Sorry I’m a little late, but clearance to land was a little longer forthcoming than I anticipated.”  He grinned at her whilst watching her steadily. 

“The Administrator did say that I would be met Mr. McAllister, just not who it would be.”  This man could make someone burn with that boyish smile and sinfully good looks; she clenched her thighs closer together in an attempt to ignore the heat.

“Please, call me Josh,” grinning at her again.  Lord, the man was dangerous, thought Jazz as she shifted uncomfortably on the chair as she felt her pussy flooding her panties yet again.

“Did you say clearance to land?”  Good lord, another flight and to where now? She was just so tired of not knowing what was happening to her life.  Things had been hectic yet simple before the death of her parent.  Now she was about to undertake yet another flight and for the first time ever this horniness was ridiculously out of control….in an airport no less!

“Yes, so if you’re about ready Miss Chevalier, we really need to get going so that we don’t lose the window and then have to beg for a quicker one than the tower will allow us.”  He picked up her luggage and watched her hand clench on the knapsack and a dazed look cloud her eyes.  They changed to warm liquid with that expression and Josh felt her arousal hit him.  It reminded him of chocolate and autumn; the scent of her arousal was affecting him more than it should have. Damn it, he thought, things could get dangerous fast at this unexpected development.  Her smell called to him at a time he couldn’t afford to be distracted; none of the other women’s arousal affected him like this.  She wouldn’t be safe until they reached Solace and even then that wasn’t as safe as the name it had been given.  There was a spy, someone willing to destroy what had for centuries been established and hard fought for.  It was going to be hard enough with her having to come to terms with her life, let alone the added dangers from an unknown source.

“Where are we going?”  She looked up at him as she stood noticing the harsh plane of his angel like face.  Gorgeous maybe, but apart from that brief flash of humour a coldness that said hand’s off.  Lord he was tall. But she didn’t feel threatened by his height.  At just over 5 feet, she always felt diminutive, but no more so than at this particular moment.  She couldn’t understand it but she just wanted to curl herself into him for protection.  It was ridiculous and she determinedly looked away so she could get her emotions, as well as her crazy body under her control.  Control was everything; her parents had told her that when she realised that although small she had strengths that most didn’t have.  It was something that her mother and father had instilled in her; always keep in control, emotion could lead to danger.

“We’re going to the Solace.”  He started walking away towards the escalators leaving Jazz no choice but to follow.

At a door marked as ‘authorised personnel only’, he keyed in a code allowing them access to a mundane tunnel.  She continued to follow him through the corridors, passing people wearing uniforms of airlines until they finally reached a door that let them out onto tarmac.  There in front of them was a small Lear jet with the corporation’s logo of a dragonfly, fleur de Lys and wolf’s paw on a shield.

He looked over his shoulder at the steps to the jet, “Come.” 

He didn’t even look back after that demand, Jazz thought with her lips tightening.  Arrogant male.  He may look good enough to get her all wet and flustered but his attitude stank; didn’t he realise that her life had been a nightmare for the past 12 months and that she’d barely managed to keep her sanity and follow through with her father’s wishes?  She followed him into the jet and watched as he placed her bag next to a seat, then just continued to walk straight through to the cockpit. 

Fine!  I suppose I’ll just sit here like a dog then.  Did this guy even realise that she was the head of her family now and…  Jazz flopped into the seat, deflated at the reminder of her parents’ death and looked around, seeing that a woman she had not noticed upon entering was closing the cabin door.  She watched as the woman made her way towards her.

“Good morning Miss Chevalier.  My name is Eve.  Can I get you anything before we take off or would you prefer a drink once in the air?”

“Um, a drink when we’ve taken off is fine. Thank you.” Was McAllister staying with the pilot?

“Josh will have us out of here shortly, so if you wouldn’t mind buckling your seat belt then I’ll let him know that you’re all settled so he can take off.”

Jazz clipped her seat belt together and watched the woman Eve go through the same door Josh had disappeared through.  She felt the engines power up and then they were rattling down the runway.  The world slipped away as she watched Melbourne airport disappear as they climbed through cloud. 

Well Dad, here I go again to God only knows where.  I hope you and Mum knew what you were doing asking me to do this and I hope to hell that I don’t die by following through with this.  She closed her eyes wearily and even with the sleep she’d managed to grab on the flight to Melbourne drifted once more to sleep.

Sing In The New Year

Last night saw the end of yet another year and the beginning of a new one to which there are many of us that wished for many new or better things.  It's really rather depressing to try & sum up a year that has passed by.  I don't know of anyone that can give a detailed description of their year.  Many of us are able to give the synopsis of our past year but how many of us can actually say what they were doing at any particular point of the year?  I mean sure, we can all state the time that we took a holiday, received exam results, had birthdays, births, deaths etc.  but that in itself isn't the entire year.  Most of us I'm relatively sure would state that there was work... or school... or just the average day to day happenings with interspersed particular moments.

Thinking over 2008 it is likened I believe to catching up with people you have not seen in quite a while.  The dreaded question of "what have you been doing?" often finds me stumped to the point that I feel my life is not overly exciting.  I mean come on, work, school and um...  That's about it really... sort of sad, especially when I know damn well that I've been busy and my life is more exciting than that!!  But when put on the spot I often cannot think of anything past the mundane.  Take the calling in of the New Year (2009).  Did I go out?  Nope.  Did I watch the fireworks on TV? Hell no!  In fact, the New Year wasn't even acknowledge when it ticked over as I was thoroughly entrenched in the '80's watching The Breakfast Club.  My New Year consisted of a few sms's well before midnight; eating very little except chocolate; watching dvd's and basically nodding off to sleep at about 2am.  Very anti-social but very enjoyable.

I have been contemplating how to spend the 1st January and have the whole 'I can't be bothered' attitude.  I would still be in my pj's if it were not for my father needing some things from my place of work & thus needing me to receive the discount.  Whilst he's now working hard outside, my mother is taking down Christmas decorations and I am listening to Secondhand Serenade and posting on my Blog.... contemplating either watching the 2nd disc of Blackpool or beginning 3rd Rock From The Sun... maybe even re-watching The West Wing for the umpteenth time!!

Have a great New Year everyone, and I'll let you all do the singing as if I joined in you'd want to be drunk enough to think I can actually carry a tune!!!

Lazy Days

At the moment I am trying to find, somewhere deep down, the energy or mental fortitude to get out of bed.  It has been a long time since I've lazed about past the hour of 8.30am.  If it wasn't for the fact that I am working today (only a 5 hr shift) then I truly think that I would make this a pyjama day and just laze about... particularly since its just started to rain.  My cup of tea is sitting comfortably on my bedside table, I've had 2 pieces of toast and am nicely ensconced under a warm doona.  How can life be considered hard when the warm fuzzies of contentment are curling about in such a lazy day mood?

Alas, the necessity of work... money truly is an evil task master... means that I must in all honesty consider the need to leave this utopic ideal and get into the shower, readying myself for work.  I can however put it off for a little bit longer....

Chocolate...

Sitting in front of me, in my line of sight, is a packet of Reese's peanut butter trees... yep, not cups but trees as it is the Christmas special that my kind friend Carol sent me from the United States.  I don't really have what is known as a sweet tooth but there are certain things in the sweets category that I will kill for... men beware.  GOOD chocolate, GOOD ice-cream, brownies, patisseries & nougat are just some of them.  It's often not a good thing to get any of these for me though, as I tend to be atrociously picky and unless you KNOW what my exact tastes are you'd best venture away from getting any of them for me.  However, if you do know my exact tastes then be prepared to not receive even the offering of such a delicacy.

My last binge in the sweet realm was in fact just last night as I watched the first disc of "Blackpool".  I figure that I'd best have something sweet in my mouth to stop me from drooling excessively over David Tennant.  My mouth (in my dreams) could have been much better applied rather than eating a block of Lindt hazelnut milk chocolate!!  Evil I am but then that's the way to have fun kiddies and good chocolate just makes it all the sweeter in the naughty realm.

Well, my niece is here and I really can't let her read too much of this as she is still an innocent  - obviously hasn't been subject to my evil side yet... she's just turned 16 so in another few years I can watch my language etc. around her.

A New Addition

I am pleased to announce the arrival of my newly born niece: Miss Allegra Jane Vatta.  To be quite blunt I really don't like babies, well like is really not the right word there.  I am indifferent to them.  Most of the time I can't quite understand what all the fuss is about. They scream, smell and basically annoy the hell out of me. But then again there are, and I will admit it, some babies that are cute... not all squally, red, wrinkled and horrible little shits...some of them actually do have nice personalities.  This is the case with my new niece.  She doesn't try to steal the limelight, but stays so quiet that it makes me proud to acknowledge her.  The child in the bed next to her should be sent back because it wouldn't shut up... one of the reasons I won't have a baby is because I'd end up with that!

So, little miss came into the world yesterday at 2.15pm.  Weighing 7.5 pounds and 47cm long not making a sound with her hand curled over the right side of her face/cheek.  She has totally surprised her mother with how undemanding she is except for when she wants her food.  A lovely little girl with a button nose, lots of brown/black hair and gorgeous chocolate brown eyes fringed with long lashes.  The name suits her, meaning pretty/beautiful... and for once the name is right, even when talking about a baby!

And To All A Goodnight!

Well, once again we have indulged, participated and sped our way through Christmas.  Presents have been unwrapped, bellies over filled and the crash making its way into over tired minds & bodies.  It was a fantastic Christmas this year (17 people less than last year!) with my nieces & nephews making it later in the early evening.  Lara has managed to keep my niece to be firmly ensconced in her belly...hopefully ensuring no Christmas Day birth...not willing to jinx myself here as there is still 45 minutes until we reach December 26!  My poor brother has an infection on the inside of his cheek & hasn't been able to eat for just over a week now.  He has noticeably lost weight (with, like many of us the opportunity to lose more), but it was a sad state for him this Christmas.  he almost produced tears when he had to give me his crackling because he couldn't even open his mouth enough to chew.  I really hope for his sake that he gets better very soon.  That is one of my Christmas wishes.

I received some lovely pressies including an expensive pair of noise reduction Sennheiser headphones!  Well, I hope that everyone out there enjoyed their Christmas and will do something similar to me tomorrow and laze the day away...mine will be by a pool with my iPod & book.  But as the Snoopy cartoon says "To All A Goodnight!"

Sleeps

I find it hilarious that even adults talk about time in terms of "sleeps".  It is almost as if we revert to times of our childhood, or even letting the inner child come forth.  This is even more so when it comes to the Christmas Season.  We now all have only one more sleep until good old Saint Nicholas makes his way to bring joy and presents to us over this night.  It's getting late here (9.39pm) and I'm busy importing some of my CD's into my iTunes.  Batteries are charged and ready for the next day and all I can think is that Lara deserves her Christmas wish... not to go into labour tomorrow, no matter how much my brother would like a Christmas baby.  I figure she's had to lug the thing about for about 9 months then it's her wishes that carry the weight.

Here comes a shock to most of you... my room is 3/4 complete!  I still have some of my school work to file and about 10-20 books to find a home for but I am actually sitting here at my desk typing this up.  I still want to move my bed, whereby I'll probably find things that I'd thought I'd lost, but hey at least I'll be able to change my sheets properly etc.  Anne has kindly offered to adjust some of my fitted sheets so that they'll actually fit my bed.  For those of you that are unaware of my lovely antique bed, it is a king single in size, except that its as long as a double bed.... and since the idiotic manufacturers have not seen the need to even make fitted king singles I'm a bit screwed in the sheet department.  I've been making do with double bed fitted sheets but they are, sorry for this folks, giving me the SHEETS!  Come along the fabulous Anne and voila, perfectly fitted sheets for my bed.

I suppose I should consider going to bed.  I've just taken a little break... from this, to wash the floors in the bathroom, toilet and kitchen... all ready for it to get dirty again tomorrow.  Can't complain though since I spent most of the day out and about doing things, chauffeuring people and got home to find mum & dad had gotten everything ready for tomorrow as well as the lovely crayfish dinner tonight!  I love my parents, they can be a pain in the butt at times but I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world... ANYTHING.

Hugs and a Merry Xmas to all.

Mmm Sunshine

Summer has definitely hit Melbourne with a vengeance!  Today we reached a top of 30 degrees Celsius and tomorrow's temperature is 34 degrees.  It's looking good for Christmas Day with a top of 26 so I am blissed out with the sun lounge ignoring the usual warnings about the sun.  It's not that I'm actually sunbathing, I take out a book and read it outside...well, until the heat gets to me then I walk back in and curl up in a chair enjoying the shade and coolness that is evident indoors.

I love the sun, although I really don't like it too hot and prefer lovely coolish evenings once the sun goes down...suitable for a comfy sleep in bed.  The next couple of days will be busy as Christmas nears.  Tomorrow I am off to pamper myself with a trip to the hair dresser.... a summer look is in order to go with my summery mood and the sunshine.  I think that I'll also give myself a pedicure and just be a vegetable for the rest of the day... the bedroom still isn't finished but it is 100% better than it was and is livable for the next day before I attack it again just before Christmas.

I have now eaten, drank and am feeling very relaxed that it is time for me to curl up once again with a book and drift away....

Adequate Words

There never seems to be adequate words at certain times, regardless of how many words there are in existence.  I recently went to a wedding that I would term memorable (not in a happy way) where the father of the bride was revolting and ended the evening being escorted from the reception by the local constabulary.  This was approx. 6 weeks ago and this past week I have been informed that the scum bag of a wife has informed her wonderful husband that 'she doesn't love him anymore'.  Please tell me that there are no words to fully describe this boil on the butt of society?

But folks, this gets even better... apart from $50 she put towards her wedding ring, she nor her parents paid a cent for this wedding.  Her future (now present) in-laws paid for everything -- including the dress!  That's right, the very people she is now calling bloody, wog cunts paid for her wedding.  Now can any of you find an adequate word to describe this abomination?  Remember, when using any word to describe her are you then insulting said product/animal etc?  There are some things that I find very difficult to comprehend and this is one of the more recent ones that I simply had to share with you.  How can a person, gender irrelevant, make what many consider the ultimate commitment between 2 people, marriage, not even 6 weeks later tell that person that they no longer love them?  Did they ever really love them?  Why not call off the wedding if there were any doubts?  

I mean, sure it would have been painful then but isn't this more so?  I who have very rarely been without words to express myself, find myself stumped with not a lack of words but which ones could possibly be an adequate interpretation of this mangy cur that misrepresent the female race.  What do you do when faced with the dilemma of such inadequacies?  I'll leave that for you to ponder.

The Disaster I Call My Bedroom

I have deiced that this posting needed to be in red to give you a subliminal start as to how to define my bedroom in it's present state.  I would say that 'work in progress' is so much of an understatement that it's not funny.  Why is that whenever you decide to completely clean something it always ends up being worse before there is even a glimpse of the better?  I am one garbage bag down, as well as one load of washing now hung out to dry.  Patches of my floor are visible, but even though it is visible it also needs a good clean....may have to impose on our neighbours again for the wash 'n' vac.  

Clothes are hung, folded and put away (as well as some tearful partings into the bin for some oldies I have been holding onto for no other reason than I like them) and I now have the next struggle - what pile to start on next?  the ambivalence and indecision has halted the progressive cleaning and meant that here I am now goofing off to write in here....anything rather than make the decision on where to go next.  Kind of reminds me of that episode of Black Books the one where Manny swallows the "Little Book of Calm" and Bernard is trying to avoid doing his tax.  I have 3 choices... Books... Papers... Dvd's. 

There is no logic as to which would be best completed first.  All 3 are on the floor, desk, bed(as well as under it) and I have to find room for all of it.  The papers have to be sorted into 'keeping' and 'rubbish' as well as the school keeping pile then tagged and put into a folder (or 2).  The books also need to be sorted, not into getting rid of any but by their genre & author (anal aren't I?) and the dvd's have to be then placed into the storage unit...alphabetically ordered of course.  I suppose you can see the dilemma, where to start?  As we are also heading off for an early dinner, I also know that there is no way that I'll be finishing today....knew this was a 2 day job but was fairly ambitious.  Tomorrow we're going into the CBD early and want to be back home around lunch time.  As we have people coming over in the evening I am keeping my fingers crossed that I will be able to lock myself in my room and finish up.

The unrealistic aim at this time of year is to get anything completed before Christmas...but hey, I like a challenge and never believe in follow expectations...I mean who'd have thought I'd even get onto starting my room let alone doing it?

The Unfulfilled Sleep In

It is currently 7.23am here having woken up just over 15 minutes ago I groan at the time.  No matter how hard I try I just can't seem to make it past 7.30am at the moment....which means that I am ready for a nap come 3.30pm.  Is this a part of growing older, that we feel the need to lie down and snooze in the afternoon?  This is not saying that I'm going to bed early and that's why I can't seem to sleep in, nope, the average night time nod off seems to be around midnight so I just can't work out why this unfulfilled lie in is occurring. 

Basically I liken myself to a cat (as much as I love dogs and am happy to answer to the word Bitch), it is this animal that I feel most akin with.  I like to laze in the sun, curl up somewhere and snooze but have the claws if you want to try me.  Also I am very independent and have the views that go with it.  However, unlike the cat I can't seem to slumber away in the early mornings at the moment.  Has someone up there been playing funny buggers with some internal clock I didn't want to know about?  Knowing my contrary mind, I'll be sleeping soundly past the allotted internal wake up and will end up being kicked out of bed by my parents to help get things ready for the 18 guests we have descending upon the household for lunch.

iTunes

I have finally edged my way into the world of iTunes.  It has been a long time coming, but it can be a wonderful experience for those of you lucky enough to have an iPod.  I now have album covers (well for most of my albums anyway) and I have gone back into my corny listening memory and downloaded a couple of old favourites from when I was at High School.  It is rather scary to realise that these songs actually exist or more to the point that I want to revisit them enough to download them!

Currently I am listening to November Rain by Guns 'n' Roses.  I really don't like heavy metal music but I am a strong believer that you can't go past these bands for the best ballads.  They just seem to have a brilliant mix of rock with words.  I had to laugh that Star Trekkin' rates an "explicit" box against it when Machine Gun Fellatio's Let Me Be Your Dirty Fucking Whore doesn't.  obviously something is a tad skew-if there.

Tomorrow sees me taking my sister in law to the obstetrician's for a check up.  Her due date is Christmas day...pretty revolting for the child if you ask me.  Then Thursday's aim is to get my big butt into gear and actually tidy my bedroom before we actually reach Christmas!  Hence the playing with my iTunes Library.  I can only do my room if I have music to bop, sing and dance to as I attempt to boogie into making the time go quickly.  My problem with my bedroom is an ongoing saga.  i tend to clean it every 2-3 months but it always returns to the disaster zone I begin with.  It is a constantly losing battle but the sad fact is that I get to a stage that I am fed up with the mess that I, myself, have created and then get overly pedantic on how it has to be clean...hence taking me, often, an entire day.  Crazy I know, but if you haven't figured out my numerous psychoses by now then continue to read along over the next few months/years and you'll soon be made eminently aware!

Ciao!

Decks, Sun & Food

The rain that we have been getting the past few days has lent itself to a bright sunny afternoon.  Dad & my nephew Jason have finished up our new deck and we are currently sitting here eating some finger food, drinking some sparkling rose and enjoying the light breeze tickling my skin.  They are forecasting more rain, or should I say showers, for this week but for now I am ready to sink further into my seat and go for a snooze.

It's kind of hard to believe that we'll be celebrating Christmas in 8 days...not that I'm counting or anything.  I'm ambivalent about what type of weather I'd like for Christmas day.  If it's cold then I'll appreciate the hot food all the better.  However, if it's hot then I can wear comfy clothes and not have to worry about cold feet etc.

The dogs are sulking in a corner hoping that they'll be the beneficiaries of some of the left over food.  Most of you probably know, but for those who are not enlightened, I have 2 dogs.  They are my babies.  They are Siberian Huskies and although, as I said they are my babies, they can be a trying pair of ratbags.  At present they are behaving...neither of them are allowed on the deck, although the looks we're all receiving are enough to try out for a Greek tragedy.

Well, enough of my rambling for today.  Look on for any more.

Dog Tired

Has anyone ever wondered where the term 'dog tired' came from?  I have just had a shower and crawled into bed with all intentions of going to sleep because I have to get up at the God awful time of 5.30 am tomorrow.  This is of course, all in aid of work, which means that although I am currently weary, I will be 'dog tired' by tomorrow afternoon.  I have a friend's birthday tomorrow evening as well and have sent her an sms because she still hasn't sent me an email with all the details.  She's not one to spend a lot of time on the computer, so it really is forgivable that she may have forgotten she'd promised to email me.  At this time of year everyone has forgetful brain syndrome!

So, anyway, if anyone has a logical reason for the term 'dog tired' or even 'bone' tired', please let me know.  These random nothings do often take up the limited brain space I have.  Well, glancing at the clock it's now 9.14 pm and whilst it's lovely and quiet here (no one's at home), and the rain is playing it's symphony on the colorbond roof, I'm off to visit the land of nod.

Shopping

I've just come home after my early shift that went surprisingly quick.  My lovely nephew is here helping dad do some more of the decking.  They've gotten half of it done, but are now awaiting some more screws fro Otter.... they aren't due until Monday so it has also come to a standstill.  Therefore, since there seems to be nothing better to do, we are traipsing off to Chadstone to do some more Christmas shopping.  I'm getting mum the Wii Fit (which comes with an extra game - for me) but I still have one more present to get dad... not too sure what but I'm sure I'll think of something.

I love shopping at Christmas... not the crowds, just the fantastic things that make their way into the various stores.  Also, David Jones does lovely Christmas wrapping.  Shifts have been changed at work and I'm now only working Thursday next week, oh and the weekend of course.  I have absolutely no idea what I want for Christmas.  But I can give you a little of wishes... these cost way too much for them to be feasible wants.

Anyway, heading off now so I shall let you know what's in my warped thoughts later on.

Early Mornings

I have to admit that I am not a morning person.  This is not to say that I don't get out of bed in a cheerful mood, it just means that getting out of bed can be the problem.  Snooze I have discovered is really not my friend.  If I press it then I feel worse and the grumps settle in only to be chased away longer than normal.  Why exactly am I mentioning this?  Well, it's simple really.  I have to be at work at 7am tomorrow and have thus just spent the past 5 minutes contemplating what is a reasonable hour to set my alarm.  I have finally decided on 6am, but it's not really 6am as my clock is set 10 minutes fast.  The brilliance to the madness is that I will have a panic attack should I glance over and see the time at 7.15 am and immediately rush to get organised and out the door.  I know, these delusions I continually have are just a small part of what makes me, me.

So, the PLAN, notice the capitals as it is not set in concrete, is to get up just after 6am, have a cuppa, maybe a piece of toast then head off to for work about 6.35 am.  I'll let you know if I was successful in actually adhering to a plan of such repulsion.  I mean, really, would you want to leave the comfort of your bed to venture in the coolness of morning???  I just don't get it.  My perfect lazy day consists of pj's, a good book and bed or chair to curl up on.....screw getting out from under the doona!

Ooh, Chapter One

Red Spot special!!  I thought that since I'd give you the next installment in my story.  I'd really appreciate any feedback you can all give me as long as it's relevant and not just that you don't like the genre I've picked etc.

Here you go:

CHAPTER ONE

Present Day

 

“Jasmine, I don’t understand why you feel it’s necessary to sell the house.”

“I think the fact that my parents were murdered in it is the obvious reason Susan.”   It always annoyed her Aunt Susan that she didn’t call her ‘aunt’; the reason for this phone call was because she’d decided to sell the family home and apparently had no fixed abode.  It infuriated Susan even more because she wouldn’t get anything from the estate.  It had belonged to her father’s side of the family and Susan was regrettably, her mother used to say, her mother’s sister.  Up until their deaths they had kept Susan in a way she felt she deserved to be kept in, more to shut her up and keep her away from them than out of any real familial bond. 

“Really Jasmine, it was over 12 months ago and you’ve managed to live there since.  Anyway, where will you go?  You haven’t even told me where to get in touch with you and my yearly contract with your father’s estate is due soon and you haven’t mentioned when you’ll be over to re-sign.”  Ah, the REAL reason comes out.

“I won’t be signing any renewal Susan.  I’ve decided that the estate will be put to better use and it’s about time you looked after yourself.  Gotta go now, have a nice life!”  Over.  My last contact is gone, or it will be when I break this sim card. 

Five weeks ago she’d turned twenty-three and had received a package from the Administrator.  That was all she’d ever called him because that was all she’d ever heard her father call him.  He was an old gentleman that oversaw her father’s estate; no age was attached, just that he was elderly in appearance.  Jazz had been introduced to him a long time ago when she’d turned thirteen, but since then not seen nor heard from him.  Not even when her parents had died, except for a note stating that the Administrator would fulfil their last will & testament, leaving her with nothing to do except collect the miserly few possessions that she wanted in remembrance of her family and a package marked ‘confidential’.  In the package had been a diary, letter, a deed to a property and travel arrangements for her departure today.

She took one last look at what had been her father’s study.  Gone were the books, which had been housed in the floor to ceiling shelves, and gone were the other items that had taken up residence in the room for as long as she could remember.  The only thing that Jazz was certain to see once more was her father’s desk; some staff that had been sent had collected it, or so they said, by the Administrator.  The books and everything else in the house had either been sold or donated to various organisations.  Her home was gone.  It hadn’t been home since a tragic night over a year ago.  Gone was the smell of her father’s cigars, which he had sworn to her mother he no longer smoked but still did in the privacy of his domain; no longer would the smell of her mother’s specially made perfume, lily of the valley and hyacinth, be found when entering a room.  It was all gone and what was left, was an empty shell that had kept her dry and absent from life, and now it was time to say goodbye.

Jazz picked up her leather gloves, swung her knapsack onto her shoulder and shut the front door, closing forever on a chapter from her life and made her way to the awaiting limousine.  She closed her eyes as she leant back into the soft leather of the car seat as the car sped off.  Thinking back to the letter that had been in the package left for her, she couldn’t help wondering at the unknown force compelling her to fulfil those words from the grave.  Was this the right thing to do?  The letter had been from her father, a voice from the grave reaching out to her. 

           

 

My Dearest Jazz,

            If you are reading this then both your mother and I are no longer with you.  Be strong my heart, for we will always be with you in spirit.  There are some things that I need to tell you and although I always envisioned that they would not be disclosed this way, you mother’s sight tells me I need to do this; I only pray that in this she is wrong.  So, as your mother insists that this will be the way for you to know of your destiny, I am so doing her bidding, regardless of my wishful thinking.  You will soon realise more than the gifts of your mother are present in this world, and for this reason alone you must hold to the strength and courage I know dwells deep within you.

As you know, we are very wealthy.  What you don’t know Jazz, is that with that wealth comes much more responsibility than you would come to normally expect, and that responsibility has nothing to do with this world.  “What world?” I can almost here you say.  My family are guardians, guardians of our people; almost like the Head of State to a country’s people.  There are myths in this world Jazz and from every myth there is, in fact, a kernel of truth.  I’m sure that as a historian you are ready to automatically deny this as you insist on basing things in fact, but please, keep an open mind.  I cannot write more for fear of this letter falling into the wrong hands.  DO NOT under ANY circumstances let anyone know about this letter.  Quite melodramatic I’m sure, but my heart, if I am dead and you know nothing of this already then you can take my death, and that of your mother, as reason enough to believe me.  The Administrator will tell you everything that I cannot; he now serves you and will see to your protection.  So, be prepared to take only those things that mean the most to you and do away with the rest, they are not necessary to your new life.

 The Administrator will organise the rest as pertains to our Will; there is a ticket here and there will be someone to meet you to take you to where you need to be.  Finally my cub, burn this letter and forget about everything you have ever believed to be true as truth is an illusion and the only truth you need to know is the truth of your heart.

Love Always,

Dad

 

Now sitting in the back of the limousine, leaving all that was familiar behind, Jazz couldn’t help but wonder as to the secrecy in her father’s last words to her.  It had been hard doing what he’d asked; to burn her last material link that was his words on paper but she had forced herself to do it as she drank some 18yr old Macallan to their memory in his study the night before.  In her knapsack she had the diary, the ticket, passport, wallet, her laptop and not much else.  All her clothes and the patchwork wool quilt her mother had made for her as well as some photos were all that she was taking with her and they were in the trunk in a sports bag.  It was amazing really how little one could sum up their lives if need be in materialistic terms; and now she didn’t even have a phone having destroyed it as soon as she’d finished her call with Susan.

She looked out the window to the passing green scenery and noted the sign as it flashed by, 14 miles to Heathrow.  14 miles, and then what?  She shivered as ghostly fingers swept her spine at the thought of where she may end up and yet there was a touch of excitement at the back of her mind.  The only clue was her ticket that showed her destination Melbourne, Australia.  As far as she knew she’d only been to Australia once and that had been just after her birth, so there really was no memory of the country or what to expect.  Her father had over the years flown over to there, but then he had also visited many other places; all to do with the corporation he was in charge of.  Although independently wealthy, the Trust was run through the corporation and had been overseen by her father to some degree.  He had been in Australia the month before his and her mother’s death, to see some friends they’d said and for the V&A Art Deco exhibition her mother was launching at a gallery.  Jazz refused to further think of the possible insinuation that had to their deaths and her now travelling to the same place.  She refused to contemplate it at all and carefully unclenched her fingers from the death grip it had on her knapsack, looking as the limousine glided towards the turnstile to drop her off on this unrealistic adventure.

The car stopped and a few moments later, the driver opened the door.  Jazz took a firm grip on the knapsack, a deep breath and swung her legs out of the open door, taking the required steps to the path way.

“Here’s your luggage Miss Chevalier.  Have a pleasant trip.”  He tipped his hat at her as he passed over the leather sports bag that, unknown to him, contained the remainder of her possessions.

“Thank you Jeremy and please thank your bosses.  As always your service has been impeccable.”  She knew she sounded normal, but felt nothing like her usual self.  How easy it was to deceive those around you from the pain and desolation that now occupied her very soul. 

She watched him get back into the car and drive off.  Taking a fortifying breath, she hitched up her bags and made her way to the Emirates lounge to await her flight.  She didn’t need to check in; that could be done from the lounge when she signed in there.  It was just one of the perks in flying first class, a driver to pick you up and all the comforts of a service based lounge whilst one awaited boarding.  Her skin itched.  It had done that a bit over the past few weeks.  Maybe whilst waiting to be called for boarding she’d just have a shower, it helped ease the tension as well as the aching and itching she’d been feeling.  At first she’d thought that she was coming down with the flu or some other lurgy, but her doctor had said it was probably stress, diet and lack of sleep. 

Her teeth even ached at times for God’s sake!  A shower, that’s what I’ll do.  At the lounge a bright, young woman who scanned her membership card as well as her flight pass greeted her.  She then made her way to the women’s bathrooms and locked herself into a room for her shower.  The young attendant at the desk had told her that the flight was at this stage proceeding on time and they would be ready to have her board in another hour.  Time enough for her to bathe, get a meal, some caffeine and pick up a couple of magazines and book for the long 17hr flight.

The water felt good sluicing over her head and shoulders.  She washed her hair and then just stood under the pounding stream, her eyes closed as the ache and itchiness disappeared down the drain with the suds.  Finally Jazz turned off the water, dried off and wrapped a towel around her hair and body.  After lathering her body in her mother’s special body cream, she sat at the dressing table to dry her long hair.  She loved watching it dry; as it dried red and gold glints picked up the light from the dark brown.  Her dad had had the same colour and he called it whiskey like his favourite Macallan.  Finally dry and dressed in comfortable jeans, t-shirt and ballet flats, Jazz went to have her meal.  

Fantasy

Over the past few weeks I've been watching the new BBC Tv series called Merlin.  It really has reminded me of my enjoyment with the fantasy genre, and not just in novels but also film, pictures etc.  As usual the Brits have done themselves proud.  It's the story of a young man who is to fulfill a great prophecy but can only do so with one other.  Arthur is not King at this time, he is the crown prince who is a bit of an arrogant prat.  But as the series progresses we come to admire him and his difficult position within Uther Pendragon's Camelot.  I wholly urge all my friends to give it a try.  This series has prodded me to get my butt into gear (and what a butt it is!) and attempt to read Le Mort d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Mallory.  It's not something that I would have normally picked up as a rendition of the Arthurian Legend, I mean T.H. White's Once and Future King is much more to my liking, however it is not on my required reading list for history next year and Sir Thomas' book is.

After I've read that I think that I will get into Christopher Paolini's last book Brisingr since I still haven't read it.  Funnily enough I'm in a little slump when it comes to reading.  I haven't got much enthusiasm for any of my books, even the new ones that I've just purchased.  I think that it has to do with the tiredness this season seems to bring out in people.  You rush everywhere and get nowhere except more tired.  with that note, I have a friend popping in for Christmas drinks & nibbles shortly so I must go and get some things organised.  I've written quite a bit on my story and will post another chapter either tonight or tomorrow.

Customer Service?

I'm sorry to those who have heard it all before but today's post is going to be a rant because I am so pissed off that I need to vent.  I received a phone call just over a week ago from the owner of what used to be my favourite store.  Due to essays, exams and a new job plus all other usual incidentals I had not been in to visit this store for a while.  The question posed to me was: was there any reason that I had not been in to this store?  I explained that I had been busy but I had previously explained my various issues with the owner and they had not been rectified, nor had I received any customer satisfaction in response to the various issues and thus felt that the store was no longer an exemplary service based 'enjoyable' experience but more likened to that of the dreaded franchise establishments.

During our conversation, to which the new owner kept me on my mobile for over 20 minutes,this owner after receiving explanations of issues I had with the management of the business went on to make excuses AGAIN and turn the blame of the issues upon me - the customer!!!  There was also mention of a series of novels which they had on hold for me.  I explained that the series was short by 3 books and that we were awaiting confirmation of the series in its entirety being available for collection.  The owner said that she would look into it and let me know.  However, since I have not had any response, I as of yesterday cancelled the order.  The time length of the hold was due to continued mismanagement (her view of customer service) as we were willing to pick them up complete at any time.  Today I have received this :

I think this is unreasonable as we have spent literally hours on this

order and have bought them all firm sale and had them sitting around

waiting to be picked up since October.  We have many orders sitting here

for yourself and Lisa, including some DVDs being held since July.  I

have now cancelled all of your (both yours & Lisa's) orders and returned

them to stock as they are well beyond the one week hold time we give to

other customers.  

We actually like people to buy books off our shelves occasionally as

special orders require lots of extra work and other customers tend to

appreciate that we have offered them a special service that they

wouldn't get elsewhere.  I am aware that you are unlikely to return to

Robinson's but I want you to know that neither yourself nor Lisa have

privileges to special order books from here again.  You can buy books

from the shelf, but we will no longer order in or reserve titles for

you.  You will need to buy books off the shelf to use up your points

next year.

I am sorry that you have not had a good experience on your last few

visits to the store, but you need to understand we are a new Robinsons -

and we are shifting our focus to new customers who are less demanding

and critical.  

I wish you good day.

Susanne Horman

Robinsons Bookshop

And this is supposed to be a customer service business????  This is woman (that's being pleasant) is nothing more than a ridiculous excuse for a person who has such airs upon herself that she needs to go to a special school to fully comprehend what customer service is.  Obviously the fact that the customer is always right has totally passed this person by - this only applies if you fawn and give her a colonoscopy!  

Enough of my rant - To all of my friends that read this I'm sure you know how vindictive I can be when I KNOW I'm in the right - best & worst marketing in the world is word of mouth....we shall see how far she can dig her grave in the retail world in such a community as this where contacts are all important.

Hugs to all & warm fuzzies to you faithful all.

Could this actually be SUMMER??

Today I went into the city to do some shopping....and oh my God it seemed that Summer may have been listening to my mild rant that it had failed to show up, because it reached 32 degrees.  Not the best time to decide to A) catch public transport & B) buy up bulky-ish items.  So, now here I am, lazing on my bed, listening to the cicadas make their twang style music, and wondering if I can be bothered going to the outside freezer for an ice cream.  The upside was that I did get some nifty things including a couple of tops.

I also visited the wonderful ladies at Rendezvous (a specialist Romance Book store) and got another 4 books to add to my pile of 'to be read'.  So saying I have once again begun my writing and this one will be a paranormal romance (teasing the lines of romantica).  Here's the prologue for you if you are interested... if not catch my next posting:

Prologue

12 Months Ago

‘Knock, knock, knock.’

She didn’t want to answer it.  Whoever was at the door could just go away and leave her alone.  Hers parents were dead, never laughing in the kitchen or nagging her on the state of her bedroom even though she was well past her teenage years at twenty-two.  ‘I’m sorry, so sorry Jasmine.  Please let us know if we can do anything for you.’  Well, they couldn’t, no one could.  Could they bring them back? No.

“Jasmine, its Aunt Susan, please open the door love.” Ha!  Aunt Susan couldn’t stand her and the feeling was mutual, so there must be someone there with her for her to call her any sort of endearment.  Bitchy thought but a fact nonetheless.  “Jasmine, come on now.  There’s someone here that says he’s a friend of your parents and needs to talk to you.  Jasmine, he’s from the government.”  So, that was it.  Someone from the authorities was there and had just confirmed her aunt’s feelings about her parents by just being here to see her.

There was some mumbling on the other side of the door, then silence.  Good, maybe they’ll finally leave me the hell alone.  Five days ago everything had been fine.  She still shared a house with her parents, they led separate lives but they were there.  She’d been away at an academics conference when someone had broken in and murdered them.  Since then Jazz had had to deal with reporters, the authorities (who didn’t have a clue) and worst of all her insincere aunt.  Now she was all alone; it was hard to even wander the house as they haunted every space and shadow.  It was all too hard.  Dragging the old patchwork blanket over her Jazz snuggled under the comforting wool in hopes of sleeping without dreams.

Somewhere in her dreams she thought she heard a voice murmuring to her; something about there being a time in the near future when she would have to deal with something but that he would be there…but it was all a dream.  Wasn’t it? So Jazz forgot all about it.