Category: blogging

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Abuja

Hidden Gems of Abuja: 5 Off-the-Beaten-Path Attractions You Shouldn’t Miss

Abuja, Nigeria’s capital city, is often celebrated for its wide boulevards, modern architecture, and bustling political hubs. While most tourists flock to well-known spots like the National Mosque, Millennium Park, or the Aso Rock Monument, there’s a quieter, more intimate side to Abuja that often goes unnoticed. Beyond the crowds lies a collection of serene, unique, and culturally rich attractions that offer a more personal and authentic experience.

If you’re looking to explore Abuja beyond the tourist brochures, here are the top five lesser-known yet distinctive attractions that promise tranquillity, beauty, and a touch of local charm—without the hustle and bustle.

1. Abuja National Zoo

Tucked away in the quieter Gwarimpa district, the Abuja National Zoo offers a peaceful escape into the world of Nigerian wildlife. Unlike the more crowded national parks, this compact zoo is family-friendly and sees far fewer visitors, making it ideal for a relaxed afternoon.

What makes it special?
Home to indigenous species like the Nigerian dwarf crocodile, West African manatees, and various primates, the zoo also features educational exhibits on conservation. The lush, well-maintained grounds include shaded walkways and picnic spots—perfect for nature lovers and families seeking a quiet day out.

Pro Tip: Visit on weekday mornings for an even more serene experience, and don’t miss the reptile house—it’s one of the few places in the country showcasing a dedicated collection of African reptiles.

2. Jabi Lake and Boat Club (Beyond the Kayaks)

While Jabi Lake is known for its weekend kayaking activities and lakeside cafes, few visitors venture beyond the main dock or the popular eateries. However, the surrounding trails and the quieter eastern shoreline offer a completely different vibe.

What makes it special?
Early mornings at the lake are magical—fog hovers above the water, birds call from the reeds, and fishermen paddle silently in wooden canoes. The lesser-used walking paths along the eastern bank provide scenic views and a chance to observe local life along the water’s edge. It’s a photographer’s dream and a meditative retreat from city noise.

Pro Tip: Bring a coffee from a nearby café and take a quiet stroll along the back trails before 8 AM to fully appreciate the lake’s tranquil beauty.

3. Kubwa Hills and Rock Formations

Located just a short drive from the city centre in the Kubwa neighbourhood, these natural rock formations rise dramatically from the savannah, offering panoramic views and a sense of untouched wilderness.

What makes it special?
Unlike Aso Rock, which is often crowded and surveilled, the Kubwa Hills are largely unmarked and unmanaged—making them perfect for adventurous travellers who enjoy hiking and solitude. The area is rich in geological history, with unique weathered granite outcrops and hidden caves. It’s also a favorite among local artists and spiritual groups, adding a subtle cultural layer to the landscape.

Pro Tip: Visit with a local guide or a trusted companion, wear comfortable shoes, and bring water—there are no facilities on-site. Sunset here offers one of the most underrated views in Abuja.

4. Arts Market at Sheraton Hotel (Abuja Arts & Crafts Market)

While many head to city malls and souvenir shops, the weekly arts and crafts market held outside the Sheraton Hotel (Friday afternoons to Sunday evenings) is a hidden treasure trove of Nigerian creativity.

What makes it special?
Here, you’ll find hand-carved sculptures, traditional fabrics, beadwork, and pottery from artisans across Nigeria’s 36 states. Because it’s not widely advertised, it attracts more locals than tourists, making it a genuine cultural exchange. The prices are fair, and vendors are happy to share stories behind their crafts.

Pro Tip: Go on a Saturday morning to see the most variety and engage with artists while they’re setting up their stalls. It’s a fantastic place to pick up authentic, one-of-a-kind souvenirs.

5. Nigeria Nuclear Regulatory Authority (NNRA) Garden and Sculpture Park

An unexpected gem, the NNRA premises in Jabi doubles as a hidden sculpture garden and green space. While the agency is operational, its front garden is open to the public and maintained like a mini-park.

What makes it special?
The space features abstract metal sculptures by Nigerian artists, serene water features, and winding pathways through thick foliage. The blend of art, nature, and science is unique—rarely seen elsewhere in the city. It’s an oasis of calm where you can sit, reflect, and enjoy a moment of quiet contemplation.

Pro Tip: Combine your visit with a stop at the nearby Jabi Lake or a quiet lunch at one of the less crowded local restaurants in Jabi Mall.

Final Thoughts: Discover a Different Abuja

Abuja is more than government buildings and grand monuments. Its quieter corners reveal a city rich in culture, nature, and local life. By stepping off the beaten path, you not only avoid the crowds but also gain a deeper appreciation for the capital’s soul.

So the next time you’re in Abuja—or planning a visit—skip the queues and embrace the serenity. These five spots may not be on every tourist map, but they promise experiences that are authentic, memorable, and refreshingly uncrowded.

Abuja’s best-kept secrets are waiting—will you go find them?

Have you visited any of these hidden spots? Share your experience in the comments below, or tag us on social media with your Abuja off-the-grid adventures!

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – Beyond the second novel

Where the dynasty begins

…

Ground Zero for Greatness: Why Location is the Ultimate Character in a Book Series

If you’re going to write a book series, sometimes it will be rooted in one particular place—the place I would call home.

Dynasties need a place that is theirs, to start from nothing. And when you’re building a multi-book epic, a generational saga, or even a sprawling television-style procedural, it’s all about picking a location.

Before you plot your twists, before you name your protagonist, and long before you figure out how the story ends, you have to choose the dirt. Because in serialised fiction, geography isn’t just a backdrop; it’s the heartbeat of your entire fictional universe.

Here is why your series needs a definitive home base, and how to pick a location that can carry the weight of an entire dynasty.

1. The Power of “Home” in Serialised Fiction

Think of the most iconic series in literature and pop culture. Game of Thrones is inextricably linked to Winterfell and the stark brutality of the North. Lord of the Rings always circles back to the comforting, green hearth of the Shire. In crime fiction, Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch is Los Angeles—the asphalt, the traffic, the neon-lit grit.

When a series has a distinct home, it offers the reader a psychological anchor. No matter how chaotic the plot gets, or how many new characters are introduced in book three or four, returning to “home” provides a sense of continuity.

As a writer, establishing a home base gives you a baseline. You can’t show how much a character or a family has changed unless you show them against the backdrop of where they started.

2. Dynasties Need Dirt: Starting from Nothing

Every great dynasty—whether it’s the Corleones in The Godfather, the Roys in Succession, or a fantasy bloodline clawing its way to a throne—needs a genesis point.

To make a dynasty compelling, you have to show the climb. And to show the climb, you need a starting block that feels tactile, specific, and often, limiting.

  • The Mud and the Scaffolding: Starting from nothing means your characters are shaped by the geography of their struggle. Are they mining coal in a bleak valley? Are they scraping by in a crowded port city? The physical environment dictates their resourcefulness, their culture, and their desperation.
  • The Claim: A dynasty isn’t just a family; it’s real estate. The moment a group of characters stakes a claim on a specific piece of land—whether it’s an abandoned farm, a contested borough, or an uncharted island—the story shifts from mere survival to legacy-building.

When you pick a location, ask yourself: What does this dirt demand from the people who walk on it?

3. How to Choose the Right Location for Your Series

Picking a location isn’t about just pointing a finger at a map or making up a cool-sounding fantasy name. It’s a strategic choice that will dictate the trajectory of your entire series. Here’s how to nail it:

Give the Location Personality

Treat your setting like a main character. It should have moods, history, biases, and secrets. A coastal town isn’t just “near the water”—it’s salty, isolated, suspicious of outsiders, and at the mercy of the tides. The weather, the architecture, the local cuisine, and the regional slang should all bleed into the narrative.

Ensure Room for Expansion

A common pitfall in series writing is picking a location that is too small. If your entire story takes place in a single room or a tiny village, you’ll run out of narrative fuel by book two. Ensure your chosen location has layers: neighbourhoods, surrounding wilderness, political jurisdictions, or hidden undergrounds that you can peel back as the series progresses.

Make It Inhospitable (At Least a Little Bit)

Comfort breeds stagnation; struggle breeds dynasties. Whether it’s harsh winters, political corruption, economic depression, or literal monsters at the gates, your location should present ongoing obstacles. A dynasty is forged in the forge, after all.

4. The Location Evolves With You

One of the greatest joys of writing a series is watching the home base change over time.

In Book 1, your characters might be shivering in a leaky shack on the edge of town, dreaming of something better. By Book 5, that same shack might be replaced by a sprawling estate, or serve as the historic foundation of a massive corporate or political empire.

Because the location stays the same while the characters change, the setting becomes a measuring stick for time and ambition. Readers love nothing more than recognising a street corner, a building, or a landmark that appeared in the first book, but seeing it entirely transformed through the lens of the characters’ success (or downfall).

Final Thoughts: Plant Your Flag

If you’re staring at a blank document, paralysed by the sheer scope of the series you want to write, stop trying to plot the ending. Stop trying to introduce every character.

Instead, look for the place.

Find the town, the planet, the estate, or the street corner that feels like the epicentre of your imagination. Plant your flag there. Make it messy, make it real, and make it home. Because once you find the right location, the dynasty will build itself.

…

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 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 her down for the last three months, and if she 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 that 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 that 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 was 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 who, where, 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 just shrugging and asking 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 the intimacy we used to have, where 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 was instrumental in her getting the position, but unlike some men in his position, he had not taken advantage of the situation like some might.  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.  At 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, followed 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 out of the final turn, and we were braking so that it would stop 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 the new job, the last thing she’d want was a reminder of what she left behind.  New friends, new life.

We packed her bags, threw out everything she didn’t want, a free trip to the op shop with stuff 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 had been 6 different types of planes departing, 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 to 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 2020-2026

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Coming soon.  Find the above story and 49 others like it in:

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 16

As we all know, writing by the seat of your pants is almost the same as flying by the seat of your pants, a hazardous occupation.

As it happens, I like writing this way because like the reader, I don’t know what to expect next.

And equally, at times, you can write your self into a corner, much like painting, and then have to go back, make a few changes and//or repairs and then move forward.

It’s part of the writing process, only in this case, the changes occur before you’ve finished the novel if you finish.  Quite often a lot of writers get only so far, then the manuscript hits the bottom drawer, to be brought out on a distant rainy day.

Or your cat has mocked your writing ability one too many times.

Therefore, we’re winding back to Episode 16, and moving forward once again, from there.

…

O’Connor seemed to be more affluent than I because he was living in a flat located in an upmarket building.  Getting into the ground floor required a passkey, one I suspect might also be needed to get in the front door of his flat, but I’d worry about that later.

My first problem was that front door, and it was not until a tradesman exited that I took the opportunity to appear to arrive at the same time, pretending to find my card, and brushing past him as he was exiting.  He ignored me, his hands full, being in a hurry.

It took a day and a half of watching the building, waiting for an opportunity.  His flat was on the third floor and although there was an elevator, I took the stairs, hoping that I wouldn’t run into anyone.

Quickly and quietly, and thankfully without seeing another resident, I came out into the passageway, and it was about ten steps to his front door.  Number 37.  Not far away, in one direction, the end of the passage, and numbers 38, 39, and 40.  In the other, four more flats and the end of the corridor.  Windows at either end, perhaps an escape route.  I would not use the elevator if I had to leave in a hurry.

There were two elevators and one staircase.  Both elevators were stationary on the ground floor.

I knocked lightly on the door to number 37.

No answer.

I knocked a little harder on the door.  It was quite solid, and I had to wonder if the knocking sound penetrated the solid wood.

I checked the lock.  Simple to open.  We’d been given instruction by a master locksmith, and I’d brought my tools.

I waited a minute, checked to see if the elevators were still on the ground floor, then picked the lock and was inside within a minute.

Silence.

I felt along the wall for a light switch, usually by the door, and found it, and flicked it on.  The sudden light was almost blinding, but then my eyes adjusted.

Trashed, much the same as my flat.

But, with a difference.

A woman was stretched out on the floor, unmoving.  I could see, from where I was standing, she had been hit on the back of the head and could see the wound, and a trickle of blood through her hair.

Five steps to reach her, I reached down to check for a pulse.

Yes, she was alive.

I shook her gently.  She didn’t react.  I shook her a little more roughly and she stirred, then, as expected, lashed out.

I caught her hands, saying, “I just found you.  I’m not your enemy.”

Of course, considering I was a stranger in what could be her flat without permission, I was not surprised she continued to struggle until I tried being reassuring.  Then she stopped and asked, “Who are you?”

“A friend of O’Connor.  I worked with him.  Something happened to him at work and he said if that happened, I was to come here.  He didn’t say anything about you, though.”

“I live here, in the flat next door.  I heard a noise and came to investigate.  That’s all I remember.”

I helped her up into a sitting position, and, holding her head in her hands, looked around.  “Did you do this?”

“No.  Just got here.  But it’s the same at my place.  The people who did this are looking for something.  By the look of it, they didn’t find it here either.”

“I’ll get a damp cloth for your head.  It doesn’t look serious but there might be a slight concussion that might need attention.”

She felt the back of her head, and, when she touched the wound, gasped, “It hurts though.”

I stood and went over to the kitchenette.  O’Connor was not much of a cook, the benches looked new, and there was nothing out.  I looked in a draw near the sink and found a cloth, still with the price tag on it.  So were several utensils in the drawer.  I ran it under the water, then went back to her, now off the floor and sitting on one of the two chairs.  I handed her the wet cloth and she put it against the injured part of her head.

I made a mental note, it didn’t look like O’Connor had been here long, if at all.  Something was not right here, and if that was the case, I should take care when saying anything to this woman.

“Who are you again?” she asked.

“I worked with him.  My name is irrelevant.  It’s unlikely that he mentioned me to you, or anyone.  It’s the nature of our work.”

“Why should I believe you?  You could be my attacker.”

“If that were the case, why would I still be here trying to be helpful.”

A good question that elicited a curious expression.

“What do you do, what did Oliver do?”

Alarm bells were going off.  Oliver was not O’Connor’s first name.

“Nothing very interesting, I can assure you, and definitely nothing that would warrant this happening.  If it had only been me, I would have not thought any more of it, but since we worked together, and this has also happened to him, it seems we are mixed up in something bad.”

“Where is he, by the way?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.  If you live next door and know him well enough to be here, he might have told you.”

“No.  He never spoke about work.”

She was trying to stand so I helped her up and held on when it looked like she was about to collapse.  Last time I had a knock to the head, I had dizziness for a minute of two.  Her knock had been a lot harder.”

“Are you alright?”  She didn’t look it.

“I will be, I’m sure.”

I let her go, and she took several steps, then gave me a rather hard look.  “Why are you here again?”

“Trying to find my friend.”

“How did you get in here?”

Rather than make her disorientated, the knock must have sharpened her senses.  Time to test a theory. 

“I think we should call the police now, and report the break-in.”

I pulled out my phone.

“Look, I don’t want to get mixed up in this.  You go, and I report this when I get back home.  And, if you find him, tell him Josephine is looking for him.”

As I thought.  She was not able to explain to the authorities why she was in this flat, as I’m sure she believed I couldn’t either.

She started walking towards the door.  My staying any longer would raise her suspicions about me, and any search I was going to do would have to wait.  I opened the door, she walked out, and I followed shutting the door after me.

I left her standing outside the door and headed for the stairs.  A last glance back showed her still where I left her.  I went down to the first landing, then stopped.  It was part of the training, to treat everyone as suspicious.

Then I heard her voice, as she passed the top of the staircase, on her way back to her flat.  “He was here, looking for the files.  No, he’s gone.”  A minute’s silence, then “On my way.”

Another minute, I heard the elevator car arrive on the third floor.

I quickly ran down the stairs to the ground floor and waited at the door until she came out of the elevator, heading for the door.

Then as she passed through the front door, I came out into the foyer just in time to see a car stop out the front, and a familiar face out through the rear window.

Nobbin.

© Charles Heath 2019-2022

‘The Devil You Don’t’ – A beta reader’s view

It could be said that of all the women one could meet, whether contrived or by sheer luck, what are the odds it would turn out to be the woman who was being paid a very large sum to kill you?

John Pennington is a man who may be lucky in business, but not so lucky in love. He has just broken up with Phillipa Sternhaven, the woman he thought was the one, but relatives and circumstances, and perhaps because she was a ‘princess’, may also have contributed to the end result.

So, what do you do when you are heartbroken?

That is a story that slowly unfolds, from the first meeting with his nemesis on Lake Geneva, all the way to a hotel room in Sorrento, where he learns the shattering truth.

What should have been solace after disappointment turns out to be something else entirely, and from that point, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

He suddenly realises his so-called friend Sebastian has not exactly told him the truth about a small job he asked him to do, the woman he is falling in love with is not quite who she says she is, and he is caught in the middle of a war between two men who consider people becoming collateral damage as part of their business.

The story paints the characters, cleverly displaying all their flaws and weaknesses. The locations add to the story at times, taking me back down memory lane, especially to Venice, where, in those back streets, I confess it’s not all that hard to get lost.

All in all, a thoroughly entertaining story with, for once, a satisfying end.

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Available on Amazon here: https://amzn.to/2Xyh1ow

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The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 72

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new installment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

…

Charlene, and speaking to Boggs

…

She had been one of the few nice girls at school and we had got along better than most.  Boggs had once told me she liked me but was disappointed I hadn’t noticed her.  I suppose, back then, I didn’t recognize the signs, and even now, I was still all at sea with girls.

Was she Boggs’s girlfriend?  If she was, it was the best-kept secret.

“Hello Charlene,” I said when she also looked up to see who had entered the room.

“Sam.”

“Are you…”

Before I could finish she interrupted, “I’m working in the sheriff’s office, and dad asked me to keep a watch over Boggs.”

“You don’t have to be in the room,” Boggs growled.  “It’s not as if I’m going anywhere.”

It was hardly a conciliatory tone.  And a mental note, Boggs was uncharacteristically angry. With her, or with me?

“My father asked me to do a job, so here I stay.  It’s for your protection as much as anything else.”  Then, to me, “how are you, Sam?”

“Good.”

“I understand you found him on the beach belonging to the Cossatino’s.  Odd place to be, Sam, for you at least?”

“Nadia and I were searching the coastline for coins with metal detectors when we stumbled over a body.  Thought at first it was a beached shark.”

Boggs turned his head back.  “Whose idea was it?”

Curious response and I thought about telling him it was mine, but something told me to tell the truth. “Nadia.  And before you ask, no, I don’t think she had any other idea in mind because as you and I both know, there’s no access from the ocean to the shore through the reef.  That much I ascertained for myself, and that goes for the whole coastline of The Grove.”

If he had looked down from the top of the cliff face, at any point along the coastline he would have seen that for himself.  But, that might not always have been the case because there were almost two centuries and a lot of seismic activity in between.  I’d seen the big A, but no other evidence it might be the spot, but Boggs had been there, and it was likely he knew it a likely spot too.

He nodded, which meant he had checked himself, which gave him a reason for being at The Grove, but not finishing up where he’d landed.  There was something else in his expression and had I not had the knowledge I had, I would have ignored it.

“Why look for coins then?”

“Something to do, I guess, since you’ve stopped asking me to help you.  That and doing a little investigation on the side.  I’m amazed at just how much information there is out there, and it’s a battle to sort fact from fiction.  And I didn’t have the head start you have.”

“You do realize Nadia is a Cossatino.  You can’t be consorting with the enemy.”

“I thought she was just someone to hang out with since we hadn’t hit it off at school.  In case you didn’t notice, she hasn’t been around these parts for several years, going to Italy to get away from the family.  But, I get it, she’s still a Cossatino, or so everyone keeps telling me, and not someone I should be associating with.  You’re not the only one issuing dire warnings.”

“That’s your problem, Sam, you see the good in everyone, even if they’re bad.”

“Should I apply that theory to you.  You don’t finish up unconscious on a beach where you’re not supposed to be.  What happened?”

I could practically see the wheels turning while he formulated an excuse he thought I would buy, then said, “I slipped and fell, something that shouldn’t have happened?”

“Not unless you’d been seen and the Cossatino’s were either coming to get you or were chasing you?”

He didn’t answer perhaps knowing Charlene was there to get answers, but his expression told me it was close to the truth.

“No.  Slipped, a fundamental error setting up.  I was simply sloppy.”

“You were trespassing.”

“I was practicing my skills, and it’s the best rockface along the coast for exactly that.  It’s not the first time I’ve tried.”

OK, we weren’t going to get past the ‘I was practicing mantra’, so I moved on to the next question, “Where have you been lately?”

“The caves in the hills, and trying a bit of climbing there, too.”

“You shouldn’t be doing it alone.”

“I wouldn’t have to if my so-called friend wasn’t cavorting with a snake.”

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

The 2am Rant: There’s more time for TV

Being confined to home because despite the conquering of COVID, it’s still out there and we have to live with it – something in my condition I can’t take too many risks with – not only gives me, and a lot of others more time to write, it also enables us to explore a few more leisure options to fill in the time.

After all, we can hardly just keep writing endlessly.

Well, perhaps some of us could.

At first, I decided I would do some virtual travelling, you know, go to places I would never go in person, like South Africa, Kenya, Egypt, South America, you know the sort of places I mean, the ones where you can’t get travel insurance cover, or not without mortgaging your home.

That lasted about a day. Seeing the pyramids online was not the same as being there, getting the sand blown in your face, or the tour bus being hijacked, and you spend the next three months in a dark, hot, hell hole while the kidnappers negotiate with governments that refuse to negotiate with terrorists.

So far, I’m not filling in my time very well.

There are weeds to be pulled, lawns to be cut, shrubs and trees to be pruned, painting to be done, you know, all of those chores that you put off until tomorrow, knowing tomorrow will never come.

Don’t ask me to explain that.

So, we’re left with television.

Firstly there was a series called Yellowstone, a western in a modern setting, three series worth. Yes, we watched all of them, no, didn’t like the swearing, or Beth Dutton, Rip was channelling the Duke (John Wayne), and Kevin Costner, well, his stint in Dances with Wolves stood him in good stead.

Geez though, how much trouble can one ranch attract? Indians, speculators, developers, and an international airport? To be honest, at times it spiralled out of control, but for sheer entertainment value, it was slightly better than I thought it might be. As for Jamie, how could one person be so complicated?

Then there was another series, Away. OK, this was about as far-fetched as a premise could get, and the characters, as diverse, and sometimes as obtuse as any I’ve seen thrown together for over eight months. Thank god we didn’t have to suffer eight months of it.

It was good, I guess, with people being the way they are, and I’d expected in the confines of that small space for so long, they might have killed each other off one at a time, like in Lord of the Flies, but no such luck.

My favourite? The Russian. He might have been blind but he was interesting. Just would have liked a few subtitles for us non-Ghana, Chinese, Russian, and Indian people.

As for White House Farm, I’m still trying to work out who killed them all, because it definitely wasn’t the daughter. It had to be the indifferent son, or at his behest. Full marks to the dogged detective, who, the last time I saw him, he was a rather improbable Hercules. Funny how your impression of a performance goes back to one you’ve seen him before.

Which is another of our viewing interests, watching a show and trying to work out where we’ve seen the actors before. Some are familiar and seem to be in everything, others rarely seen, or remembered. I hope this is not a sign of their acting talent, or more to the point, lack of it.

At the moment we are in the middle of Young Wallender. Those who may have seen Branagh in the Wallender series would remember this as being the most stultifying of series, filmed bleakly in a bleak country with bleak characters, and bleak crimes.

Fortunately, the Young Wallender series is not as bleak, but it has dark undertones. Some might call this gritty. There are four more to go so it can only get better.

Like jumping off a ten-storey building, it’s so far so good…

What I learned about writing – Where do you write?

Where the Muse Strikes: Unearthing Your Most Comfortable Writing Nook

We’ve all been there. Staring at a blank screen, a half-finished manuscript, or a sudden spark of inspiration that demands to be captured. But where, oh where, do we find that perfect, almost magical, spot that unlocks our creative flow? It’s a question that sparks endless curiosity among writers, and the answers are as varied and unique as the stories we tell.

Is it the hushed reverence of a dedicated office, a sanctuary meticulously designed for productivity? Perhaps it’s a room with a breathtaking ocean view, where the rhythmic crash of waves whispers tales of distant lands. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the allure of a dark, atmospheric basement, a place where shadows play and spooky narratives can truly come to life.

For some, inspiration might strike in the most unexpected of places. The hustle and bustle of a train station, with its constant movement and transient characters, could be a fertile ground for observation and storytelling. Even the familiar confines of work, while potentially rife with its own unique set of challenges, might surprisingly serve as a launchpad for that next great idea.

My own writing journey has seen a few different homes. My current dedicated space is a converted garage, a cozy nook lined with the comforting presence of countless books. It’s a space brimming with potential, though I must admit, it’s not always the most serene. A certain smart-aleck cat seems to have a knack for demanding attention right when a crucial plot point is about to unfold, adding an unpredictable element to my creative process.

When the feline supervisor is temporarily distracted, or when the late-night hour beckons, I often find myself drawn to the couch in the living room. There, amidst the quiet hum of the house, I can sometimes wrestle a thousand words from the depths of my imagination, the narrative flowing with a surprising ease, cat-related interruptions notwithstanding.

Then there are the times when the muse arrives disguised as a delicious meal. A cafe or restaurant can be an irresistible lure. It often starts innocently enough, with me scribbling notes on the ambiance, the food, the fascinating people around me. But before I know it, those observations morph into something more, drawing me deeper into the story and, on occasion, landing me in hot water with my patient dining companions. It seems a bit of intense introspection can sometimes be mistaken for complete disengagement from the present company!

And let’s not forget the technological marvels that have infiltrated our lives. The advent of writing programs for mobile phones is a double-edged sword. While they offer unparalleled portability, they also blur the lines between downtime and work, and frankly, sometimes I wonder if these devices have become too smart, outsmarting our own intentions with their constant connectivity and endless distractions. But hey, that’s a whole other story for another day, isn’t it?

So, where do you find your most comfortable writing place? Is it a grand study, a quiet corner of a coffee shop, or perhaps the backseat of a moving vehicle? Share your secret writing sanctuaries in the comments below – let’s inspire each other to find that perfect spot where our words can truly soar!

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 226

Day 226 – Avoiding clichés

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Tired Tropes: Why It’s Time to Retire “Smart as a Whip,” “Light as a Feather,” and “dumb as a rock” (And What to Use Instead)

We’ve all been there. You’re in the flow of writing a scene, drafting a marketing email, or chatting with a friend, and a familiar phrase drops off your fingertips.

She was light as a feather. He was smart as a whip. That idea is dumb as a rock.

They’re comfortable. They’re automatic. And, frankly, they are dead on arrival.

In copywriting and creative writing alike, clichés are the fast-food of language: they fill a craving instantly, but they leave your audience feeling uninspired and unsatisfied. When we rely on tired idioms, we trade specific imagery for lazy shorthand.

If you want to elevate your writing, boost your SEO engagement by reducing bounce rates (readers stick around longer for original prose!), and captivate your audience, it’s time to banish these three overused similes.

Let’s break down why they fail, and explore fresh, vibrant alternatives that will make your writing pop.

Cliche #1: “Smart as a Whip”

Why It Fails

Where did this even come from? A leather strap attached to a handle doesn’t exactly scream “cognitive genius.” While etymologists debate its origins—some point to the snap of a whip representing quickness, others to a “smart” (stinging) lash—the phrase has been beaten to death. It’s a vague umbrella term that tells your reader someone is intelligent without showing how that intelligence manifests.

Fresh Alternatives

Intelligence isn’t a monolith. A person can be mathematically gifted, socially brilliant, or quick on their feet. Show your reader the flavor of their smarts:

  • For quick-wittedness: Sharp as a tack, quick-silver, nimble-minded, brilliantly agile.
  • For deep intellect: Encyclopedic, sagacious, razor-sharp, intellectually voracious.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “She was smart as a whip during the negotiation,” try:“She sliced through the corporate jargon with surgical precision, anticipating counter-arguments before they even left the room.”

Cliché #2: “Light as a Feather”

Why It Fails

Unless you are literally writing a scientific paper about avian plumage, “light as a feather” is completely devoid of sensory detail. It’s a ghost of a description. It doesn’t help the reader feel the weightlessness; it just tells them the math of the mass.

Fresh Alternatives

Weightlessness can be terrifying, graceful, or magical. Tap into the physical sensations of air, movement, and suspension to bring your descriptions to life:

  • For physical objects: Buoyant, ethereal, gossamer, weightless, vaporous, floating on a breeze.
  • For people or movements: Effortless, floating, unanchored, graceful as a drifted leaf.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “The vintage silk dress was light as a feather,” try:“The vintage silk cascaded over her skin like a second atmosphere, practically floating on the ambient air.”

Cliché #3: “Dumb as a Rock”

Why It Fails

Aside from being unoriginal, calling someone (or something) “dumb as a rock” is a blunt-force instrument. It lacks nuance, and frankly, rocks have a lot of geological history going for them—they are much more interesting than this insult implies. Relying on this phrase misses an opportunity to inject humor, vivid imagery, or specific critique into your writing.

Fresh Alternatives

If you need to describe a lack of common sense, ignorance, or a thoroughly unwise decision, you have a wealth of colorful alternatives at your disposal:

  • For foolishness: Clueless, vacant, dense as lead, hopelessly out-to-lunch, playing checkers in a chess grandmaster tournament.
  • For bad ideas: Ill-conceived, half-baked, structurally unsound, a house of cards.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “That business strategy is dumb as a rock,” try:“That business strategy was about as seaworthy as a screen-door canoe.”

How to Spot Clichés in Your Own Writing

Writing without clichés isn’t about never using a common phrase again; it’s about developing an editor’s eye for autopilot writing. The next time you edit your work, run this quick mental check:

  1. The “First Thought” Test: If a phrase or comparison pops into your head immediately, it probably popped into a million other writers’ heads, too. Pause, delete it, and force yourself to brainstorm three alternative descriptions.
  2. Appeal to the Senses: Clichés are abstract. Real writing is sensory. Does your description sound, smell, look, feel, or taste like something specific?
  3. Show, Don’t Tell: Instead of telling us someone is “smart as a whip” or a concept is “dumb as a rock,” show us the action, the consequence, or the environment that proves it.

Upgrade Your Vocabulary Today

Language is a living, breathing toolkit. When we rely on clichés like smart as a whip, light as a feather, and dumb as a rock, we dull our tools. Swap them out for specific, evocative, and surprising alternatives, and watch your writing instantly transform from generic to unforgettable.

What’s your least favorite cliché? Drop it in the comments below along with your favorite alternative!

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Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Abuja

Hidden Gems of Abuja: 5 Off-the-Beaten-Path Attractions You Shouldn’t Miss

Abuja, Nigeria’s capital city, is often celebrated for its wide boulevards, modern architecture, and bustling political hubs. While most tourists flock to well-known spots like the National Mosque, Millennium Park, or the Aso Rock Monument, there’s a quieter, more intimate side to Abuja that often goes unnoticed. Beyond the crowds lies a collection of serene, unique, and culturally rich attractions that offer a more personal and authentic experience.

If you’re looking to explore Abuja beyond the tourist brochures, here are the top five lesser-known yet distinctive attractions that promise tranquillity, beauty, and a touch of local charm—without the hustle and bustle.

1. Abuja National Zoo

Tucked away in the quieter Gwarimpa district, the Abuja National Zoo offers a peaceful escape into the world of Nigerian wildlife. Unlike the more crowded national parks, this compact zoo is family-friendly and sees far fewer visitors, making it ideal for a relaxed afternoon.

What makes it special?
Home to indigenous species like the Nigerian dwarf crocodile, West African manatees, and various primates, the zoo also features educational exhibits on conservation. The lush, well-maintained grounds include shaded walkways and picnic spots—perfect for nature lovers and families seeking a quiet day out.

Pro Tip: Visit on weekday mornings for an even more serene experience, and don’t miss the reptile house—it’s one of the few places in the country showcasing a dedicated collection of African reptiles.

2. Jabi Lake and Boat Club (Beyond the Kayaks)

While Jabi Lake is known for its weekend kayaking activities and lakeside cafes, few visitors venture beyond the main dock or the popular eateries. However, the surrounding trails and the quieter eastern shoreline offer a completely different vibe.

What makes it special?
Early mornings at the lake are magical—fog hovers above the water, birds call from the reeds, and fishermen paddle silently in wooden canoes. The lesser-used walking paths along the eastern bank provide scenic views and a chance to observe local life along the water’s edge. It’s a photographer’s dream and a meditative retreat from city noise.

Pro Tip: Bring a coffee from a nearby café and take a quiet stroll along the back trails before 8 AM to fully appreciate the lake’s tranquil beauty.

3. Kubwa Hills and Rock Formations

Located just a short drive from the city centre in the Kubwa neighbourhood, these natural rock formations rise dramatically from the savannah, offering panoramic views and a sense of untouched wilderness.

What makes it special?
Unlike Aso Rock, which is often crowded and surveilled, the Kubwa Hills are largely unmarked and unmanaged—making them perfect for adventurous travellers who enjoy hiking and solitude. The area is rich in geological history, with unique weathered granite outcrops and hidden caves. It’s also a favorite among local artists and spiritual groups, adding a subtle cultural layer to the landscape.

Pro Tip: Visit with a local guide or a trusted companion, wear comfortable shoes, and bring water—there are no facilities on-site. Sunset here offers one of the most underrated views in Abuja.

4. Arts Market at Sheraton Hotel (Abuja Arts & Crafts Market)

While many head to city malls and souvenir shops, the weekly arts and crafts market held outside the Sheraton Hotel (Friday afternoons to Sunday evenings) is a hidden treasure trove of Nigerian creativity.

What makes it special?
Here, you’ll find hand-carved sculptures, traditional fabrics, beadwork, and pottery from artisans across Nigeria’s 36 states. Because it’s not widely advertised, it attracts more locals than tourists, making it a genuine cultural exchange. The prices are fair, and vendors are happy to share stories behind their crafts.

Pro Tip: Go on a Saturday morning to see the most variety and engage with artists while they’re setting up their stalls. It’s a fantastic place to pick up authentic, one-of-a-kind souvenirs.

5. Nigeria Nuclear Regulatory Authority (NNRA) Garden and Sculpture Park

An unexpected gem, the NNRA premises in Jabi doubles as a hidden sculpture garden and green space. While the agency is operational, its front garden is open to the public and maintained like a mini-park.

What makes it special?
The space features abstract metal sculptures by Nigerian artists, serene water features, and winding pathways through thick foliage. The blend of art, nature, and science is unique—rarely seen elsewhere in the city. It’s an oasis of calm where you can sit, reflect, and enjoy a moment of quiet contemplation.

Pro Tip: Combine your visit with a stop at the nearby Jabi Lake or a quiet lunch at one of the less crowded local restaurants in Jabi Mall.

Final Thoughts: Discover a Different Abuja

Abuja is more than government buildings and grand monuments. Its quieter corners reveal a city rich in culture, nature, and local life. By stepping off the beaten path, you not only avoid the crowds but also gain a deeper appreciation for the capital’s soul.

So the next time you’re in Abuja—or planning a visit—skip the queues and embrace the serenity. These five spots may not be on every tourist map, but they promise experiences that are authentic, memorable, and refreshingly uncrowded.

Abuja’s best-kept secrets are waiting—will you go find them?

Have you visited any of these hidden spots? Share your experience in the comments below, or tag us on social media with your Abuja off-the-grid adventures!