Monday, 26 June 2023

A Life of Fiestas and Tapas

 

      Since restrictions due to the covid epidemic were lifted here in the Canary Islands, normal service of our local tradition of fiestas has now resumed.

   
    Someone once said to me, "There's always a reason to party here in the Canaries, we have many to commemorate, firstly we have Our lady, followed by the saints, farmers and fishermen." This explanation I can now confirm is accurate and true.


    Fiestas are a time for friends, neighbours and family to gather together eat food, drink local wine and dance the night away.

      For example last weekend was the, Fiesta de San Juan.  The celebrations started on St John's Eve, June 23, with many places burning bonfires on the coast, honoring the arrival of the summer sun and protection against the wandering evil spirits.


     On the 24th, El BaƱo de Las Cabras takes place in, Puerto de la Cruz. Shepherds bring their goats and horses to the harbour of the city, to bathe them in the Atlantic Ocean. This annual event is both a purification and fertility ritual, and while slightly bizarre to many, it is definitely a crowd pleaser.


     I just love these islands, the people and the traditions. I've included some pictures of the fantastic cuisine you can find here and of course I couldn't forget about the goats.

    Have a great day. 

   

 ⌗Tenerife ⌗Food ⌗Tapas ⌗wine ⌗Fiestas    

Thursday, 22 June 2023

Hyperlink to Lost Souls Chapter 3 (Book Extract)

Day Three: Clued up?


   Si, Beth, and I are on the outskirts of town. The landscape is flat and very, very snowy. We’re zipping about all over the place on our snowmobiles. I’m having the time of my life; of my angelet’s life anyway.

    My new amigos are up ahead; they’re taking me to a spot where we can do some fishing. I need to tell you about Beth, she is sooo beautiful with her black, bobbed, chin-length hair and those ebony eyes. She looks so sad sometimes, I just want to hug her and k… Here I go again.

    Now, Si is a good-looking dude too. He’s not dissimilar to Beth, except he’s a dude and eh, his hair isn’t bobbed, and eh… Listen, he’s a handsome dude. I feel as though I’m digging myself into a deep hole, trying to describe the guy. Goodness, use your imagination. We must have reached the place because they’ve stopped.
    “Is this the place you were telling me about?” I pull up behind them.
    “Yes, this is it. First one to catch a fish doesn’t have to clean or cook. ” says Si.
    “Okay with me. But I’m a bit feckless when it comes to cooking or fishing come to think of it,” I say.
    “We’ll see how feckless you are because I’m the best fisherman around,” boasts Si.
    “Whoa, boy, nothing like blowing your own trumpet,” I say. I slap him hard across the back. He knocks me over onto the ground and we start play wrestling. There’s only going to be one loser in this mock fight—Aagh!— not me. Beth has just smeared a big piece of icy snow allover my face. It’s a pity it wasn’t her I was wrestling with in the snow. Aaagh! 

    Beth kindled the fire, while, yes, I gutted the fish. Si has done nothing but brag about the size of his catch. Both of these kids are accustomed to the outdoor life and are now enjoying the heat from the fire, which was soon blazing. Their catch is in a large frying pan, blackened by the soot from the fire. Notice I said their catch; that’s because I caught nada.

    “Are you enjoying yourself, Dan?” asks Si.
    “Yes, I am very much and you look as though you are too. I must say you both seem a lot happier than you were when we first set off this morning,” I say.
    I’m putting the burnt offerings out onto the three tin plates and I can now settle down by the fire on one of the little collapsible stools Beth packed.
    “We hate when the so-called grown-ups argue,” says Beth.
    “She says so-called because they weren’t acting like grown-ups at all. We hate when dad and Charlie are at each other’s throats,” Si sighs. Beth nods in agreement
with her brother.
    “That’s understandable. Do they argue often?” I ask. I’m tucking in, so excuse my speaking with my mouth full.
    “Well, since…” Si hesitates. “Hey, I’ve said enough already.” He looks down at his plate and he starts to fiddle with a piece of herring.
    “Since what?” I ask.
    “Please don’t tell dad I’ve told you this. They were arguing about Ruth,” says Beth. “Who is Ruth?” I ask.
    “Our sister,” blurts out Si.
    “Oh, where is she then?” If I sound surprised, it’s because I am. This is the first I’ve heard about an additional member of the family.
    “We don’t know,” says Beth.

    Pick me up, I’ve just fallen over. Don’t worry, I haven’t actually fallen over. My goodness, you take everything so literally, don’t you? You haven’t changed one bit. Listen, I’ve no time to explain every little thing to you. I’m just getting to the juicy bit.
    “When did she go missing?” I ask.
    “Six months ago,” says Si. His eyes are filled with tears and he’s scratching his fork across his plate.
    “What happened to her?” I ask.

    Beth looks at her brother and says, “Actually, we’re not sure. You see, Ruth has always been rather rebellious. She seemed to hate everything about her life. Although we’re triplets, sometimes she was like a stranger to us. She was never interested in school; she never handed
in her homework assignments on time. Sometimes she didn’t even hand them in and her grades were poor.
    “On numerous occasions her behavior was so bizarre that we thought she may be taking drugs. Then there were the times that she came home under the influence of alcohol. Falling about, swearing, totally and utterly bizarre. Our parents were losing patience with her and
for that reason, we think she decided to run away from home.”

    “So, your mum, dad, your grandfather, and the police all believe she ran away?” I ask.
    “We searched high and low for her. We can’t find her anywhere. We’ve given up hope of ever finding her,” says Si.
    “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. But why were they arguing about her?” I ask inquisitively.
    “Charlie keeps saying Ruth is dead and her soul has
been stolen. Her soul is being held captive on the Island of Lost Souls. He says if we don’t get it back soon, she is destined for the afterlife,” says Si.
    “I take Stan doesn’t believe him?” Cough, cough, cough. I’m choking on my herring and tears are running down my face. Si’s about to pay me back for slapping him hard earlier. Whack! Whack! That’s the noise of my shoulder blades exiting my body via my chest.
    “Of course not. Stan started calling him an old fool and that’s when you came in,” says Beth.
    “It is a bit farfetched,” I croak my words.
    “Is it?” says Si. He’s staring at me. “Yeah, you’re right, it is a little farfetched. Dad said Charlie’s imagination is playing tricks on him.” He shakes his head, then pushes a piece of bread and fish into his mouth. 

    Beth stays silent, thank goodness. I felt as though my head was on a swivel when they were speaking. You ask one a question and the other one answers; it must be because they shared their mom’s womb. At least I have a clearer picture of what’s going on here. I knew at some
point soon I would get an inkling as to why I was here in Tuk. Looks like I just got my first clue.


Hyperlink Chapter 1 Extract1

Hyperlink Chapter 1 Extract 2 

Hyperlink Chapter 2 Extract 1 

Hyperlink Chapter 2 Extract 2 




Tuesday, 20 June 2023

Here Comes the Sun

 

    April 1963, three young men from Liverpool, UK packed their suitcases and headed for Puerto de la Cruz, Tenerife, the Canary Islands. They had been recording their first album in the EMI studios, in Abbey Road, London and now needed a break.

    These, lads were called Paul, George and Ringo. The fourth member of the pop group, John had decided to go it alone and holiday elsewhere in Spain. Whether, you were born in 1963 or not, I'm sure you will recognize the name of the band, The Beatles.

    If you read my blog, or follow me on Instagram you will know that I’m a regular visitor to this beautiful city and when I was back there in May I couldn’t help but think about them walking the same streets and taking in the same beauty as I was.

    I’ve included a few photographs of some of the same places that I know they visited. Although sixty years on, the place has probably changed a little! 

    It’s the first time I can say  that I’ve followed in the Beatles footsteps. If you want to see any more of my photographs, catch me on Instagram @christinarowellauthor.

  Hoping you’re having a great week guys and we’ll catch up soon.

Sunday, 30 April 2023

No Kissing Required CHAPTER ONE

 

Limbo

 
    My name’s Dan Pierce; whether or not that’s my birth name, I don’t really know. You’re asking; why don’t I know my identity? Good question. But there’s also a good answer; I’m Dea...d, and my earthbound memories have been totally wiped out. I’m finding the D word kind of hard to say, so excuse me. That revelation shocked you, didn’t it? Well it came as quite a blow to me. In fact, it’s a bit of a bummer, when you wake up and realize you’re now a spiritual being.

    I’ve discovered that entry into heaven is no mean feat. It’s like starting a new college, or university, the powers that be want to make sure that you’re qualified for the tasks ahead. When you reach the pearly gates they don’t say, “Hey you’re dead, come on in.”

    Firstly, your name’s got to be checked against God’s database. It used to be called the Book of  Life; well it still is, but it’s no longer etched on tablets of stone, or written on papyrus. No way, Heaven has invested in a high tech computer system and the gatekeeper accesses the information via an android tablet. I couldn’t believe it; the miracles of modern science will never cease to amaze.

    Back to the Book of Life, it’s literally a journal of your existence. You know, birth name, where you were born, achievements, disappointments, the good and the bad things you did; of course, it helps if you’ve led a blemish free life and I don’t mean a life without zits. Finally, it states where, when, and how you died. Now this data allows God and his trusted elders to judge as to whether you’re celestial material.

    When I arrived several days ago, or was it several years ago? Time isn’t measured the same way here. Sorry I’m rambling, put it down to shock. I don’t even know if it’s relevant as to when I arrived, what is relevant to me is the fact that I didn’t actually know my name, never mind how I died. But seemingly, this isn’t so uncommon.

    However, there was a complication in my case and that was the gatekeeper didn’t know my details either and he certainly wasn’t expecting me. He had no note of my arrival, nada. To cut a long story short, I didn’t get in. I was named Daniel Pierce, for the sake of the records and whisked away to Limbo, tout de suite.

    That’s when I got the devastating news; take a deep breath because this is a shocker. I was told that if they couldn’t establish who I was, or why I was there, I’d be thrown into the Lake of Fire for a second death. Well knock me down with a feather, if it wasn’t bad enough
that I’d died already, I was to die again. No right to appeal, no chance of a reprieve.

    Well that was until Mikey, sorry, I mean Archangel Michael, arrived in Limbo yesterday, to speak to me and a bunch of undesirables. He explained that there was a chance of salvation, all was not lost, we could prove that we were worth saving.

    He proposed that we enlist in God’s army to help defeat the Red Rider, aka Satan and his foot soldiers who are attempting to flex their muscles on Earth. It seems that Satan has escaped from the burning sulfur lake and he is determined to seek revenge on God for the years he has lived in torment. He is proving to be elusive, his army is growing stronger every day, and Heaven needs all the help it can get.

    Duh, now who would say no to this opportunity of redemption? Surprisingly enough, some of my fellow suspected hoods did decline. They didn’t fancy doing good deeds, obeying God’s word, or Devil slaying. But I said, “Bring it on.”

    Sooo, that’s where I’m at in my celestial career. By the way, I’m now an angelet, which is another name for a probationary angel. How long will my internship last? Well how long is a piece of string?

    Guys, I’m about to embark on an important journey and I could do with good friends like you around. What I’m saying is, I’d like you to tag along. I’ll need someone to sound off to. How about it? I believe I’ll be boarding a bus in Las Vegas tomorrow, headed for Phoenix. I hope to see you then.

 https://www.amazon.com/No-Kissing-Required-Salvation-Book-ebook/dp/B08GD315P1

 

No Kissing Required PROLOGUE




Arizona, six months earlier


    What’s happening? How did this all spiral out of control? The sixteen-year-old boy is confused. With the promises of no rules to obey, eternal life, and sex anytime he wants, with anyone he so desires; yeah, who wouldn’t be tempted? Besides, no money need change hands.

     However, payment was expected; of course, there was a charge for Utopia. Deep down, he had known it was all too good to be true. The price was non-negotiable, no haggling, no cutting a better deal was possible. What he had been asked for in exchange was priceless, and he just wasn’t prepared for it. No, selling his soul to the Devil wasn’t something he would ever be prepared for and something he wasn’t going to do.

    Therefore, he was now fleeing for his life, he needed to get away from Wingate and fast. Luckily, for him, the road was quiet. He had been driving for about an hour, he had only seen one other vehicle in that time and it was following close behind. It had joined the road about three miles back; the driver had not attempted to overtake and was unlikely to do so now, due to the byroad’s narrowness. At first he had thought it was a police car following. Somehow, they may have been alerted that he had stolen his father’s car, but eventually he had decided it was unlikely his father would notice it was gone before morning.

    The tailgating car suddenly closes the distance between them and it’s headlights illuminate the rear-view mirror of the boy’s vehicle; blinding him on every turn and twist of the winding road. He presses his foot down, hard onto the gas pedal, but the car’s response is sluggish. The young driver is certain that the engine is protesting at being pushed so hard.

The two cars reach the summit of the climbing road and the fearful teenager knows that the ground drops steeply down away from the side. He can’t see the bottom of the ravine, it’s as though it’s lurking in the bowels of the earth.

    “What the?” the teenage boy yells with surprise, as the pursuing car gently nudges the rear bumper of his. He moves forward slightly in his seat, but his seat belt clicks and saves him from being hurt in any way. His foot is flat to the floor, but his vehicle continues to struggle to pull away from its pursuer. The boy grips the steering wheel as though he’s on a white-knuckle ride at the fairground. The road widens around the last bend and will start to drop downhill, towards Highway 87. He hopes the maniac following him will pass then.

    Both cars are now traveling at high speed and the awkward curves of the road are hard to negotiate. The inexperienced driver is finding the steering heavy and he knows he is being pulled closer and closer to the edge of the precipice. He’s finally approaching the last bend; he glances in his rear-view, but what he sees causes him to lose his concentration. Just for a moment, but a moment too long. The car leaves the road on the bend and the darkness swallows the teenager up like a whale consuming a minnow.

The tailing car doesn’t stop; it drives on, no looking back.

 

https://www.amazon.com/No-Kissing-Required-Salvation-Book-ebook/dp/B08GD315P1

Wednesday, 5 April 2023

Wandering

     

 

Amarilla Bay, Tenerife

     This week many walkers celebrated 'National Walking Day.' I love walking each morning, however, this week I haven't been able to do so. No I've not been a lazy girl, unfortunately after bending down to pick-up a  biscuit wrapper, which I dropped, I popped my back. Yes, it proves that eating biscuits, is bad for your health.

 

Helix Park, Falkirk

 

    I've went from a brisk walk of 35miles/56km a week, to 10miles/16km, at crawl pace. I'm on the mend now and I hope I can get up to speed next week, because, as philosopher and poet, Friedrich Nietzche wrote, 'All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.'  

 

Tajao, Tenerife

     

    Yes, it is a great time to think and additionally I need all the help  I can get to keep the pounds I pile on very easily, at bay. So, until I start walking well there will be no Easter treats for me. 

    I've included a few pictures of my favourite walks over the years, here in the Canary Islands and in Scotland. Hoping you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed being there.

 

Culross, Firth of Forth


Friday, 31 March 2023

Primavera

     

 


     Spring has definitely arrived here in  the Canary Islands, the thermometer has soared by ten degrees plus in the last week. That means this girl here has swapped her jeans for shorts and for those who want to look away now, I'm exposing my pale white, winter legs. Not a good look.

    We  have an all year round warm climate here on this group of paradisiacal islands, which I have written about before. However, when my neighbor starts replanting her window boxes and patio planters with flowering pants, accompanied by her words, "La primavera esta aqui," spring has certainly sprung.

    It's time for the living things in this world to  yawn loudly as they awaken from the winter. This poem by the great American poet, Emily Dickinson, correctly says, 'A light exists in spring.'

 A Light Exists in Spring



A light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period
When March is scarcely here

 A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels

 It waits upon the Lawn
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you

 Then as Horizons step
Or noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay

 A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament


 

By Emily Dickinson (December 10, 1830 - May 15, 1886)