RYAN HEEGER

London to Brunei – (Mostly) Fantastic Journey

 

We were somewhere over Kabul when I finally snapped and dangled Hattie by her ankles above the plane's toilet, threatening to hit the flush. Her hair brushed against the faded yellow bowl while she thrashed around, protesting. I told her for the hundred and eightieth time that if she didn’t either sleep or behave she would be sucked out the bottom of this Boeing 777 and turned into blue ice, eventually thawing out among a herd of diseased goats, miles from civilisation. It was 4:15am.

 

No level of insurgency 30,000 miles below would be a match for our feral two-year-old daughter, who had created a scene so brutal on take-off at Heathrow that even the Singapore Airlines stewardesses eventually gave up on insisting she fasten her seatbelt. Instead, they strapped themselves in and piped in the theme from The Omen. As the plane hurtled down the runway, the wife and I held Hattie down and offered soothing words while she screamed bloody murder. It was only when the seatbelt signs went off a while later that we could release her, allowing us and all other 296 passengers to breathe again. Our poor son, Oscar (5), held his own quietly, his fingers to his mouth and occasionally saying, “Daddy, I don’t like it,” referring more to his sister’s behaviour than the flight.

 

But the worst of it was over. 

 

We always knew Hattie would be the one to raise hell, we just didn’t know how, when and to what degree. At least she got it out of the way early on. The remainder of the second leg of our journey to Brunei (London > Singapore) was pretty standard in terms of flying with two children for 13 hours. They (eventually) slept, laughed, cried, ate, drank, played, wandered, bickered, got very bored, and watched a shitload of Peppa Pig, Larva and inflight movies. She tolerated the seatbelt slightly better on landing, which was mostly due to her levels of jadedness.  

 

The previous day’s departure from Cardiff had been difficult, emotionally and physically. We’d already said our goodbyes to most of our family and friends, but seeing my parents for the final time did me in. Hannah’s mum had been a gibbering wreck when we last saw her the day before, but we’re confident she’ll be coming out for an extended stay. I hope my folks do the same.

 

We arrived at the Best Western Plus Heathrow in good time, and were treated very well by the manager, who reimbursed our temporary lack of working TV and plug sockets with a complimentary bottle of wine and soft drinks. The less can be said of those charlatan bastards at Hertz car rental, who charged us £45 for using a quarter tank of diesel. Avoid them.

 

Sunday morning and our large cab (driven by this Afghan legend) got us to Terminal 2 on time. Departures was rammed to capacity, resembling a pre-apocalyptic exodus. Travellers jostled shoulder-to-shoulder while shirty cockney airport staff barked at us to “move along” or “get those kids under control, sir”. Once our bags were checked in and we were through security we grabbed some sarnies and boarded our flight.

 

Thirteen hours later we got off in Singapore expecting to be hanging around for a few hours. Instead we realised we had 30 minutes to get the sky train to the other side of the airport for our connecting flight. A wonderful lady working at the help desk escorted us personally to the correct terminal, then put us on the back of an airport buggy and told the driver not to spare the horses. We were driven through the duty free area, the kids clinging wide-eyed onto the side rails and each other, while the missus and I pointed out any old shite of interest, like an indoor waterfall.

 

We made it onboard with minutes to spare, and a repeat of seatbeltgate ensued, but by now we were too tired to care. We landed ninety minutes later and emerged into the tropical Bruneian atmosphere. Our cases all came through, but the pushchair had gone AWOL. After filling in some lost property forms we came out and were greeted by our ‘buddy’ from the International School Brunei, the lovely Emma who is deputy head of primary, and Jacqueline, one of the equally lovely HR staff.

 

We were whisked to our house, which is a large, single-floor plan villa with gated grounds. It has four bedrooms, two shower rooms, huge living and dining areas, white tiled floors, brand new air-con, ceiling fans, and mango and lychee trees in the garden. We signed our lives away on the car and house occupancy, and then were left alone to take in our surroundings, do some unpacking and, eventually, sleep.    

 

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 Tuesday 3 February 2015

 

Bit of fun: soundtrack to the novel, if there is such a thing (there is, look - I've done one).

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Wednesday 17 December 2014

 

Fark me, time is marching on. The second residential the weekend before last was a great success. I had some amazing feedback and constructive input that I need to get cracking on. I literally haven't had a moment to piss in peace since, but I have locked in a few full days to crack on over the Xmas break. My main aim is to dilute the blokey carnage with female inout and romantic interest. I'm going to pull Lisa back through the book so she is introduced much earlier. Josef is also going to take surfing lessons with  Manly surf school so he can attempt to meet women.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I've known for some time that this has needed to happen, and I gave Rob the chapters in something of a dump so I could revist them in their rawest form. I was also asked at the residential what Josef's goal is, the overall arc is of his story, his quest etc. The truth is I don't know and haven't given it much thought. I'm not sure he has one, or that I care to give him one.

 

I discussed layout / format with Rob (see entry below) and he put my mind at ease with regards to trying to do anything fancy or postmodern. This is something I can think more about further down the line, as I do like the idea of losing speechmarks in favour of em dashes. 

 

My priority now is making the changes suggested by Rob and having some fun writing the surfing scenes. I've set myself a deadline of the end of the Xmas break. Then it'll be time to think about looking at the remaining chapters, wheich I've barely glanced since I wrote them.

 

Rob suggested approaching some of the national publishers when its ready. He also suggested Parthian who at least one other on my Masters is being published through, as is Craig Hawes over in Dubai.

 

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Friday 24 October 2014

 

Two weeks since creating it and I finally get around to utilising this website for its intended use. Last weekend I managed to get stuck into a good six hours of editing the first 23,000 words or so of the novel. It was the first time I had a proper read of my fellow students' feedback (on the first 3000 words) at the first residential, and it was incredibly useful. It is also refreshing to have people reading the project again after so many years.

 

What's clear is how much I've developed as a writer and person in that time. I deliberately submitted the raw content (i.e. not looked at by me for a number of years) so I could put the welly in myself. Most of the feedback centred around the need for more Cardiff slang, which I have now started to amend. 

 

When Rob asked me submit another 20,000 words - and then straight away another 10,000 - I spent a few evenings reading some of the more recent chunks of the novel I'd written, much of which I'd almost forgotten about. I really liked what I read. I feel that it's all a little too episodic, and that romantic element Lisa takes too long to appear, but that's something I can discuss with Rob at my next tutorial.

 

I'm having a slight crisis of confidence with regards to the layout. During my degree I was a stickler for obeying the times new roman, 12 point etc rules. However I'm wondering if the traditional lit layout isn't right for this type of novel. Irvine Welsh's more basic layout does away with speech marks and such, which I feel brings the reader closer. This is something else I will discuss with Rob. 

 

I'm inspired by the good news that Holly Muller and Soraya Marr are being published - both were in my year for the BA.