Half-way mark passed.

I’m preparing this post the afternoon of Sunday; yesterday in other words.

In terms of progress, I’m over 29,000 words. Thus well and truly beyond the half-way mark.  However, more and more as the days pass and the words flow on to the screen, I having severe doubts about the literary quality of my writing.  My view is that it is far too reportorial in style.  Those who follow comments will have seen my comment last Friday in reply to Sue Dreamwalker.

This is what Sue wrote:

Loved your description here Paul of the interaction between Pharaoh and Betsy, I could almost see them in the paddock, hind leg lifted Lol Pee and all…

How are you enjoying your writing challenge? You seem to be well on track so far…
I hope you are enjoying your weekend
Sue

This was my reply:

Dearest Sue,

Yes, past the half-way point. 25,690 words when I stopped yesterday. In terms of enjoying it, immensely so. Mind you, it’s so auto-biographical to be less of a novel than more a personal ‘dump’!

The weakness that is becoming apparent is that without me outlining a clear plot line before I started writing then two things are happening.

The first is that I haven’t yet really fleshed out the main characters: Philip; Maggie; (Pharaoh!); and, to come, Susannah Middleton.

The second is that I get side-tracked into detailed explanations of people and incidents along the way that don’t really support the ‘story’.

But I have faith that the NaNoWriMo organisation will offer a lead to all the tyro writers who, having finished a very rough draft of their novel, now don’t have a clue as to what to do next!

Anyway, as they say in the old country, it’s keeping me off the streets.

Big hugs from Oregon.

Paul

Anyway, onwards and upwards.  Here’s Chapter Eight, warts and all!

oooOOOooo

Learning from Dogs

Chapter Eight

Over the next two Saturdays Philip returned with Pharaoh and, just as Angela had predicted, Betsy behaved as a normal and self-confident dog.

Thus by the end of March there were two wonderful outcomes.  Pharaoh was clearly the teaching dog that Angela had seen in him and Pharaoh’s first customer, so to speak, Betsy, had overcome her fears, the cause of her antagonistic attitude towards strange dogs.  There was a bonus as well.  Gordon and Angela had a bit of a private chit-chat along the way and Gordon very happily changed his mind about Betsy becoming a participant at Plymouth’s grey-hound racing track.

The weeks settled into a gentle pattern and before Maggie and Philip had really taken it onboard, Pharaoh celebrated his first birthday on June 3^rd, 2004.  He seemed such a permanent part of their lives.  In many ways it felt as though Pharaoh had become a member of a new family.  That this strong, intelligent and sensitive dog had expanded the relationship of two persons, husband and wife, into a family of three with more love and affection than ever before.

The Saturdays over with Angela clearly provided Pharaoh with what in human terms would be described as purpose.  It didn’t take Philip many trips with Pharaoh for him to see something appearing in his dog that just couldn’t be defined in human words.  Angela grew more and more delighted with the way that Pharaoh resolved some quite tricky teaching demands with dogs that had arrived with significant social weaknesses.  Frequently in a single session but just sometimes over a couple of meetings between Pharaoh and the ‘client’.

Before Philip could believe it his sixtieth birthday arrived, was celebrated with enthusiasm in The Church House Inn, passed by and less than eight weeks later 2004 slid into 2005.

Life was a very settled affair.  There was sufficient income from his business mentoring to keep things ticking along, he was much fitter from the exercise of walking Pharaoh, and Maggie and he seemed to be in a very good space together.  She was a fair few years younger than Philip, eighteen to be exact. At times, Philip had longed for a deeper connection between them but gradually came to the conclusion that their difference in ages and backgrounds was the underlying reason for what Philip felt was missing, and that he should move on and just be thankful for what was a good and harmonious relationship.

Autumn of 2005 brought along a lovely event.  Philip had been asked to present at a conference being held at Exeter University.  It was an all-day affair with a number of outside speakers, the purpose of which was to give graduates, on the verge of heading off to the big outside world, an awareness of some of the skills and tools their professional lives might require. Philip’s chosen subject was marketing for the entrepreneur, a topic he was very comfortable with, and the forty-minute session, the second one in the afternoon, had seemed to have gone well. That is, if the bundle of intelligent questions coming from the audience was any measure.  The UK economy was enjoying strong growth along with many other Western countries.  In fact, there were many who felt that this period of economic growth, especially in regard to ever-higher house prices, had an over-heated feel to it.  But the good news was that the economy seemed to be motivating many young people to have a go at starting their own business.

As Philip returned to the table where the speakers were sitting he passed the next speaker walking out towards the podium.  He reflected on the speed at which we form impressions of another person.  For in the two or three seconds it took for each to pass the other, he found the smile offered to him coming from an open and engaging face.

His name was Jonathan Atkins and the title of his talk was ‘Being the best you can.’ A simple but riveting theme, Philip noted.

Jonathan introduced himself and went on to say,

“Ladies and Gentlemen, you stand on the threshold of your life’s journey.  Neither you nor anyone else has the slightest chance of predicting that when you get to my age or more, heaven forbid, and look back over your forty or more years, what vista of your life you will see. But one thing is sure beyond anything.”

There was a slight pause and then Jonathan illuminated his first slide. It read plainly and clearly: Be The Best You Can Be.

Philip hung on to Jonathan’s words and underlying messages for every single minute of the forty-minute presentation.  The critical importance of the relationships that all working people, but especially professional people, make and maintain with all those within their workplaces, and beyond the workplace.  Why, so often, professional people struggle with their relationships in the workplace.  The importance of mindfulness, rapport, holding boundaries, and more.  All of it within a framework of integrity. Philip more than hung on to Jonathan’s every word.  There was something else, something that was beyond his consciousness, something that was stirring him so deeply that it was beyond his reach.

At the end of Jonathan’s presentation, there was a huge plethora of questions from what had obviously been an engaged audience. By the time he stepped down and returned to the speakers’ table  it was time for the afternoon tea-break.  Speakers and audience alike flowed into the adjoining large room where a number of tables, covered in white cotton tablecloths, revealed cups of hot tea and plates of biscuits.

Philip picked a steaming cup, anticipating the pleasure of the hot tea, and moved away from the table area to a broad window looking out over the university buildings and beyond them Exeter’s commercial skyline. He became aware of another person standing close, turned his head and saw that it was Jonathan Atkins.

“Jonathan, I have to say that I found your talk fascinating.” Philip continued, almost without pause, “In fact, using the word fascinating is me opening mouth before engaging brain.”

Philip paused before continuing, noticing a slight smile on Jonathan’s  face.

“What I should have said is that your talk opened doors to places in my mind that I sort of knew were there but could never properly access, let alone describe.  As you can see for someone who should really have the gift of the gab, I’m not immune to grabbing a verbal idea a tad too quickly.”

“Philip, thank you for that generous compliment.” Jonathan seemed to be thinking a little before continuing, “Your presentation was valuable to me as well.  In fact, I wouldn’t mind meeting up with you sometime over the next couple of weeks; wondering if you could offer me some advice relevant to my own business situation, something that I have to decide upon over the coming months?”

“Jonathan, of course, that would be wonderful.  Would love to meet up on any basis.  Hang on a moment while I pull out a card.”

Philip took his black leather wallet that he kept in his rear trouser pocket, unfolded it and drew out a white business card.  He passed it across to Jonathan’s outstretched hand.

“Ah, I see you are not that far from me,” said Jonathan. “We are over at Torquay; can’t be more than ten miles from Harberton.  Let me give you a call sometime over the next week.”

“Look forward to hearing from you. Oh, it looks as though we are all being called back into the room for the last sessions.  As I said, give me a call whenever you want, it’s a home-office set-up and I’m frequently there. We can arrange a time to meet.”

With that, the pair of them returned their empty cups to a nearby table and made their way back to the main auditorium and thence to the speakers’ table.

It was a late afternoon in October, well on into the month, as Philip and Pharaoh were settling themselves back home after a blustery afternoon’s walk over at the woods, when he heard his office phone ringing. He grabbed it just before it went across to voicemail.

“Hi, Philip, it’s Jonathan, how are you?”

“Jonathan, fine thanks, and how are you?” Philip had almost forgotten leaving his card with him.

“Good, and please accept my apologies for not calling you sooner.  Do you remember when we met up at that Exeter Uni event, I wondered about seeing you and you gave me your card?”

“Of course,” came Philip’s reply.

“Well, is that offer still open?”

“Yes, of course,” Philip then adding, “When would you like to meet up, want me to come to your place or meet somewhere neutral, as it were?”

“Well if that was OK with you, you coming over to the house in Torquay would be very helpful.”

They kicked around a few dates and settled on the 15^th November, a Tuesday Philip saw as he looked at his wall calendar.

“What time would suit you, Jonathan?”

“Well if 9:30 wasn’t too early for you, that would be perfect.  I know that Helen, my wife, has to go out around then for most of the morning, so it would let me explain what’s in my mind without feeling I should be giving Helen a hand.  I’m so rarely at home during the day just now.”

Jonathan then read his address out to Philip over the phone, that he in turn read back as a double-check, then declined Jonathan’s instructions as to how to get there. Philip knew pretty well where the house was in Torquay, and that was that.

He said to Jonathan, “See you in a little under four weeks,” and they closed the call.

So, as they inevitably do, the days and weeks soon passed and on that Tuesday morning in November, with the tail end of an Atlantic weather low chasing low clouds away from tops of Devon hills, Philip drove across to Jonathan and Helen’s house near Preston, just a short distance along the coast road out of Torquay.

In a million years, he couldn’t have predicted, not even dreamt, what consequences would flow from the meeting.

1,725 words. Copyright © 2013 Paul Handover

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