June 2025 Quarterly Newsletter

Dear friends,
 
A writing friend and I just returned from a writing research trip to England and Ireland.

We started with a few days in London to celebrate our joint birthdays. We were both in denial about the significant numbers we were celebrating. It didn’t seem real, but time flies, and one minute it’s a thirtieth birthday, and next… well, I don’t want to frighten everyone, so I’ll keep that secret. I can’t, however, complain. I’ve lived an interesting life, have wonderful friends and family surrounding me, have met some fabulous people along the way and have the best job in the world, writing—back to our birthdays. A group of Aussie writing friends, part of our critique group, treated us to High Tea at the London Ritz. It was a wonderful experience and one we’ll treasure. If you haven’t done it and ever get the chance, go. You won’t be disappointed. Those first few days allowed us to unwind from our flight before we headed to Ireland.

After spending time in the Faroe Islands in October 2024, I was eager to learn about Irish folklore. I’ve started a paranormal story set in the Faroes and am keen to do something similar in Ireland. I fell in love with the country and its people. We stayed in Dublin and went on a few tours, giving us a feel for the countryside. There is so much to learn from our tour guides, who weren’t lacking in filling us in on Ireland’s colourful history. The first tour we spent walking the streets of Dublin. We visited Trinity College and entered the old library. A massive restoration is underway, and over 200,000 early printed books have started being removed, cleaned, tagged, and linked to a catalogue record before being safely relocated to a climate-controlled storage facility. They will eventually return to a fully restored fireproofed library, which will take a few years to complete. There is something incredibly special about walking into an old library. If only the walls could speak. We visited Blarney Castle and kissed the stone, and another day we visited the Cliffs of Moher. Jonathon, our guide, regaled us with folklore stories and sang some Irish songs. He was one of those people who had many strings to his bow, and he could knock out a great tune. He ended with a rendition of Molly Malone and got the tour group singing along with the chorus.

After leaving Ireland, we headed to Hever Castle in England, where we stayed for a few days. Hever Castle had many famous houseguests, one of whom was Anne Boleyn (1530s). Henry VIII pursued and proposed, and she accepted at Hever. Four hundred years later, Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon also visited the castle. The place was pivotal in her decision to marry the future King George VI, known as Bertie to his family. For anyone writing about those times, nothing is better than walking the halls where so much was at stake.

From Hever we went to Arundel Castle—a restored and remodelled medieval castle established in the 11th century. The castle was damaged in the English Civil War and restored in the 18th and 19th centuries by Charles Howard, the 11th Duke of Norfolk. The tulips were still abundant, and the gardens alone make this a must-see destination. After Arundel, we headed southwest to Devon and Cornwall, stopping at Tintagel where King Arthur was supposedly born—his statue is a must-see. Then it was onto St Ives, the Cotswolds and Stratford-upon-Avon, where we learned about William Shakespeare. Strafford was a particular favourite of mine. The Tudor houses were breathtaking. Before returning to London, our final stop was Bletchley Park, where they broke code during World War 2. That place blew me away.

I talk about the places visited because there is a wealth of information to be learned from guides, tours, visiting countries you plan to set your story in, meeting people and walking through castles and homes that are hundreds of years old. It’s taking a journey back in time. It brings a different dimension and realism to the story. I often say there is nothing like travelling to broaden the horizons. If you can’t travel overseas, then look closer to home. We spent years camping in the Australian Outback, and we still have many destinations in Australia that we have on our bucket list. I love setting stories here and have some unpublished manuscripts set in Australia that I hope to publish someday.

Now, for something not so much fun about being overseas. I am generally an easy-going type of person. I don’t take life too seriously; if I do at times, I soon get over myself. But I had a situation when leaving the hotel at Heathrow Airport, which threw me into a spin. I’d said goodbye to my friend and boarded a bus to terminal five—there wasn’t a bus to terminal four, so the driver would drop me off at the adjacent Hilton Hotel. It was a short walk through and would take me about ten to fifteen minutes. The driver stopped, and I was conscious of getting off quickly so he could carry on. As I stepped off, he kindly directed me, and I started walking. Two or three minutes into that walk, I realised I didn’t have my shoulder bag. I’d stupidly left it on the bus. I’d always thought myself a calm person, boy, did I get that wrong. I raced back, but the bus had long gone. So, I entered the hotel, approached the check-in desk, and explained what had happened. They called the bus company immediately and sent a message to the driver. That was great, but I didn’t know if he did or didn’t have my bag. I burst into tears and started pacing the reception area. The staff fetched water and tried calming me, but to no avail. All I could think was that I was due to fly out shortly, and my passport, phone, and money were in my shoulder bag.

Half an hour later, I was still pacing when another staff member came to the desk and said she would call the bus company to try and ascertain if the driver had the bag. When she smiled at me and said he did and was on his way to us, I burst into another bout of tears. It was such a relief. As I slowly regained control of my emotions, I wondered what would have happened had I had a heart attack and collapsed. Nobody knew who I was, and I had no identification on me. I started spinning out a story about a woman rushed to the hospital and died on arrival. I wondered how often this kind of thing happened and made a mental note to think about it in more detail when my head was functioning—it would make great book material.

The bus arrived and drew me back to my immediate problem. I needed to get a move on. The driver confirmed what I’d thought that I was lucky. I wouldn’t have seen the bag again if the bus had been packed. After thanking everyone concerned, I took off toward terminal four with my bag firmly attached. This had all taken up to an hour—it felt like more. I made the check-in desk and flight, but I never want to go through that again. We never know what life will throw at us, and we may think we’ll react one way and then find out differently. Sometimes when I write my heroine or heroes into predicaments, it’s hard to describe what their bodies tell them about the situations they find themselves in. I learned a lot from that incident. I now know how the body reacts in a stressful situation; believe me, it’s not good.

Until next time, stay safe

Suzie