The DOMINO CAPER—A BLAKE-E MYSTERY

It is early October, 2015, and finally my children’s book is complete.

This project began as an assignment I completed for the online Creative Writing course that I studied, through The Writers Bureau, during 2011 and 2012.

What started as a two-thousand-word introduction for a children’s book is now published on Amazon Kindle. Whilst excited the finished product is out-there, so to speak, for me the completion of any major endeavour always brings a sense of unsettled resignation. More than once I have said: “The destination may well be rewarding, but the journey takes the prize”.

Following positive feedback from my tutor, I developed the plot for a junior novel—turning three chapters into fifteen. During this process, I entertained the notion of producing the illustrations. As I pondered this idea, I decided my protagonist, Blake Edun-Espinoza, would make models to help solve his classroom mystery. As Blake says; “… detectives on TV shows construct whole crime scenes to figure out stuff so cut-outs aren’t a silly idea”.

The task then was to produce a chapter-book, create paper-craft models, and use these in pictures for the finished product. As well as using dedicated writing software to keep track of the plot and chapters, I have endeavoured to master online manuscript editing, a new desktop-publisher, drawing program and photo-shop software. What a buzz!

From countless rewrites and edits to enough cardboard cut-outs to fill a wheelie bin, not to mention lost, unsaved files (DOH) and multi-layered photo-creations, I now understand how the French playwright, Moliere, felt when he said: “Long is the road from conception to completion”.

THE DOMINO CAPER—A BLAKE-E MYSTERY is an early-chapter reader for children aged four to ten years and their parents. Two other BLAKE-E mysteries have been written with illustrations yet to be finalised. “The ALPHABET CAPER” and “The BLLY-BUCK CAPER” will be published in the coming months.

Click on the picture below to investigate my new book in detail along with downloads specifically produced to accompany the story.

Now, I even find myself quoting Blake. My yarns are written in the first person, from Blake’s perspective, and after hours spent working on cardboard ‘Blakes’, Blake actions and Blake responses, it’s little wonder. Sometimes I think I’m morphing into a microcosm of Blake’s school experiences.

Anyway, enough of the waffle.

Please share this page with anyone you think might like to hear about “The DOMINO CAPER”.

 

“A children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story in the slightest.” C S Lewis (1898 –1963) British novelist, poet and academic.

 

‘THE FINEST MEMORIAL’—A REFLECTION

My childhood recollections of ANZAC day are fleeting—stories of Simpson’s donkey together with “The Dam Busters” on our seventeen-inch, black and white, Logie-Baird box.

As I write, a warm glow filters through the light cloud and eucalypts. My thoughts, however, stray to a different landscape and a time past.

In Hay, the Riverina town I called home in the 70’s, a frosty daybreak broods over the approaching ANZAC commemorations. Already, many have braved the cold for the dawn service. Throughout the day the community unveils a solemn perspective and draws me into its ethos.

In World War I, 631 men from Hay enlisted, one of the highest per capita rates in Australia. One hundred and three did not return and this devastated the small close-knit community.

Following the Great War, this outback town decided their War Memorial should be a secondary school—a unique cenotaph—dedicated to the memory of those who died. Public donations contributed to almost half the cost of the project and the Hay War Memorial High School was officially opened on April 25th, 1923. On its completion the then Governor General, Lord Stonehaven, referred to the construction as the “Finest War Memorial … in the Empire”.

Two marble pillars frame the school’s front doors. Like sentinels, they identify the locals who died in World War 1. Inside, a modest auditorium is surrounded by classrooms on three sides. An honour board, charting all who enlisted, covers the western wall and from the blackboard in my room I can read the names. Occasionally I notice a surname identical to one of the students. Here, the present is linked with history past.

The school song echoes the school motto—‘For so much what shall we repay’—and Anzac Day represents a significant event for the school. The band, comprising pupils and community members, accompanies the marchers to the grounds in front of this historic building. For the Student Captains, the service which follows defines their most prominent speaking engagement.

Diggers—from all conflicts—stand alongside children and grandchildren. Following a pensive rendition of “Abide With Me”, the crowd disperses.
There is no celebration here. Words rarely interrupt the circumspect stillness. Quiet reflection is tinged with anguish for a community devastated by tragic conflicts.

“Lest We Forget”

“The pursuit of peace and progress … can never be relaxed and never abandoned.”
Dag Hammarskjold  (1905-1961)  Swedish Secretary-General of the United Nations,  Nobel Peace Prize winner.

ANZAC Day:  ‘ANZAC’ stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps.
Simpson’s donkey: John Simpson became an Australian hero in World War 1, rescuing wounded soldiers with his donkey.
The Dam Busters: (1955) a British Second World War film.
Diggers: In Australia and New Zealand the word ‘digger’ means ‘soldier’  http:

The late 1960’s found Australia involved in an Asian conflict, and I too “was only nineteen”.

The “tin hare” rattled and clattered. Like my college peers, I had requested a city school. Limited vacancies in the “big smoke”, however, had resulted in a thirteen hour journey to western NSW. The railway terminated, and I alighted.

During the day, the mercury had surged to 117^oF Yes, you read correctly, a temperature above forty-seven degrees Centigrade—still a record for the town. The disappearing dusk heralded the onset of a stifling evening.

For a naive teetotaller, the prospect of a room in an outback pub was daunting. Not knowing the whereabouts of my pre-booked lodgings I boarded the waiting taxi. I swear the short drive to our destination took less time than extracting my bags from the car boot.

At the hotel, I walked in on a Friday night birthday bash for the hotelier’s daughter. As nervous as a ten-year old out front of the Principal’s office, I clutched the formal letter of introduction given me by the booking agency.

“G’day mate”, welcomed Ted. “So you’re the new teacher; park ya gear and come and join the celebration.” I scrunched the note, clearly inappropriate, and took a deep breath.

“Minimal”, best describes the accommodation. Swinging a bilby in the room would have proved difficult: two beds, token cupboards, and a try-hard window. My door, like several others, opened to an area partly enclosed by wire screening. The concrete floor of this larger space sloped towards the centre and acted as a rainwater drain. A plethora of potted plants attempted to make the enclosure accommodating.

Indescribable heat, combined with reverberating sleeping sounds from roommate Duncan, resulted in three sleepless nights. I had but a couple of days to explore the town before embarking on the first day of my teaching career.

Would I survive?
“So long as you have courage and a sense of humour, it is never too late to start life afresh.” Freeman Dyson (1923-) British/American mathematician, physicist.

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A regular guy our principal – you could set the staffroom clock by his bowel motions.

In the sixties, a tin shed functioned as our boys’ toilet block—three cubicles and a two-metre urinal. The dungeon-style key for the male-staff cubicle hung above Mr Wilson’s desk.

Each morning, around the same time, the headmaster sauntered into the staffroom. His routine rarely changed—questions about test marks, comments addressing the behaviour of Anthony in 3B, a reference to the previous evening’s P and C meeting, even a stab at the weather. However, we knew his motive.

Clearing his throat, he’d stretch up, pocket the said key, and disappear. Next, so as not to make his mission obvious, he would wander through the quadrangle, offering students the occasional greeting until, in an unobtrusive fashion, he reached his destination.

On this day, that customary procedure would be challenged. We all heard his awkward sigh.

“The key is missing.” Not loud, but audible, because he did expect an answer. Nobody moved.

“Has anyone seen the key?” His voice conveyed a hint of urgency.

“I saw it a moment ago,” said Mr Wilson. He squirmed on his chair but didn’t look up. An uncomfortable silence followed, all heads still down.

“Hmmmpf” The principal stomped from the room. He had located the key which, although functional, was now noticeable in the extreme. Yes, today his excursion might prove a tad embarrassing.

A visit to the Industrial Arts Department would be the next assignment for the boss. “Not happy Mr Steele”—the metalwork teacher would receive a reprimand as clearly appreciation for his gag had gone awry.

Why? Alan had soldered to the key a heavy, twisted-steel handle over a metre in length.

“A taste for irony has kept more hearts from breaking than a sense of humour, for it takes irony to appreciate the joke that is on oneself.” Mary Jessamyn West (1902-1984) American Writer

Notes:

• The P and C is the Parents and Citizens Association—the parent group associated with the school.

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TOM, DICK AND HARRY

I had no dealings with the Dynamic Duo, but I did teach the Troublesome Trio.

These Cardiff kids were smarter than Banjo Patterson’s “gilded youths” and not clones of the Three Stooges. You might say they were more akin to the Three Wise Monkeys; perpetrators of mischief who neither heard, nor saw, nor said anything amiss.

To protect them, and myself, I will refer to them as Tom, Dick and Harry.

Tom mouthed crude expressions to the wrong people. Limited in imagination, his abuse always related to taxidermy skills. He needed speech therapy. My sessions with Tom and his mum though, struggled to modify his behaviour.

Dick, an upsized kid, was a bully. His stature and cheek intimidated others, and if cornered he came out fighting—verbally and physically.

In contrast, Harry did not have the dubious attributes of his mates. A quiet loner who gravitated to his cronies in the belief they accepted him. True, they treated him as a punching bag, but Harry reckoned some attention was preferable to none.

Now these guys all marched to the beat of the same drum—inseparable. It did seem unfair that, when the group courted trouble, Harry was largely “guilty by association”.

At the end of Junior School, Tom and Dick left. Harry, in the Senior School, stood out like a chicken sexer at the neurosurgeon’s ball; introverted, isolated, and academically challenged.

Sure he faltered. Nonetheless, as the weeks progressed he found his own line to walk. This time, instead of following in the “vans” of others, he strived for his personal objectives. With trepidation he made new friends and discovered subjects which provided a measure of success. One sensed an inner resolve.

Try as I might, I cannot recall his quiz results for the final year.

Then again, test scores are not always the pinnacle of High School. Maturity and self-reliance bring greater rewards.

“Too many people overvalue what they are not, and undervalue what they are.”

Malcolm Forbes (1919-1990) Publisher

Notes

• The “Dynamic Duo” were, of course, Batman and Robin.
• The “gilded youths” is a quote from A B “Banjo” Patterson’s poem, “The Man from Ironbark”.
• The “Three Wise Monkeys”, (sometimes called the three mystic apes), originated in Japan and embody the notion to “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil”.

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BALANCING SQUARES AND CUBES

John ruptured the silence as he leapt to his feet and heaved the chair towards the corner of the room.

Year 7 students enjoy squiggling ancient Egyptian numerals—at least for a short time. It was Hay in the seventies. Ten minutes into my lesson, on early number systems, a sharp knock sounded at the door. An enthusiastic youngster, with a voice reminiscent of a boat horn, stuck her head in the classroom.

“Sir, John’s gotta go to reading”. Like a shaken bottle of lemonade, John exploded. He resented leaving the group to improve his language know-how.

Without basic reading skills, however, other classroom content becomes formidable. Mathematics is no exception. A problem couched in words often belies the simplicity of the sums involved.

I did teach kids with reading difficulties who learnt to decipher the required sum from the presentation of the digits. For example, a question containing a string of numbers might suggest an addition is needed. Alternatively, two numbers, one large and one small could be a division. The problem is, you don’t travel far with these dubious techniques.

But back to John whose demeanour had darkened in a twinkling. He freewheeled from amiable to aggro, tipping his table forward, and sending pens and pencils flying—a tantrum that left us all gobsmacked.

Everybody waited. Nobody said a word.

His dilemma? Being withdrawn from mainstream lessons labelled John as “special”. This had overtones of “different” even “abnormal” and hey, no one wants to be a square in a room of cubes. Additional assistance in the classroom might have proved a suitable alternative.

And John? Having upended both his desk and seat, packed up his belongings and made a hasty exit.

“Then the silence closed upon us”: appropriate sentiments from the pen of Rudyard Kipling. To put it bluntly—silence is not only golden, but a relief.

“Children learn to read by being in the presence of books. The love of knowledge comes with reading …”  Horace Mann (1796-1859) American Education Reformer 

Notes

• “Then the silence closed upon us,” quoted from the poem, ‘In the Neolithic Age’ by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) English short-story writer, poet, and novelist.
• A cube is a Platonic solid named after Plato (428-348BC) although some credit Pythagoras (570-495) with their discovery. It is also called a hexahedron because it is a polyhedron that has 6 (hexa- means 6) faces.

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