Take the long way home..
No, not that quite wonderful song by Supertramp, but why I've been somewhat absent lately.
I received the dreaded call a few months ago now and began to plan the arduous, soul-searching and cathartic journey back to the Motherland, in order that I could say a final, heart-wrenching and fond farewell to my dear old mum, the woman, the former naval officer and single parent who raised me through some adversity to be the man I am today. I was only able to stand at her funeral and read my eulogy - some of the toughest lines an author can ever truly write - by virtue of the support and love of my family and friends and an incredibly understanding work team who fought valiantly to enable my 'release' at a time of major operational importance.
The journey is a book in itself and the people I met this time more than merely players. The curse of an author is that everywhere we go, literally every-bloody-where there's a story to be told; one to discreetly listen to in a café, or observe in the street, anywhere, everywhere, and honestly, it's a blessed curse!
I travelled from London Heathrow to Kent, the Garden of England and re-connected with my old town, re-traced the steps of my childhood, touched now much taller trees, reminisced, smiled, took a moment, stood on the majestic White Cliffs of Dover and stared across the channel to France. I watched the ferries busily criss-crossing the ocean, and aircraft white-lining the bright blue sky with their contrails. I said many fond goodbyes, nodded to people I thought I may have once known, women that could have once been girlfriends, then finally, lovingly, I scattered my mum's ashes on those same cliffs, watched them become one with the wind, and as they climbed towards the heavens I wept.
The next day I headed north, back to where I learned the noble art of policing, and many years before met the future Mrs H - back to meet with old and truly wonderful friends - friends who without condition will give up their home, lend you their hearts and fill your stomachs with great food and your mind with wonderful, colourful memories. It was this chapter of the long way home that makes the immense journey more bearable (as if any long-haul journey in economy can ever actually be called bearable...)
We travelled everywhere in that (expensively) rented new Kia Sportage - the one that started life in my tenure without any dents and ended up thus (Top tip: always take photos of every panel and wheel when you rent a car folks!) - we visited the stateliest of homes, trod the footsteps of kings and queens and a few vagabonds and even ventured into the bedchamber of the legendary Bess of Hardwick Hall - now she was one formidable lady - Downton Abbey eat your heart out!
Mrs H and I shook hands, hugged, laughed and not once did we get Covid. Not a sniffle, or a chill as England put on a sublime show of beautiful British weather for a whole month and we revelled in its beauty. The time came, as it always does, to say goodbye to family and friends - it is easily the worst part of arriving, the suppressed brick-in-the-stomach feeling as you know the clock is already ticking the moment you land. But you live for every moment and boy was it a blast!
Any return trip always encompasses a stand down in somewhere exotic, to perhaps dream up a new story, this time it was a return to the hedonistic, historical and downright humid Hong Kong, a place dear to my heart, for it was where Jack Cade found fortune at Happy Valley - read my first novel Seventh if you have no idea! Going back to the Pearl of the Orient was a delight - post-Covid it is still recovering, so any tourist is welcomed with such genuine warmth, and the place, although relatively small is still a crackerjack visit for any tourist. I'll let you Google what there is to do. Day or night it is a joy to navigate around whether on foot, by tram, bus or the brilliant MTR underground system which redefines cheap and efficient travel. If you want a truly beautiful hotel recommendation with great staff who go the extra mile over everything, then look no further than the Harbour Grand - tell them I sent you.
Having returned home full of ideas I also ended up full of Covid - then 48hrs after testing negative and emerging from seven days of isolation I ended up with proper 'flu - not your mythical man-flu, the real McCoy, the shakes, the fever-based dreams, you couldn't make it up! The good news is I've been sat under a blanket for a few days and the mind has started to wander again and my goodness has it come up with a cracking new story? The dilemma now is do I finish Orchard Road first or park it up and unleash this beast that is keeping me awake at night? One thing's for sure, no one else has written about it and it would lend itself so well to television. Perhaps 2024 is the year that Jack finally appears on your TV screens - who knows, I certainly have an actor in mind - he's British, rugged, handsome, has a familiarity that endears him to you immediately and above all he's a very nice chap - giving me so many reasons to hate him, but you just can't and he really would make a superb Cade - let me know your thoughts on this, the new book and anything else, just not politics!
As always, I value those thoughts as much as I value your wonderful support. Stay well!
Lewis x
