Setting out from Berlin 1796

Family meeting…

Rene: Berlin has limits, but London… it’s buzzing with ships, trade, and opportunity for an underwriter.
Father: Clearly, nothing we can say will dissuade you. And this… Lloyds, you say, will be your base?
Rene: A coffee shop. It’s where all the shipping news is daily shared. 
Mother: I still worry about highwaymen.
Rene: Berlin to Hamburg by carriage, then sail across the North Sea to London. The sea journey is long but safer.
Sarah: And what if soldiers stop you, getting suspicious of travelers amid all the unrest?
Rene: I have proper papers, explaining my journey as a merchant.
Father: And lodging? London isn’t kind to newcomers without a roof over their heads.
Rene: I’ve heard of cheap rooms near the docks where many sailors and traders stay. It’s humble but close to the action.
Genevieve: It’s brave of you to try. Better a life of risks and chances than one of waiting. I wish I were a man.
Father: Just mind your pockets on the road and your wits in the city.
Rene: I’ll keep my pockets tight and my wits sharper.
__________
Voice-over
The family wishes Rene well and sister Genevieve hopes that London can change his destiny and perhaps hedge the family fortune in these troubled Napoleonic times.

A talk with an underwriter in 1802

A booth at the coffee shop… 

Mr. Norton: Your porcelain shipment is a fragile commodity. The charge for insurance is contingent upon the declared worth thereof, and the character of the vessel employed.
Mr. Darcy: And what sort of vessel would you deem most fit for such goods in these times?
Mr. Norton: A sound merchantman, sir, possessed of a firm reputation. A packet ship, or an East Indiaman of robust build, would best secure your wares against the perils of the ocean.
Mr. Darcy: And what premium might be expected for coverage of said shipment?
Mr. Norton: Generally, one might reckon a rate of from three to five percent upon the cargo’s value. Given the unsettled nature of the seas, owing to the ongoing continental wars, the higher rate would naturally apply.
Mr. Darcy: Are circumstances presently perilous?
Mr. Norton: Quite so. The Napoleonic conflicts impart notable hazards—privateers, naval blockades. Such perils must be borne by mind and purse alike.
_________
Voice-over

Mr Norton, an underwriter with a good reputation, explains customary clauses relating to claims, delays and indemnification, and gives advice on selecting a well-appointed vessel under the command of a captain known for careful conduct. A further appointment is arranged for the signing of a contract.

Sarawak Laksa

Choon Hui Café 06:45 am…
Antonio: Sarawak Laksa. Medium size. Coffee and Poppia.
Mei: Poppia maker’s not in today, sorry lah.
Antonio: This was where he sat, right?
Mei: He sat there. Quietly. He finished the whole bowl.

Antonio: Breakfast of the gods. No photo of him up? The episode was filmed here.
Mei: Some things better left. He came as a guest.
Antonio: I understand. Pin the picture and trap the spirit.
Mei: Respect.
___________
Voice-over
There are many laksas. The Choon Hui Café laksa is special though. 

White Borneo Rabbit

WHITE RABBIT

WHITE RABBIT

WHITE RABBIT

Arriving in present day Sarawak was not quite the Borneo that Biggles flew into in a Beaufighter in WWII but still required moderate levels of planning such as digital entry card, changing flights at KL, initiating Grab for transport, securing DEET sprays for mozzies against malaria, dengue and encephelitis, and vocabulary for indigenous languages. Biggles only had headhunters to deal with.

Using Surnames as Forenames

Getting to know you…

Harry Winston: Been meaning to ask why do you go by Oliver when your first name’s William?
William Oliver: Well. In southern Georgia, it’s not uncommon. Folks often use their middle or last names. A way of feeling closer, more familiar.
Harry Winston: Interesting. In England, especially at boarding school, everyone was called by their surname. Even your closest friend was “Hawthorne” or “Bennett.” First names were practically reserved for your mum or your cat.
William Oliver: Your cat?
Harry Winston: You wouldn’t call a cat “Mr. Tibbles” every time you fed him. You’d say “Tibs” or “you little menace.” Names soften with affection.
William Oliver: That’s true. My grandma had a cat named “General Lee,” but she just called him “Gen.” Unless he knocked over the vase, then it was something else.
Harry Winston: Exactly. So when you say Oliver, it’s about intimacy?
William Oliver: Right. It’s like saying, “This is who I am to my people.” William’s on the paperwork, but Oliver’s who I am in conversation, in community.
Harry Winston: Fascinating. For us, surnames were a kind of equalizer. Everyone was “Winston” or “Thompson,” regardless of status. It was oddly democratic. Not everywhere.
William Oliver: Same in the South. Some folks go by nicknames, some by initials. I’ve got a cousin named James Earl who goes by “Bubba.” No one’s quite sure why.
Harry Winston: Ah, nicknames. The great equalizer. I had a friend named “Badger.” Never knew his real name until his wedding.
William Oliver: That’s the charm of it, isn’t it? Names aren’t just labels, they’re stories. They tell you where someone’s from, how they want to be seen.
__________
Voice-over
Names as equalizers, as a social identity to include acquaintances. And surname use is a kind of back-take on that.

Histamine Memory

Seeking help…

Jeff: I used AI to generate a list of questions a doctor might ask me.

Dr Sirinat: Hmm. Very helpful. You’ve had hives for three months?
Jeff: I moved to an old house, a dusty one and developed urticaria. 
Dr Sirinat: Possibly dust mites. Still itchy?Jeff: I’ve cleaned the dust, rooms are almost sterile with all the dust gone for two weeks. But I’m still itching.
Dr Sirinat: Maybe you’re suffering histamine memory.
Jeff: Like muscle memory?
Dr Sirinat: Yes. A metaphor. The immune system remains sensitized after the initial trigger.Cells can keep releasing histamine for weeks. Hives and itching continue even without bites or allergens.
Jeff: And for how long?
Dr Sirinat: Can be weeks. Even months.
___________
Voice-over
Jeff is prescribed low dose prednisone and antihistamine tablets. Also cream. Told to report back in two weeks.

David Gibbins: Marine Archaeologist

A writer who can do thrillers and history…
Antonio: He writes thrillers, is a diver and an academic. Trifecta.
Ricardo: He caught a few lucky breaks though. The early 2000s were ripe for Dan Brown-style thrillers with historical twists.
Antonio: He’s got credentials: PhD from Cambridge, fieldwork in underwater archaeology. 
Ricardo: I won’t argue with his chops. But success in publishing? Right place, right time? Plenty of brilliant academics never land a book deal, let alone eleven novels.
Antonio: Eleven novels featuring Jack Howard! Sustained creativity. And A History of the World in Twelve Shipwrecks?
Ricardo: I liked that one, actually. Especially the chapter on the Uluburun wreck. Makes the Bronze Age trade routes feel cinematic.
Antonio: He fell into a good niche. And he’s contributing to understanding of underwater heritage. Still diving. Not just theorizing from a desk but mapping wrecks, finding artefacts.
__________
Voice-over
Growing up as diver since his teens, Gibbins brings authentic experience to his fiction and his non-fiction. A History of the World in Twelve Shipwrecks is a good read.

Steampunk coffee shop

Sign on a Kitsch street…

Hugo: Hmm. And are the coffee beans here ground by a dirigible?
Sophronia: I’ve heard the barista’s name is Percival and is famous for his froth portraits.
Hugo: It’s early, but I could go for a second cup. My stamina gauge is flickering.
Sophronia: Same. There’s a whole morning ahead. I need fuel for philosophical rambling and shoe shopping.
Hugo: I can imagine the taste: smoky, with hints of mahogany and existential dread.
Sophronia: Come on. We have to try it. It’s practically calling to us in Morse code.
__________
Voice-over
There are steampunk coffeeshops. Design elements: gears, cogs, exposed pipes. Colors: gold, browns, reds. Metals: copper and brass. Mixing retro with futuristic. Makes you wonder what Victorian coffee shops really did look like.

Maybe an Orang Utan

Childhood dangers in India…
Jessica: We had to be careful not to get sick, Delhi belly or dysentery.
Rowan: Animals?
Jessica: Oh yes. Cobras. There was one on the corner where we caught the bus.
Rowan: Every day?
Jessica: Sometimes. It was a snake charmer’s. And one day there was a monkey up the tree in our garden.
Rowan: Wild?
Jessica: It had escaped from the zoo next door. I was going out the door and it was up the tree looking at me. I backed inside. The servants took care of it. 
Rowan: They caught it?
Jessica: They called the zoo people and they came.
Rowan: What kind of monkey?
Jessica: Maybe a specialized monkey. It was orange. Anyway, I missed the school bus so Mom wrote a note saying it was because of the monkey.
Rowan: A feasible reason. Sounds like an orang utan. An ape, not a monkey.

_________
Voice-over
Orang utans are apes, and tailless, unlike monkeys. Orange-brown, living in densely foliaged trees, so maybe not needing darkly pigmented skin like gorillas for UV protection.

White August Rabbit

 WHITE RABBIT
WHITE RABBIT
WHITE RABBIT

Summer looms.
Will it last until winter I wonder.
At that, I'd squawk if I could.

Auspicious meetings on summery journeys.

Wedding Guests

Not knowing anyone there…

Bill: Wow, look at this crowd. I don’t recognize anyone.  
Jill: Same here. Olive must have had a lot of friends to invite two hundred.
Bill: That tracks. The charisma of an influencer.  
Jill: Remember that massive share house she ran? Like, a hundred residents?  
Bill: Right! And Karl was one of them. So… maybe most of these guests are ex-housemates.
Jill: Place was more commune than house. She did say they were her family.
Bill: But many of them seem to have made it. Gone a bit further than growing veges and making their own clothes. Look at the turnout. I feel underdressed. Even in a bow tie.
__________
Voice-over
Perhaps the share house is the new urban iteration of the commune some of us knew back in the 60s.

Choking and Falling

Discussing recent medical checks…
Simon: Went for my annual check-up yesterday. New questionnaire. First question: “How many times a week do you experience choking while eating?”
George: Choking? Huh, cheerful opener. Mine started with, “Have you had a fall or a near fall in the last six months?” I told him, “Define near fall.”
Simon: The hallway’s become my unofficial handrail. I should install actual ones, but I’d miss the thrill.

George: Thrill? You mean the adrenaline rush of wondering if tonight’s the night your hip meets the floor?
Simon: That’s it. He also asked if I’ve noticed any memory loss. I said, “I don’t remember.”
George: Classic. Mine asked if I’ve had any unexplained weight loss. I said, “Only when I forget to eat lunch.”
__________
Voice-over
Doc used to ask about prostate screening. Not anymore. When you ask why, he says, “At your age, something else will likely carry you off before that kicks in.” Like being told the fire alarm’s broken but don’t worry, the building’s already on fire.

Riffing on Sign of the Cross mnemonic in Shanghai

After noodles in the Jing Jiang dining room…
Jim: Care for a beer?
Horace: I-píng píjiǔ! One of the few phrases I’ve picked up. Means “a bottle of beer,” right?
Jim: So I hear. Let’s go find a cold one before the night gets too philosophical. (Arriving at the elevator) Shall we take her up? (Jim pats himself in four places: forehead, chest, left pocket, right wrist.) Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch.
Horace: What? Some kind of ritual?
Jim: Never know when you fly in one of these Chinese elevators. Old habit. Used to say it before flying missions in the war. If you got shot down, those were the essentials. Eyes to see, balls to run, money to bribe, and a watch to know when to move.
Horace: I always thought it was a cheeky way of making the sign of the cross.
Jim: It is. Catholic schoolboys’ version. Helped us remember the order.
Horace: Did it ever work? The ritual, I mean.
Jim: Well, got shot down over Belgium once. I had all four. Made it back with a limp and a story. So yeah, I suppose it worked.
_________
Voice-over
Jim riffs on the traditional Catholic mnemonic “Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch,” which itself was a way for schoolboys to remember the order of the sign of the cross. That said, the sentiment behind the phrase, checking for essential items before a dangerous mission, resonates with the kind of pragmatic rituals that soldiers and airmen might adopt. Many veterans developed personal routines or superstitions before flying or going into combat, often blending practicality with a touch of gallows humor.

Tale of Two Buildings in Two Cities

Film talk…
Ben: Saw a film on the flight back about Miles Warren and Maurice Mahoney, whose Christchurch Town Hall was wrecked in the 2011 quake. The government wanted to demolish it, but citizens—and Mayor Lianne Dalziel—fought to repair and preserve their heritage building. Well worth a watch.
Vivienne: Yes, I saw it at the film festival last year. And it reminded me of another story about a rescued building. In Napier. After the war, citizens paid for a memorial hall designed by Guy Natusch. Commercial interests later commandeered it, stripped its plaques, and even renamed the place. But Mayor Kirsten Wise rallied the people, reclaimed ownership for the city, reinstalled the Roll of Honour, and named the ballroom after Natusch. Civic victory.
Ben: Two cities, two halls, two mayors—each a guardian of collective identity. Uncanny parallel.
Vivienne: Imagine an afterword on the Maurice and I film. Maybe a short one weaving both tales together. 
Ben: It’s a possibility. Archival footage, contemporary interviews, the wreckage followed by resurrection.

__________
Voice-over
This could work. Parallel narrative on common themes, characters and outcomes.

Prolific Parrots

Meeting around tennish…
Luke: Why'd you quit your first coach? You were all in a few months ago. 
Suzie: Ugh. Everything was “Push through it!” or “Champions never quit!” Like, calm down, I just want to play doubles and eat grapes afterward.
Luke: So what changed? You have a new coach now, right? 
Suzie: Yep. Complete opposite. Big, muscular triathlete. Part-time tennis coach, full-time doctor and empathetic legend.
Luke: What typifies an “empathetic triathlete”? 
Suzie: Okay. One day, he found a tiny parrot on the roadside. Just sitting there, all fluff and no clue.
Luke: A parrot? Like “Polly want a cracker” parrot? 
Suzie: Tiny. Blue and green. Big eyes. So he took it back to his room, which is like... practically a closet.
Luke: This muscular man... cradling a parrot in a shoebox? 
Suzie: Better. He fed it with a hospital syringe. One drop at a time!

Luke: And let me guess, they bonded? 
Suzie: Oh, way more than bonded. Turns out it was a she and laid eggs.
Luke: No way. 
Suzie: Way. They hatched. Then those parrots found love. Now he’s got twelve. Twelve birds.
Luke: In that same tiny room? 
Suzie: He bought six cages. Because parrots pair, you know. One per couple.
Luke: Is he single?
Suzie: Ha! Let’s just say he’s emotionally married to his parrot community for now.
Luke: I’d be terrified to drop by and get judged by twelve tiny eyes. 
Suzie: Oh, they absolutely judge. They blink in unison when skeptical.
__________
Voice-over
Coffee over, Luke sensing Suzie’s tennis is going well, to which she replies that she is lobbing better and laughing a lot more. Which, she declares, is a real win.