Category: #amwriting

In a word: Rain

Well, isn’t it just like you to rain on my parade?

Yes, and don’t we need a lot of rain because of the bushfires that are burning out of control?

Rain is that stuff that falls from the sky, sometimes at the awkwardest of times, like when you leave your umbrella in the car.

And rain can be a problem in sub-zero temperatures and high winds when it almost takes on the form of multiple miniature knives.  Rain and snow together, sleep, but that’s something else.

Of course, it could always rain cats and dogs, a rather interesting occurrence if it ever happened.

This should not be confused with the word rein.

As any horseperson would know this is what helps control a horse

But, it doesn’t have to be a horse, it might be that you are told to rein in your attack dog

Or rein in your excesses

Or alternatively, give a person free rein to go about their business.

Then there is reign, that period of time when a monarch rules, and it seems in England women hold the record for the longest reign, Queen Victoria, and Queen Elizabeth II

That’s distinct from the office oligarchs who seem to think they reign over the plebs

An excerpt from “What Sets Us Apart”, a mystery with a twist

See the excerpt from the story below, just a taste of what’s in store…

http://amzn.to/2Eryfth

whatsetscover

McCallister was old school, a man who would most likely fit in perfectly campaigning on the battlefields of Europe during the Second World War. He’d been like a fish out of water in the army, post-Falklands, and while he retired a hero, he still felt he’d more to give.

He’d applied and was accepted as head of a SWAT team, and, watching him now as he and his men disembarked from the truck in almost military precision, a look passed between Annette, the police liaison officer, and I that said she’d seen it all before. I know I had.

There was a one in four chance his team would be selected for this operation, and she had been hoping it would be one of the other three. While waiting for them to arrive she filled me in on the various teams. His was the least co-operative, and the more likely to make ad-hoc decisions rather than adhere to the plan, or any orders that may come from the officer in charge.

This, she said quite bluntly, was going to end badly.

I still had no idea why Prendergast instructed me to attend the scene of what looked to be a normal domestic operation, but as the nominated expert in the field in these types of situations, it was fairly clear he wasn’t taking any chances. It was always a matter of opinion between us, and generally I lost.

In this case, it was an anonymous report identifying what the authorities believed were explosives in one of the dockside sheds where explosives were not supposed to be.

The only reason why the report was given any credence was the man, while not identifying himself by name, said he’d been an explosive expert once and recognized the boxes. That could mean anything, but the Chief Constable was a cautious man.

With his men settled and preparing their weapons, McCallister came over to the command post, not much more than the SUV my liaison and I arrived in, with weapons, bulletproof vests, and rolls of tape to cordon off the area afterward. We both had coffee, steaming in the cold early morning air. Dawn was slowly approaching and although rain had been forecast it had yet to arrive.

A man by the name of Benson was in charge. He too had groaned when he saw McCallister.

“A fine morning for it.” McCallister was the only enthusiastic one here.

He didn’t say what ‘it’ was, but I thought it might eventually be mayhem.

“Let’s hope the rain stays away. It’s going to be difficult enough without it,” Benson said, rubbing his hands together. We had been waiting for the SWAT team to arrive, and another team to take up their position under the wharf, and who was in the final stages of securing their position.

While we were waiting we drew up the plan. I’d go in first to check on what we were dealing with, and what type of explosives. The SWAT team, in the meantime, were to ensure all the exits to the shed were covered. When I gave the signal, they were to enter and secure the building. We were not expecting anyone inside or out, and no movement had been detected in the last hour since our arrival and deployment.

“What’s the current situation?”

“I’ve got eyes on the building, and a team coming in from the waterside, underneath. Its slow progress, but they’re nearly there. Once they’re in place, we’re sending McKenzie in.”

He looked in my direction.

“With due respect sir, shouldn’t it be one of us?” McCallister glared at me with the contempt that only a decorated military officer could.

“No. I have orders from above, much higher than I care to argue with, so, McCallister, no gung-ho heroics for the moment. Just be ready to move on my command, and make sure you have three teams at the exit points, ready to secure the building.”

McCallister opened his mouth, no doubt to question those orders, but instead closed it again. “Yes sir,” he muttered and turned away heading back to his men.

“You’re not going to have much time before he storms the battlements,” Benson quietly said to me, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “I’m dreading the paperwork.”

It was exactly what my liaison officer said when she saw McCallister arriving.

The water team sent their ‘in position’ signal, and we were ready to go.

In the hour or so we’d been on site nothing had stirred, no arrivals, no departures, and no sign anyone was inside, but that didn’t mean we were alone. Nor did it mean I was going to walk in and see immediately what was going on. If it was a cache of explosives then it was possible the building was booby-trapped in any number of ways, there could be sentries or guards, and they had eyes on us, or it might be a false alarm.

I was hoping for the latter.

I put on the bulletproof vest, thinking it was a poor substitute for full battle armor against an exploding bomb, but we were still treating this as a ‘suspected’ case. I noticed my liaison officer was pulling on her bulletproof vest too.

“You don’t have to go. This is my party, not yours,” I said.

“The Chief Constable told me to stick to you like glue, sir.”

I looked at Benson. “Talk some sense into her please, this is not a kindergarten outing.”

He shrugged. Seeing McCallister had taken all the fight out of him. “Orders are orders. If that’s what the Chief Constable requested …”

Madness. I glared at her, and she gave me a wan smile. “Stay behind me then, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Believe me, I won’t be.” She pulled out and checked her weapon, chambering the first round. It made a reassuring sound.

Suited up, weapons readied, a last sip of the coffee in a stomach that was already churning from nerves and tension, I looked at the target, one hundred yards distant and thought it was going to be the longest hundred yards I’d ever traversed. At least for this week.

A swirling mist rolled in and caused a slight change in plans.

Because the front of the buildings was constantly illuminated by large overhead arc lamps, my intention had been to approach the building from the rear where there was less light and more cover. Despite the lack of movement, if there were explosives in that building, there’d be ‘enemy’ surveillance somewhere, and, after making that assumption, I believed it was going to be easier and less noticeable to use the darkness as a cover.

It was a result of the consultation, and studying the plans of the warehouse, plans that showed three entrances, the main front hangar type doors, a side entrance for truck entry and exit and a small door in the rear, at the end of an internal passage leading to several offices. I also assumed it was the exit used when smokers needed a break. Our entry would be by the rear door or failing that, the side entrance where a door was built into the larger sliding doors. In both cases, the locks would not present a problem.

The change in the weather made the approach shorter, and given the density of the mist now turning into a fog, we were able to approach by the front, hugging the walls, and moving quickly while there was cover. I could feel the dampness of the mist and shivered more than once.

It was nerves more than the cold.

I could also feel rather than see the presence of Annette behind me, and once felt her breath on my neck when we stopped for a quick reconnaissance.

It was the same for McCallister’s men. I could feel them following us, quickly and quietly, and expected, if I turned around, to see him breathing down my neck too.

It added to the tension.

My plan was still to enter by the back door.

We slipped up the alley between the two sheds to the rear corner and stopped. I heard a noise coming from the rear of the building, and the light tap on the shoulder told me Annette had heard it too. I put my hand up to signal her to wait, and as a swirl of mist rolled in, I slipped around the corner heading towards where I’d last seen the glow of a cigarette.

The mist cleared, and we saw each other at the same time. He was a bearded man in battle fatigues, not the average dockside security guard.

He was quick, but my slight element of surprise was his undoing, and he was down and unconscious in less than a few seconds with barely a sound beyond the body hitting the ground. Zip ties secured his hands and legs, and tape his mouth. Annette joined me a minute after securing him.

A glance at the body then me, “I can see why they, whoever they are, sent you.”

She’d asked who I worked for, and I didn’t answer. It was best she didn’t know.

“Stay behind me,” I said, more urgency in my tone. If there was one, there’d be another.

Luck was with us so far. A man outside smoking meant no booby traps on the back door, and quite possibly there’d be none inside. But it indicated there were more men inside, and if so, it appeared they were very well trained. If that were the case, they would be formidable opponents.

The fear factor increased exponentially.

I slowly opened the door and looked in. A pale light shone from within the warehouse itself, one that was not bright enough to be detected from outside. None of the offices had lights on, so it was possible they were vacant. I realized then they had blacked out the windows. Why hadn’t someone checked this?

Once inside, the door closed behind us, progress was slow and careful. She remained directly behind me, gun ready to shoot anything that moved. I had a momentary thought for McCallister and his men, securing the perimeter.

At the end of the corridor, the extent of the warehouse stretched before us. The pale lighting made it seem like a vast empty cavern, except for a long trestle table along one side, and, behind it, stacks of wooden crates, some opened. It looked like a production line.

To get to the table from where we were was a ten-yard walk in the open. There was no cover. If we stuck to the walls, there was equally no cover and a longer walk.

We needed a distraction.

As if on cue, the two main entrances disintegrated into flying shrapnel accompanied by a deafening explosion that momentarily disoriented both Annette and I. Through the smoke and dust kicked up I saw three men appear from behind the wooden crates, each with what looked like machine guns, spraying bullets in the direction of the incoming SWAT members.

They never had a chance, cut down before they made ten steps into the building.

By the time I’d recovered, my head heavy, eyes watering and ears still ringing, I took several steps towards them, managing to take down two of the gunmen but not the third.

I heard a voice, Annette’s I think, yell out, “Oh, God, he’s got a trigger,” just before another explosion, though all I remember in that split second was a bright flash, the intense heat, something very heavy smashing into my chest knocking the wind out of me, and then the sensation of flying, just before I hit the wall.

I spent four weeks in an induced coma, three months being stitched back together and another six learning to do all those basic actions everyone took for granted. It was twelve months almost to the day when I was released from the hospital, physically, except for a few alterations required after being hit by shrapnel, looking the same as I always had.

But mentally? The document I’d signed on release said it all, ‘not fit for active duty; discharged’.

It was in the name of David Cheney. For all intents and purposes, Alistair McKenzie was killed in that warehouse, and for the first time ever, an agent left the Department, the first to retire alive.

I was not sure I liked the idea of making history.

© Charles Heath 2016-2020

Third son of a Duke – The research behind the story – 20

All stories require some form of research, quite often to place a character in a place at a particular time, especially if it is in a historical context. This series will take you through what it was like in 1914 through 1916.

…

Were there any government restrictions in place against people travelling from Australia to England in April 1915

Yes, significant government restrictions were in place on travel from Australia to England in April 1915, driven by the war effort’s needs and security concerns. While formal immigration between British colonies and the UK did not require passports in the modern sense at that time, wartime regulations imposed severe limitations and risks on civilian travel. 

Key government restrictions and wartime conditions included:

War Precautions Act 1914

In August 1914, the Australian government passed the War Precautions Act, which gave it broad powers for the duration of the war. By 1915, this act was used to impose regulations that profoundly affected public life, including travel. A second, expanded act was even introduced in April 1915. It allowed the government to: 

  • Contribute to censorship and surveillance. The act granted the government the power to control newspapers and censor information that could be detrimental to the war effort.
  • Restrict “aliens.” Regulations required people with connections to enemy nations to register as “aliens”. While this was primarily aimed at German and Austro-Hungarian nationals, it subjected anyone not of British descent to greater scrutiny. 

Shipping scarcity and military requisition

By April 1915, most passenger liners had been requisitioned for military use to transport troops, munitions, and supplies. 

  • Troop transport: By this time, tens of thousands of Australian soldiers had already been transported to training camps in Egypt. Many of these troop transports departed in convoys from ports like Brisbane and Melbourne.
  • Cargo needs: The vast logistical demands of the war meant that civilian shipping was drastically reduced. The few remaining voyages were fraught with danger from German U-boats, particularly after the outbreak of unrestricted submarine warfare later in the war. 

Increased security and surveillance

All travellers, even British subjects, were subject to greater security measures and scrutiny.

  • Alien registration: The UK’s own Aliens Restriction Act 1914 and subsequent orders initiated a system of systematic registration and surveillance of non-British subjects. In Australia, people with connections to enemy nations were required to register as “aliens,” and many were interned in camps.
  • Port authority powers: Both Australian and British authorities had powers to restrict or prohibit the movement of people in and out of specified areas. 

Informal and indirect restrictions

Beyond specific regulations, other factors severely curtailed travel.

  • Travel cost and availability: The scarcity of passenger shipping drove up costs and made bookings extremely difficult.
  • Reduced incentive: With the war dominating daily life, most people without urgent, war-related reasons had little desire to take such a risky and difficult journey. 

In summary, while a British subject might not have faced the outright ban that an “enemy alien” did, wartime government regulations and military control of shipping made a casual trip from Australia to England in April 1915 a nearly impossible and highly risky undertaking.

“How could that possibly happen…” – A short story

I had hoped by the time I was promoted to assistant manager it might mean something other than long hours and an increase in pay.

It didn’t.

But unlike others who had taken the job, and eventually become jaded and left, I stayed. Something I realized that others seemed to either ignore or just didn’t understand, this was a company that rewarded loyalty.

It was why there were quite a few who had served 30 years or more. They might not reach the top job, but they are certainly well looked after.

I had a long way to go, having been there only 8 years, and according to some, on a fast track. I was not sure how I would describe this so-called ‘fast track’ other than being in the right place at the right time and making a judicial selection.

When it was my turn to be promoted, I had a choice of a plum department, or one most of my contemporaries had passed over. At the time, the words of my previous manager sprang to mind, that being a manager for the most sought-after department or the least sought-after, came with exactly the same privileges.

And, he was right. I took the least sought-after, much to their disdain and disapproval. One year on, that disapproval had turned almost to envy; that was when the Assistant Managers were granted a new privilege, tea, and lunch in the executive dining room.

“So, what’s it like?” John asked when our group met on a Friday night, this was the first after the privilege was granted.

He had been one of the three, including me, who had the opportunity to take the role. Both he and Alistair had both declined, prepared to wait for a more prestigious department. It hadn’t happened to them yet.

“The same as the staff dining room, only smaller. Except, I guess, the waitstaff and butler. They come and serve you when you have to go to them in the staff room. They’re the same staff, by the way, except for the butler.”

I could see the awe, or was it envy, in their eyes. “but it’s not that great. The Assistant Managers all sit at one end of the table, and we’re not part of the main group, so no sharing of information I’m afraid. And the meals are the same, just served on fancier crockery.”

“Then nothing to write home about?” Will was one of those who they also thought to be on a ‘fast track’. I was still trying to see how my ‘fast track’ was actually that fast.

“Put it this way, the extra pay doesn’t offset the long hours because you get overtime, I don’t, so on a good week, you’d all be earning more than me. Without responsibility, if anything goes wrong. I think that’s why Assistant Managers were created, to take the blame when anything goes wrong.”

That had been the hardest pill to swallow. Until I got the role, I hadn’t realized what it really involved. Nor had the others, and it was not something we could whinge about. My first-day introductory speech from Tomkins, my Manager, was all about taking responsibility, and how I was there to make his life easier. It was a speech he made a few times because he’d been Manager for the last 16 years, much the same as the others, and promotion if ever, would come when they died.

And Manager’s rarely died, because of their Assistant Managers.

“How old is Tomkins now?” Bert, a relative newcomer to our group, asked. He was still in the ‘in awe’ phase.

“About the same as Father Time,” I said. “But the reality is, no one knows, except perhaps for the personnel manager.” O looked over at Wally, the Personnel Department’s Assistant Manager. “Any chance of you telling us?”

“No. You know I can’t.”

“But you know?” I asked.

“Of course, but you know the rules. That’s confidential information. Not like what you are the custodian of, information everyone needs.”

Which, of course, was true. Communication and Secretarial Services had no secrets, except for twice a year when the company Bord of Directors met, and we were responsible for all the documents used at their meetings. Then, and only then, was I privy to all the secrets, including promotions. And be asked ‘What’s happening?’.

“Just be content to know that he’s as old as the hills, as most of them. It seems to me that one of the pre-requisites for managership is that you have been employed here for 30 years.”

Not all, though, I’d noticed, but there wasn’t one under the age of fifty.

And so it would go, the Friday night lament, those ‘in’ the executive, and those who were not quite there yet.
It seemed prophetic, in a sense, that we had been talking about Mangers and their ages. By a quirk of fate, some weeks before, that I learned of Tomkins’s currents state of health via a call on his office phone. At the time he was out, where, he had not told me, but by his the I believed it was something serious, so serious he didn’t want me, or anyone else, to know about it.

That phone call was from his wife, Eleanor, whom I’d met on a number of occasions when she came to take him home from work. I liked her, and couldn’t help but notice she was his exact opposite, Tomkins, silent and at times morose, and Eleanor, the life of the party. I could imagine her being a handful in her younger days, and it was a stark reminder of that old saying ‘opposites attract’.

She was concerned and asked me if he had returned from the specialist. I simply said he had but was elsewhere, and promised to get him to call her when he returned. Then I made a quick call around to see where he was and found that he was in Personnel. I left an innocuous message on his desk, and then let my imagination run wild.

At least for a day or so, the time it took for me to realize that it was probably nothing, the lethargy he’d been showing, gone.

I’d put it out of my mind until my cell phone rang, and it was from the Personnel Manager. On a Sunday, no less. In the few seconds before I answered it, I’d made the assumption that Tomkins’s secretive visits to the specialist meant he needed time off for a routine operation.

Greetings over, O’Reilly, the Personnel Manager, cut straight to the chase, “For your personal information, and not to be repeated, Tomkins will be out of action for about two months, and as that is longer than the standard period, you will become Acting Manager. We’ll talk more about this Tuesday morning.” Monday was a holiday.

All Assistant Managers knew the rules. Any absence of a manager for longer than a month, promotion to Acting Manager. Anything less, you sat in the office, but no change in title. There was one more rule, that in the event of the death of a manager, the assistant manager was immediately promoted to Manager. This had only happened once before. 70 years ago. If a manager retired, then the position of Manager was thrown open to anyone in the organization.

It was an intriguing moment in time.

Tuesday came, and as usual, I went into the office, with only one thought in mind, let the staff in the department know what was happening, of course, the moment I was given the approval to do so by Personnel.

Not a minute after I sat down, the phone rang. I picked it up, gave my name and greeting. It was met with a rather excitable voice of the Assistant Manager, Personnel, “I just got word from on high, you’ve been promoted to manager. How could that possibly happen…”

Then a moment later, as realization set in, “Unless…”

—-

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

The 2am Rant: Have you ever been sidetracked

Started to write a post, get so far, and another theme or idea slips in, and demands to be written first?

I’m on this nostalgia kick, simply because when I turned on the TV to catch up with the latest news, it was on a channel that shows old movies.

In case you don’t realize it, I love old movies, not just those from Hollywood, but also from Britain.

What was on?

An American in Paris.

Well, it had to be one of my favourites, even though I’m not a great fan of Gene Kelly, the sheer majesty of the music more than makes up for the story in between.

Could it be said, then, this was from the golden years of Hollywood? Such bright and cheerful movies such as Singing in the Rain, and An American in Paris, perhaps exemplify the Hollywood musical.

Years before, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were the quintessential musical stars, followed by the likes of Judy Garland and Deanna Durbin, and later Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. A couple of musicals, in particular, comes to mind, firstly the Wizard of Oz and then High Society.

Moving forward to more modern times, several stand out in the 1960s, My Fair Lady and Sound of Music. By this time theatregoers were dining on the superb talents of Rogers and Hammerstein, and Learner and Lowe. Of the former, musicals such as Carousel, South Pacific, and The King and I were on my list of favourites.

Even later still in the 1970s, there is Funny Girl, and Hello Dolly, which have a connection to the past with its director, none other than, yes, Gene Kelly.

But it seems once the 60s had passed the notion of the Hollywood blockbuster musical had gone, and we were left with clip shows like That’s Entertainment, put together while Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire were still alive. We still had the film versions of the stage plays, but the lustre had, somehow, gone.

Perhaps it will return, who knows, after all, everything old is usually new again, it just takes time to go full circle.

Writing a book in 365 days – 337

Day 337

Authors to study from the past

…

Mastering the Craft: Must-Read Authors from the 1940s and Beyond to Elevate Your Writing

When it comes to mastering the art of writing—whether it’s crafting intricate plots, developing multidimensional characters, or diving into profound themes—there are countless literary giants whose works serve as masterclasses in storytelling. Starting from the 1940s and moving backwards in time, these authors offer timeless lessons in style, structure, and substance. Here’s a curated list of authors and their works that can transform your approach to writing.

1. William Golding (1954) – Lord of the Flies

Lesson: Human Nature and Allegory
Golding’s Lord of the Flies is a masterclass in allegorical storytelling and psychological depth. By placing a group of boys on a deserted island, he peels back the veneer of civilisation to reveal primal instincts. For writers, Golding teaches how to use a microcosmic setting to explore universal themes like power, fear, and morality. His sparse yet brutal prose shows how simplicity can amplify tension and symbolism.

2. Evelyn Waugh (1945) – Brideshead Revisited

Lesson: Structure and Societal Critique
Waugh’s semi-autobiographical novel combines lush prose with a fragmented, reflective narrative. Brideshead Revisited is a lesson in balancing character development with thematic depth. Writers can learn how to weave personal introspection with societal critique (e.g., the decline of British aristocracy) and how to structure a narrative around memory and emotional resonance.

3. Graham Greene (1940s–1950s) – The Power and the Glory (1940), The Quiet American (1955)

Lesson: Moral Ambiguity and Pacing
Greene’s novels, set against politically turbulent backdrops, explore moral ambiguity with razor-sharp precision. In The Power and the Glory, he uses a flawed priest to ask, “What makes a man good?” Writers can study Greene’s lean, taut prose, his ability to build tension through understatement, and how to embed philosophical questions into action-driven plots.

4. John Steinbeck (1939–1952) – The Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden

Lesson: Social Justice and Emotional Resonance
Steinbeck’s unflinching portrayal of the human condition, from the Joad family’s plight in The Grapes of Wrath to the complex family dynamics in East of Eden, teaches the power of empathy in storytelling. His ability to balance epic scope with intimate moments is a guide to creating narratives that are both socially relevant and emotionally gripping.

5. F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925) – The Great Gatsby

Lesson: Symbolism and Narrative Voice
Though published in the 1920s, Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby remains a touchstone for writers. Nick Carraway’s reflective narration and Gatsby’s glittering, tragic world showcase how symbolism (e.g., the green light, the Valley of Ashes) can anchor themes of aspiration and decay. His lyrical prose reminds us that language itself can be a character in the story.

6. Ernest Hemingway (1940s–1950s) – Across the River and into the Trees (1950)

Lesson: The Iceberg Theory
Hemingway’s famous “theory of omission” (hide the deeper meaning beneath the surface) is best learned by studying his sparse, understated prose. His 1950s works, while less celebrated, demonstrate how much can be said with minimal words. A lesson in restraint: show, don’t tell.

7. George Orwell (1949) – 1984

Lesson: Dystopian Storytelling and Warning Narratives
Orwell’s 1984 endures as a chilling exploration of authoritarianism and language manipulation. For writers, it’s a blueprint for constructing cautionary tales: how to create a world that feels grounded in reality, yet pushes the boundaries of imagination to provoke thought.

8. Virginia Woolf (1920s–1930s) – To the Lighthouse, Mrs. Dalloway

Lesson: Stream of Consciousness and Subjective Time
Woolf’s modernist experiments with time and perspective teach writers how to capture the inner lives of characters. Her fluid narratives, like the fragmented days of Mrs. Dalloway, show how to blur the lines between external action and internal emotion.

9. Truman Capote (1960) – In Cold Blood

Lesson: Narrative Non-Fiction
Though published in the 1960s, Capote’s blend of journalism and novelistic technique in In Cold Blood redefined true crime. It’s a masterclass in pacing, interview-driven storytelling, and how to humanise even the most heinous characters.

10. Harper Lee (1960) – To Kill a Mockingbird

Lesson: Moral Courage in Character Development
Lee’s iconic novel, published in the early 1960s, is a case study in using a child’s perspective to critique systemic racism. Atticus Finch’s quiet moral authority and Scout’s growth illustrate how to embed ethical dilemmas into character arcs without sermonizing.

Conclusion: The Timeless Classroom of Literature

From Golding’s haunting allegories to Hemingway’s clipped prose, these authors offer a rich tapestry of techniques to inspire modern writers. Whether you’re drawn to the moral complexity of Greene, the symbolic depth of Fitzgerald, or the socio-political acuity of Orwell, reading backward from the 1940s is a journey into the heart of what makes storytelling enduring. So, dive in—your next story’s secret might be hidden in the pages of their masterpieces.

Final Tip: As you explore these works, don’t just read—annotate, imitate, and experiment. The best writing lessons come when you let these authors’ voices influence your own unique style. Happy writing!

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Belgrade

Uncovering the Hidden Gems of Belgrade: 5 Off-the-Beaten-Path Experiences

Belgrade, the vibrant capital of Serbia, is a city that seamlessly blends Eastern and Western cultures, offering a unique and exciting travel experience. While most tourists flock to the famous Kalemegdan Fortress and Saint Sava Temple, there’s more to Belgrade than meets the eye. As a seasoned traveller, I’m excited to share with you the top five other things to do in Belgrade that will take you off the beaten path and into the heart of this fascinating city.

1. Explore the Street Art Scene in Savamala

Tucked away in the Savamala neighbourhood, Belgrade’s street art scene is a treasure trove of creativity and self-expression. This former industrial area has been transformed into a vibrant arts district, featuring stunning murals, graffiti, and quirky installations. Take a self-guided walking tour to discover the works of local and international artists, and experience the city’s edgy, avant-garde side. Be sure to check out the famous “Savamala” mural, which has become a symbol of the neighbourhood’s revitalisation.

2. Visit the Nikola Tesla Museum

While many visitors to Belgrade are familiar with the famous scientist’s name, few know about the fascinating museum dedicated to his life and work. The Nikola Tesla Museum is a must-visit for anyone interested in science, technology, and innovation. Located in a beautiful villa, the museum showcases an impressive collection of Tesla’s personal belongings, experiments, and inventions, including his famous Tesla coil. The museum’s interactive exhibits and guided tours offer a unique glimpse into the mind of a genius.

3. Take a Stroll through the Botanical Garden

Escape the hustle and bustle of the city and find serenity in the beautiful Botanical Garden, also known as the Jevremovac Botanical Garden. This peaceful oasis is home to over 1,000 plant species, including some rare and endangered ones. As you wander through the gardens, you’ll discover a variety of flora, from roses and lavender to cacti and succulents. The garden’s tranquil atmosphere and stunning natural beauty make it an ideal spot for relaxation and contemplation.

4. Discover the Vinča Culture at the Vinča Archaeological Site

Located just outside Belgrade, the Vinča Archaeological Site is a fascinating glimpse into the city’s ancient past. This Neolithic settlement, dating back over 7,000 years, is one of the oldest and most important archaeological sites in Europe. Explore the excavated ruins, which feature remnants of ancient homes, pottery, and tools, and learn about the daily lives of the Vinča people. The site’s museum offers a wealth of information and artifacts, providing a unique insight into the region’s rich cultural heritage.

5. Enjoy a Night Out in the Cvetni Trg Neighbourhood

For a truly authentic Belgrade experience, head to the Cvetni Trg (Flower Square) neighbourhood, known for its lively atmosphere, charming cafes, and eclectic nightlife. This trendy area is home to a variety of bars, clubs, and live music venues, offering everything from jazz and rock to traditional Serbian folk music. As you explore the neighbourhood, you’ll discover a mix of old and new, with historic buildings, street performers, and modern art installations adding to the area’s vibrant energy. Be sure to try some of the local cuisine, including delicious ćevapi and pljeskavica, at one of the many restaurants and food stalls.

In conclusion, Belgrade is a city that offers so much more than its famous landmarks. By venturing off the beaten path, you’ll discover a wealth of hidden gems, from street art and science museums to ancient archaeological sites and vibrant nightlife. Whether you’re a culture vulture, a foodie, or an adventure-seeker, Belgrade has something for everyone. So come and explore the real Belgrade, and experience the city’s unique blend of tradition, innovation, and warmth.

What I learned about writing – You can write anywhere

It’s amazing how quickly you discover the imperfections of road makers.

As odd as that sounds, a recent trip on a bus, actually earlier today, in fact, got me thinking about just how bad some of our roads really are.

As any writer will tell you, that half an hour or so on the trip to work or home, is just waiting for a few lines to be written, on your phone, or on your tablet.  I venture to suggest a laptop computer just might be a little difficult, and prone to stray eyes from the people sitting or standing near you.

And the tightness of the space available to you.  I know, I’ve tried.

But, if you’re not in the mood to research, I did a little of that too, by the way, the desire to write is tempered by the movement of the bus and your ability to type coherent words on a small keyboard in a very large, rocking, metal thing.

I have to say I have a large streak of jealousy for those people who can hammer out large texts to their friends while riding the bus, and in the most awkward of conditions, using both thumbs, and carrying 26 bags of groceries and dry cleaning, as well as having a full on political discussion with the person sitting/standing next to them.

Even when the bus hits a pothole, does a sudden lurch that sents the unsuspecting sprawling.

With my interactive word completer turned on, it is astonishing what words finish up in my small attempt at writing as my fingers fail to find the right letters, and creates what only could be described as the ramblings of a madman.

Perhaps I might have better luck tomorrow.

 

 

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Helsinki

Discover Helsinki Beyond the Usual: 5 Hidden Gems to Explore

Helsinki, the vibrant capital of Finland, is renowned for its architectural splendour, vibrant art scene, and serene access to the archipelago. Yet, beyond the iconic Senate Square and the UNESCO-listed Suomenlinna, there’s a trove of offbeat experiences waiting to be uncovered. If you’re eager to venture off the well-trodden path, here are five lesser-known treasures to add to your Helsinki itinerary.

1. Stroll Through the Helsinki Botanical Garden (Kaisaniemi)

Tucked near the parliament building in Kaisaniemi, this haven of greenery offers a tranquil escape from the city’s hustle. Established in 1855, the garden spans 5.6 hectares and features a glasshouse housing over 12,000 plant species from around the world. In summer, the lush herb garden and seasonal flowerbeds are a riot of colour, while autumn brings fiery foliage. A peaceful walk here is the perfect way to appreciate Helsinki’s natural beauty without the crowds.

Pro Tip: Combine your visit with a constitutional at the adjacent Parliament Square (Kanssakuntori) for a slice of Helsinki’s political and ecological charm.

2. Unwind on Ulvila Cathedral Island

Just a short bus and ferry ride from central Helsinki lies Ulvila, a quiet island known for its historic cathedral and serene atmosphere. Once the favoured retreat of Finnish presidents, this hidden gem is accessible via a scenic 40-minute ferry ride. Explore the 17th-century Ulvila Church, stroll through its secluded cemetery, or simply soak in the views of the surrounding archipelago. With no restaurants or shops, it’s a spot to disconnect and reconnect with nature.

Pro Tip: Pack a picnic to enjoy on the island’s rocky shoreline, where the Baltic Sea shimmers under the midnight sun in summer.

3. Shop for Local Crafts at the Kadu Market

Nestled in Helsinki’s Design District (Kadu), the Kadu Market is a weekly pop-up paradise for design lovers. Held every Saturday in the summer and on weekends during winter, this market showcases handmade crafts, vintage finds, and locally sourced Nordic products. From organic skincare to handcrafted jewellery, it’s a vibrant window into Helsinki’s creative community.

Pro Tip: Stay afterwards to explore Kadu’s boutique shops and cafés, like the cozy Apartment 42 café, known for its Instagram-worthy sundaes.

4. Get Lost in the Kiasma Museum of Contemporary Art

Helsinki’s modern art scene is on full display at Kiasma, a striking building designed by American architect Steven Holl. The museum’s ever-changing exhibits blend international and Finnish art, often pushing boundaries with avant-garde installations. Its unique, glass-clad structure and spiral layout make it a visual treat, while the free guided tours (in multiple languages) offer deeper insights into the works.

Pro Tip: Visit during the museum’s opening hours (weekends often have extended hours) to fully absorb the atmosphere without the weekday rush.

5. Picnic in Rastila Park, Helsinki’s Oldest Public Park

Founded in 1838, Rastila Park is a green oasis nestled between the Baltic Sea and Helsinki’s city centre. This lesser-known park is ideal for solo walks, family outings, or a quiet picnic on its grassy lawns. The park’s modest charm lies in its simplicity—think ancient trees, children playing on the playground, and the distant hum of the city. It’s a rare spot where Helsinki’s past and present coexist harmoniously.

Pro Tip: Pair your visit with a stop at Kahvila Rastila, a nearby café serving excellent Nordic-inspired dishes.

Final Thoughts

While Helsinki’s landmarks are undeniably captivating, these hidden spots offer a more intimate and personal experience of the city. Whether you’re wandering through a historic island, discovering modern art, or simply relaxing in nature, these destinations showcase Helsinki’s diversity and depth. Pack your curiosity, embrace the unexpected, and let the road less travelled reveal itself.

Ready to explore Helsinki beyond the usual? These five spots are waiting to become your favourite stories.

Inspiration, Maybe – Volume 2

50 photographs, 50 stories, of which there is one of the 50 below.

They all start with –

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

And, the story:

Have you ever watched your hopes and dreams simply just fly away?

Everything I thought I wanted and needed had just left in an aeroplane, and although I said I was not going to, i came to the airport to see the plane leave.  Not the person on it, that would have been far too difficult and emotional, but perhaps it was symbolic, the end of one life and the start of another.

But no matter what I thought or felt, we had both come to the right decision.  She needed the opportunity to spread her wings.  It was probably not the best idea for her to apply for the job without telling me, but I understood her reasons.

She was in a rut.  Though her job was a very good one, it was not as demanding as she had expected, particularly after the last promotion, but with it came resentment from others on her level, that she, the youngest of the group would get the position.

It was something that had been weighing down of her for the last three months, and if noticed it, the late nights, the moodiness, sometimes a flash of temper.  I knew she had one, no one could have such red hair and not, but she had always kept it in check.

And, then there was us, together, and after seven years, it felt like we were going nowhere.  Perhaps that was down to my lack of ambition, and though she never said it, lack of sophistication.  It hadn’t been an issue, well, not until her last promotion, and the fact she had to entertain more, and frankly I felt like an embarrassment to her.

So, there it was, three days ago, the beginning of the weekend, and we had planned to go away for a few days and take stock.  We both acknowledged we needed to talk, but it never seemed the right time.

It was then she said she had quit her job and found a new one.  Starting the following Monday.

Ok, that took me by surprise, not so much that it something I sort of guessed might happen, but that she would just blurt it out.

I think that right then, at that moment, I could feel her frustration with everything around her.

What surprised her was my reaction.  None.

I simply asked where who, and when.

A world-class newspaper, in New York, and she had to be there in a week.

A week.

It was all the time I had left with her.

I remember I just shrugged and asked if the planned weekend away was off.

She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, hands around a cup of coffee she had just poured, and that one thing I remembered was the lone tear that ran down her cheek.

Is that all you want to know?

I did, yes, but we had lost that intimacy we used to have when she would have told me what was happening, and we would have brainstormed solutions. I might be a cabinet maker but I still had a brain, was what I overheard her tell a friend once.

There’s not much to ask, I said.  You’ve been desperately unhappy and haven’t been able to hide it all that well, you have been under a lot of pressure trying to deal with a group of troglodytes, and you’ve been leaning on Bentley’s shoulder instead of mine, and I get it, he’s got more experience in that place,  and the politics that go with it, and is still an ally.

Her immediate superior and instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position he had not taken advantage of a situation like some men would.  And even if she had made a move, which I doubted, that was not the sort of woman she was, he would have politely declined.

One of the very few happily married men in that organisation, so I heard.

So, she said, you’re not just a pretty face.

Par for the course for a cabinet maker whose university degree is in psychology.  It doesn’t take rocket science to see what was happening to you.  I just didn’t think it was my place to jump in unless you asked me, and when you didn’t, well, that told me everything I needed to know.

Yes, our relationship had a use by date, and it was in the next few days.

I was thinking, she said, that you might come with me,  you can make cabinets anywhere.

I could, but I think the real problem wasn’t just the job.  It was everything around her and going with her, that would just be a constant reminder of what had been holding her back. I didn’t want that for her and said so.

Then the only question left was, what do we do now?

Go shopping for suitcases.  Bags to pack, and places to go.

Getting on the roller coaster is easy.  On the beginning, it’s a slow easy ride, followed by the slow climb to the top.  It’s much like some relationships, they start out easy, they require a little work to get to the next level, follows by the adrenaline rush when it all comes together.

What most people forget is that what comes down must go back up, and life is pretty much a roller coaster with highs and lows.

Our roller coaster had just come or of the final turn and we were braking so that it stops at the station.

There was no question of going with her to New York.  Yes, I promised I’d come over and visit her, but that was a promise with crossed fingers behind my back.  After a few months in t the new job the last thing shed want was a reminder of what she left behind.  New friends new life.

We packed her bags, three out everything she didn’t want, a free trips to the op shop with stiff she knew others would like to have, and basically, by the time she was ready to go, there was nothing left of her in the apartment, or anywhere.

Her friends would be seeing her off at the airport, and that’s when I told her I was not coming, that moment the taxi arrived to take her away forever.  I remember standing there, watching the taxi go.  It was going to be, and was, as hard as it was to watch the plane leave.

So, there I was, finally staring at the blank sky, around me a dozen other plane spotters, a rather motley crew of plane enthusiasts.

Already that morning there’s been 6 different types of plane depart, and I could hear another winding up its engines for take-off.

People coming, people going.

Maybe I would go to New York in a couple of months, not to see her, but just see what the attraction was.  Or maybe I would drop in, just to see how she was.

As one of my friends told me when I gave him the news, the future is never written in stone, and it’s about time you broadened your horizons.

Perhaps it was.

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

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