With much sadness, I have to tell you that Lek’s mother passed away yesterday and there will be no proper blog this week.
The above photos were only taken a few weeks ago.
Grandma Noosin was only in her early fifties so it has been a terrible shock for the whole family.
Lek and the children drove to Nong Khai for the funeral, and I’m taking care of my daughter who arrived from England for a 2 1/2 week stay last Thursday.
So I’m not sure how much time I will have for writing over the next week or so.
I did more or less complete chapter four (Part two) of my book before my daughter arrived and I have tried to knock into a half way decent state so that I can publish it today.
It’s a bit of a long’n – so I hope you enjoy it.
Now for the new chapter….
Below is the completed draft of Part Two – Chapter Four of my new novel.
Part Two – Port Harcourt
The flights to and from Lagos were so full that I had difficulty making a booking. In the end, I used a little dash at the ticket office and succeeded in getting us a flight out on the Sunday afternoon, returning the following Friday. During the days before we departed I had failed to convince Azzy that Port Harcourt was not a good place for her to live, and she stubbornly insisted on leaving most of her clothes behind in the hotel lock-up.
“We move my tings into new house later,” she said.
Still fresh in everyone’s mind was The Nigerian Airways disaster a few months earlier, in which all eighty-seven people on board had been killed. The crash had put the willies up many of us who had to use the same national carrier to travel to and from Lagos. The ill-fated VC10 had had been on its final descent into Lagos airport from London when it hit the ground some eight miles short of the runway. The authorities were still trying to establish whether the plane had been sabotaged by the rebels, but it was becoming pretty clear that pilot error was to blame.
I wasn’t yet a hardened veteran who could take flying on ancient, badly maintained aircraft, piloted by gung-ho locals in my stride, so I was quite worried about our flight to Lagos.
The short-haul Fokker Friendship turbo props that flew the Lagos/ Port Harcourt route twice daily were real workhorses – and they looked it. They were always full, with over thirty passengers, and the cargo holds were usually packed to the gunnels. Rumours abounded that the aircraft weren’t getting proper maintenance and that the pilots weren’t qualified to fly them.
I certainly wasn’t going to make the journey by road, so when we..