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Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Oslo

Oslo’s Quiet Gems: 5 Distinctive Attractions That Skip the Tourist Crowds

Oslo is a city defined by breathtaking fjords, modern architectural marvels, and world-class museums. While favourites like the Opera House and the bustling Vigeland Sculpture Park deserve their accolades, sometimes the best travel memories are forged in the quiet corners—those distinctive spots overlooked by the masses.

If you are seeking authenticity, tranquillity, and attractions that offer a truly unique Norwegian flavour without the elbow-to-elbow experience, put down the guidebook and follow our list.

Here are five distinctive Oslo attractions where you can slow down and savour the discovery.

1. Ekebergparken (Ekeberg Sculpture Park)

While Oslo has many incredible viewpoints, few combine panoramic vistas with world-class contemporary art quite like Ekebergparken. Located on the hillside southeast of the city centre, this park is less of a museum and more of an experience.

What Makes it Distinctive? The park features works by international greats like James Turrell, Marina Abramović, and Louise Bourgeois, cleverly integrated into the natural forest landscape. Beyond the art, the site itself is historically significant, featuring ancient rock carvings and WWII bunkers. Critically, these park trails offer one of the best and least crowded settings for capturing the iconic view immortalised in Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.”

Why It’s Uncrowded: It requires a short tram ride up the hill (Line 18 or 19 to Ekebergparken stop), which deters many tourists from sticking solely to the central harbour area.

2. The Emanuel Vigeland Mausoleum

Prepare yourself for a truly unique, slightly macabre, and deeply rewarding experience. While Gustav Vigeland’s towering statues draw millions, his highly eccentric brother Emanuel created a private, haunting masterpiece—his own mausoleum and final resting place.

What Makes it Distinctive? The entire interior of the small, unmarked structure is a dark, barrel-vaulted room adorned with frescoes collectively titled Vita (Life). The ceiling-to-floor artwork depicts dramatic, often heavy themes of human life, death, and sexuality. The atmosphere is deliberately intense: the lights are kept very low, and the acoustics are so sensitive that a caretaker politely requests silence to enhance the feeling of solemn isolation.

Why It’s Uncrowded: It has extremely limited opening hours (usually Sunday afternoons only), making it challenging to visit—which is exactly why it remains a hidden gem for dedicated travellers.

3. Hovedøya Island (The Main Island)

For an immediate escape from city life, hop on a short ferry ride (Boat B1, B2, B3, or B4) from Aker Brygge and head to Hovedøya, the largest and most historically rich island in the Oslo Fjord.

What Makes it Distinctive? Hovedøya offers a perfect blend of lush nature, bathing spots, and fascinating ruins. Within minutes of arriving, you can explore the preserved Cistercian monastery ruins dating back to 1147. Later, the island served as a military base, and you can still find remnants of old defensive structures. Wander the trails, enjoy a picnic by the water, or simply study the medieval stone walls, all while enjoying the crisp fjord air.

Why It’s Uncrowded: While popular with Oslo locals in the height of summer, international tourists often overlook the entire island system in favour of mainland attractions. The short boat journey feels like a genuine adventure but keeps the large tour groups away.

4. Damstredet and Telthusbakken

While Oslo is a modern capital, pockets of its wooden house past remain beautifully preserved. A short walk uphill from the central areas of the city brings you to the charming, picturesque streets of Damstredet and Telthusbakken.

What Makes it Distinctive? These two winding cobblestone streets feel like stepping into a storybook. Lined with perfectly maintained, brightly colored wooden houses from the 18th and 19th centuries, the whole atmosphere speaks of quiet history. Damstredet in particular offers splendid photo opportunities and a glimpse into how many Oslo residents lived before the major urban modernisation programs.

Why It’s Uncrowded: This attraction is purely residential and free. It requires no ticket and isn’t featured on organised group tours. It’s a perfect addition to a self-guided walking tour between the city centre and the tranquil Vår Frelser Cemetery (another quiet spot worth stopping at).

5. The Tøyen Botanical Garden (Botanisk Hage)

Located just outside the buzzing central districts in the Tøyen neighbourhood, Oslo’s Botanical Garden is a serene and scientifically significant outdoor museum that most tourists walk right past on their way to the newer attractions.

What Makes it Distinctive? Managed by the Natural History Museum, the garden is Norway’s oldest and most diverse living collection. Visitors can explore various climate zones within the beautiful Palm House and the Victoria House (home to massive water lilies). The highlight is often the peaceful Scent Garden, designed specifically for the visually impaired, and the historic Old Garden, showcasing plants used for food and medicine throughout Norwegian history.

Why It’s Uncrowded: Despite its beauty and central location near the Munch Museum, the garden offers ample space and shaded trails, meaning the large foot traffic in the area quickly dissipates once you enter the gates. It’s a perfect green lung for contemplation.

Seeking the Authentic Oslo

By prioritizing these five distinctive, yet uncrowded, locations, you gain a deeper understanding of Oslo’s rich history, its commitment to art integration, and the beautiful relationship Norwegians have with their surrounding nature.

Skip the queue, find your quiet corner, and enjoy the authentic pulse of this incredible Nordic capital.

Have you discovered a quiet spot in Oslo that you love? Share your hidden gem in the comments below!

What I learned about writing – Book covers are very important

And, of course, the description.

Probably one of the hardest things for a first-time author is not so much the writing but what is needed after the book is written.

You need a good description.  Short, sharp, incisive!

There’s a ream of advice out there, and I have read it all.

And, still, I got it wrong.

Then there is the cover.

I wanted simplistic, a short description to give the reader a taste of what’s in store, and let the story speak for itself.

No.

Apparently, a good cover will attract the reader to the book.

When I tendered my books on various sites to advertise them, sites such as Goodreads, and ThirdScribe, all was well with what I had done.

Then I submitted my books to a third site and they rejected the covers as too simplistic and the descriptions mundane, and wouldn’t post them.

Wow.

There’s a huge blow to the ego.  And just the sort of advice that would make a writer think twice about even bothering to continue.

But…

Perhaps the person who wrote that critique was being cruel to be kind.

At any rate, I am changing the covers, and rewording the descriptions.

Will it be a case of ‘what a difference a cover makes’?

PI Walthenson’s second case – A case of finding the ‘Flying Dutchman’.

Known only to a few, there is a legend that a ship named the ‘Flying Dutchman’ left Nazi Germany in the last weeks of the war and set sail for America, escorted by U-boats, under a different name. Aboard was a trove of treasure and gold worth a ‘king’s ransom’.

It was said that it had been sent to a group of American Nazis to create the Fourth Reich at an appropriate time. Over the years since many expeditions off the coast had searched, but found no trace of the vessel or the treasure.

In other words, it was just a legend created to boost tourism.

…

Fast forward to 2024. Our intrepid private detective, Harry Walthenson, overhears a conversation at Grand Central Station. It was the oddness of the message that caught his attention. An investigation turned up nothing out of the ordinary, and he thinks no more about it.

Then Harry is kidnapped, interrogated, and asked questions over and over about a date and a place, why he went there, and when he could not give satisfactory answers, he was beaten half to death and left for dead on a rubbish heap. He was lucky that it was a living space for homeless men; otherwise, he would have died.

In the aftermath, he once again gives it no more thought.

…

After resolving his first case successfully, there’s no rest. Harry’s angry mother comes to his office and demands that he find out where his father has gone. She believes he has run off with a mistress, not for the first time.

Perhaps it was not the wisest decision she has made, because Harry promises to investigate, and adds that she might not like what he finds.

He soon discovered he does not like what he finds, that his father’s friends, a cabal formed at University, have two who are his mother’s current lovers, and another, a criminal blackmailing his father.

Felicity, now his partner, working on a different case, and trying to get answers, uncovers a crime family involved in guarding a disused warehouse on the docks, where she believes Harry had been taken for interrogation, and subsequently dumped nearby to die.

Why are they up to? What is so important that the empty warehouse needs guarding? Who is employing them?

Harry, following up on the death of the blackmailer, traces his death back to an enforcer employed by his grandfather. His mother’s grandfather was a pre-war industrialist who made his fortune in war munitions and shipbuilding.

He was also a member of the American Nazi party.

When Harry also discovers a logbook belonging to a so-called wartime Liberty ship the “Paul Revere” in brackets ‘Freiheitskämpfer’, hidden by his father, and written in a code that is not readily identifiable.

It is no longer a matter of a father who has run off with his mistress; it is a very frightened man in fear of his life, running from a group who will stop at nothing to get the logbook back. And when Harry discovers a family connection to the group, it becomes a race against time to decode the log and find his father before his grandfather does.

…

Coming soon: Harry Walthenson’s new adventure – A case of finding the ‘Flying Dutchman’

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Dublin

Escape the Crowds: Dublin’s Top 5 Hidden Gem Attractions

Dublin is a city of undeniable charm, buzzing with energy, history, and a legendary pub scene. While iconic spots like the Guinness Storehouse, Trinity College, and Dublin Castle are must-sees, they often come with lengthy queues and shoulder-to-shoulder crowds.

But what if you long for a taste of authentic Dublin culture and history without the tourist rush?

Luckily, the Irish capital is brimming with distinctive features tucked away in quieter corners. We’ve compiled a list of the top five visitor attractions in Dublin that offer unique experiences, fascinating stories, and, best of all, a peaceful respite from the throngs.

1. The Chester Beatty Library

Nestled within the walls of Dublin Castle (but often overlooked by those rushing to the main courtyard), the Chester Beatty is a true global treasure. This museum and library holds the collected works of Sir Alfred Chester Beatty, one of the greatest collectors of the 20th century.

Why it’s distinctive: This isn’t just a collection of old books. You’ll find exquisite manuscripts, rare books, miniature paintings, and decorative arts from across Asia, the Middle East, North Africa, and Europe. It houses some of the world’s most important holdings of Islamic, East Asian, and Western printed materials.

The Quiet Factor: While the Dublin Castle grounds can be busy, the library itself offers a tranquil, dimly lit haven perfect for quiet reflection. Best of all? Admission is free. Don’t forget to visit the rooftop garden café for stunning views over the city.

2. The Dublin Writers Museum (Temporarily Closed – See Alternative Below)

Note: While the original Dublin Writers Museum building is currently closed for relocation, the spirit of literary Dublin is still alive and accessible in less-crowded formats.

The Alternative: The Museum of Literature Ireland (MoLI)

Located in UCD’s stately Newman House on St. Stephen’s Green, MoLI is a beautiful, modern museum dedicated to the rich tapestry of Irish writing, from James Joyce to contemporary voices.

Why it’s distinctive: Set in the beautiful historic home where literary giants like Gerard Manley Hopkins and James Joyce once studied, MoLI offers interactive displays, beautiful exhibitions (including the original ‘Copy No. 1’ of Joyce’s Ulysses), and stunning period rooms.

The Quiet Factor: While popular with writers and literature lovers, MoLI rarely reaches the peak capacity of the larger city museums. It offers spacious exhibition rooms and one of the finest cultural gift shops in the city. The tranquil, hidden courtyard garden is a perfect spot to enjoy a coffee and escape the city noise.

3. Richmond Barracks, Inchicore

Stepping slightly outside the immediate city centre opens up historical venues of immense importance. Richmond Barracks, located in the Inchicore area, offers a deep dive into pivotal moments of Irish history, particularly the 1916 Easter Rising.

Why it’s distinctive: This site served as the primary holding place for over 3,000 men arrested after the 1916 Rising. It was here that Pádraig Pearse and the other executed leaders were court-martialed. Today, it operates as a heritage centre and a community hub, offering moving and highly informative tours detailing the barracks’ role through the centuries, including its post-independence use as housing for local families.

The Quiet Factor: Because it requires a short tram ride (the Luas Red Line to Suir Road), it naturally filters out the casual tourist crowd. You’ll likely enjoy a small, intimate guided tour that allows for detailed questions and reflection.

4. The Marsh’s Library

For those who crave the smell of old paper and the feeling of stepping back in time, Marsh’s Library is an essential visit. Dating back to 1707, it is one of the oldest public libraries in Ireland.

Why it’s distinctive: This library remains virtually unchanged since it opened its doors in the early 18th century. It features beautiful dark oak bookcases, wire cages (used to prevent the theft of valuable texts), and over 25,000 rare and fascinating books. You can walk the very aisles where writers like Bram Stoker and James Joyce once studied.

The Quiet Factor: Tucked away behind St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Marsh’s charges a small entrance fee, which helps keep visitor numbers manageable. The atmosphere is hushed and reverential—it’s an ideal place to spend an hour truly absorbing Dublin’s intellectual history without jostling for space.

5. The Botanic Gardens (National Botanic Gardens of Ireland)

While not entirely undiscovered, Dublin’s National Botanic Gardens in Glasnevin offers such a vast, sprawling space that crowds simply melt away amongst the lush greenery.

Why it’s distinctive: Spread across nearly 50 acres, the gardens feature stunning Victorian glasshouses (including the curvilinear range designed by Richard Turner), extensive plant collections, a tranquil arboretum, and historically significant grounds. It’s an essential centre for conservation and research.

The Quiet Factor: Located a short bus ride north of the city centre (near the Glasnevin Cemetery, another excellent, quiet spot), the gardens provide endless walking paths, hidden benches, and quiet corners. You can easily spend an entire afternoon wandering the grounds and enjoying the peace, particularly once you move past the main entrance and glasshouses.

Trade the Noise for Narrative

Dublin’s biggest attractions tell a powerful story, but sometimes the best narratives are found off the beaten path. By seeking out these quieter, distinctive attractions, you can enjoy a more personal, profound, and peaceful encounter with the heart and history of the Irish capital. Happy Exploring!

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

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

Writing a book in 365 days – 304

Day 304

What is ‘style’

…

What Is Style, Anyway? A Deep Dive into Its Many Faces

You hear the word “style” thrown around everywhere. “Oh, she has great style!” “That’s not really my style.” “We need to adopt a new brand style.” But have you ever stopped to consider just how multifaceted and powerful this seemingly simple concept truly is?

From the clothes we wear to the way we craft a sentence, style is an invisible force shaping perception, conveying meaning, and defining identity. Let’s peel back the layers and explore the various aspects that make up the rich tapestry of “style.”

1. Your Signature: Personal Style

This is perhaps the most intimate and immediately recognizable form of style. Your personal style is your unique fingerprint on the world – the way you speak, dress, decorate your home, or even how you approach a problem.

In writing, your personal style is your distinctive voice. It’s the rhythm of your prose, your preferred vocabulary, your unique way of structuring sentences, and the characteristic tone you adopt. It’s what makes a reader say, “Ah, I can tell this is by [Your Name]!” early on in a piece. It’s developed over time, shaped by your experiences, personality, and influences, and it’s what makes your work authentically yours. Whether it’s a dry wit, a poignant lyricism, or a straightforward reportage, your personal style is your artistic DNA.

2. The Blueprint: Categorical & Aesthetic Styles

Beyond the individual, style often manifests in broader categories or aesthetic movements. These are frameworks that have evolved over time, often tied to specific historical periods, philosophies, or artistic intentions.

Think about architecture: you immediately picture different elements for Gothic (soaring arches, intricate details, dramatic light) versus Minimalist (clean lines, functional forms, understated elegance).

In literature, these categorical styles define genres and movements:

  • Minimalist Prose: Characterised by sparse language, short sentences, and a focus on showing rather than telling. It strips away excess to convey essential meaning.
  • Gothic Style: Evokes a sense of dread, mystery, and romanticism, often featuring dark settings, supernatural elements, and heightened emotions.
  • Free Verse: A poetic style that disregards traditional meter and rhyme schemes, allowing the poet to create their own rhythm and structure, often mimicking natural speech patterns.
  • Stream of Consciousness: A narrative style that attempts to depict the multitudinous thoughts and feelings that pass through the mind.

These styles provide a common language and a set of shared conventions that allow artists and audiences to connect within a recognised context. They are not rigid cages but rather rich traditions from which to draw inspiration or, indeed, to deliberately diverge.

3. The Adaptable Garment: Contextual & Required Style

Sometimes, style isn’t about personal expression or aesthetic preference; it’s about purpose and audience. This is where contextual and required style comes into play – the practical application of tailoring your approach to fit a specific need.

  • Publisher Guidelines: If you’re submitting a manuscript, adhering to publisher style guides (e.g., APA, MLA, Chicago, or an in-house guide) is non-negotiable. This dictates everything from formatting and citation methods to hyphenation rules and preferred spellings. It ensures consistency, clarity, and professionalism.
  • Audience-Specific Writing: A story written for a children’s magazine will have a vastly different style than an academic paper or a pulp fiction novel. The vocabulary, sentence structure, themes, and overall tone must be carefully calibrated to resonate with the intended readers. You wouldn’t use complex metaphors for toddlers, nor overly simplistic language for a literary journal.
  • Platform & Medium Specifics: Articles for a fast-paced online news site demand punchy headlines and concise paragraphs, while a feature in a glossy print magazine might allow for more expansive prose and evocative imagery. Each medium has its own stylistic conventions that best serve its purpose and audience.
  • Brand Voice: Businesses and organisations develop a “brand style” or “voice” to ensure all their communications are consistent and reflect their identity, whether it’s formal and authoritative or playful and approachable.

This aspect of style is less about artistic freedom and more about effective communication. It’s the mark of a skilled practitioner who understands how to adapt their craft to meet external demands without necessarily sacrificing their core personal style. It’s about being versatile enough to wear many hats.

The Art of Balancing Act

Ultimately, mastering style involves a fascinating dance between these three aspects. How do you maintain your unique personal voice while writing in a minimalist style for a publisher with strict guidelines aimed at a niche audience?

The answer lies in understanding that style is not monolithic but a dynamic interplay. Your personal style forms the foundation; categorical styles offer a palette of expressive tools; and contextual styles provide the framework for effective delivery.

Embrace the journey of discovering your own unique style, explore the vast landscapes of established aesthetics, and cultivate the wisdom to adapt your approach when the situation demands it. For understanding “style” in all its forms, you unlock a powerful key to self-expression, communication, and connection.

‘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 realizes 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.

…

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

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In a word: Bore, or is that boar

I’ve had the ubiquitous pleasure of being called one, and that is, a bore.

Probably because I spend so much time telling people about the joys and woes of being a writer.

You can be a tedious bore, cooking could be a bore, and then you could bore someone to death, and then you will bore the responsibility of, yes, doing just that.

Would it be murder or manslaughter?

But, of course, there are other meanings of the word, such as, on my farm I have a bore.

No, we’re not talking about the farmhand, but where artesian water is brought to the surface, in what would otherwise be very arid land.

Or, could be the size of a drill hole, and in a specific instance the measurement of the circular space that piston goes up and down.  And if you increase the size of the bore, the more powerful the engine.

Or it could refer to the size of a gun barrel, for all of you who are crime fiction writers.

But, let’s not after all of that, confuse it with another interpretation of the word, boar, which is basically a male pig.

It could also just as easily describe certain men.

Then there is another interpretation, boor, which is an extremely rude person, or a peasant, a country bumpkin or a yokel.

I’ve only seen the latter in old American movies.

There is one more, rather obscure interpretation, and that is boer, which is a Dutch South African, who at the turn of the last century found themselves embroiled in a war with the British.

An excerpt from “Betrayal” – a work in progress

It could have been anywhere in the world, she thought, but it wasn’t.  It was in a city where if anything were to go wrong…

She sighed and came away from the window and looked around the room.  It was quite large and expensively furnished.  It was one of several she had been visiting in the last three months.

Quite elegant too, as the hotel had its origins dating back to before the revolution in 1917.  At least, currently, there would not be a team of KGB agents somewhere in the basement monitoring everything that happened in the room.

There was no such thing as the KGB anymore, though there was an FSB, but such organisations were of no interest to her.

She was here to meet with Vladimir.

She smiled to herself when she thought of him, such an interesting man whose command of English was as good as her command of Russian, though she had not told him of that ability.

All he knew of her was that she was American, worked in the Embassy as a clerk, nothing important, whose life both at work and at home was boring.  Not that she had blurted that out the first they met, or even the second.

That first time, at a function in the Embassy, was a chance meeting, a catching of his eye as he looked around the room, looking, as he had told her later, for someone who might not be as boring as the function itself.

It was a celebration, honouring one of the Embassy officials on his service in Moscow, and the fact he was returning home after 10 years.  She had been there once, and still hadn’t met all the staff.

They had talked, Vladimir knew a great deal about England, having been stationed there for a year or two, and had politely asked questions about where she lived, her family, and of course what her role was, all questions she fended off with an air of disinterested interest.

It fascinated him, as she knew it would, a sort of mental sparring as one would do with swords if this was a fencing match.

They had said they might or might not meet again when the party was over, but she suspected there would be another opportunity.  She knew the signs of a man who was interested in her, and Vladimir was interested.

The second time came in the form of an invitation to an art gallery, and a viewing of the works of a prominent Russian artist, an invitation she politely declined.  After all, invitations issued to Embassy staff held all sorts of connotations, or so she was told by the Security officer when she told him.

Then, it went quiet for a month.  There was a party at the American embassy and along with several other staff members, she was invited.  She had not expected to meet Vladimir, but it was a pleasant surprise when she saw him, on the other side of the room, talking to several military men.

A pleasant afternoon ensued.

And it was no surprise that they kept running into each other at the various events on the diplomatic schedule.

By the fifth meeting, they were like old friends.  She had broached the subject of being involved in a plutonic relationship with him with the head of security at the embassy.  Normally for a member of her rank, it would not be allowed, but in this instance it was.

She did not work in any sensitive areas, and, as the security officer had said, she might just happen upon something that might be useful.  In that regard, she was to keep her eyes and ears open and file a report each time she met him.

After that discussion, she got the impression her superiors considered Vladimir more than just a casual visitor on the diplomatic circuit.  She also formed the impression that he might consider her an ‘asset’, a word that had been used at the meeting with security and the ambassador.

It was where the word ‘spy’ popped into her head and sent a tingle down her spine.  She was not a spy, but the thought of it, well, it would be fascinating to see what happened.

A Russian friend.  That’s what she would call him.

And over time, that relationship blossomed, until, after a visit to the ballet, late and snowing, he invited her to his apartment not far from the ballet venue.  It was like treading on thin ice, but after champagne and an introduction to caviar, she felt like a giddy schoolgirl.

Even so, she had made him promise that he remain on his best behaviour.  It could have been very easy to fall under the spell of a perfect evening, but he promised, showed her to a separate bedroom, and after a brief kiss, their first, she did not see him until the next morning.

So, it began.

It was an interesting report she filed after that encounter, one where she had expected to be reprimanded.

She wasn’t.

It wasn’t until six weeks had passed when he asked her if she would like to take a trip to the country.  It would involve staying in a hotel, that they would have separate rooms.  When she reported the invitation, no objection was raised, only a caution; keep her wits about her.

Perhaps, she had thought, they were looking forward to a more extensive report.  After all, her reports on the places, and the people, and the conversations she overheard, were no doubt entertaining reading for some.

But this visit was where the nature of the relationship changed, and it was one that she did not immediately report.  She had realised at some point before the weekend away, that she had feelings for him, and it was not that he was pushing her in that direction or manipulating her in any way.

It was just one of those moments where, after a grand dinner, a lot of champagne, and delightful company, things happen.  Standing at the door to her room, a lingering kiss, not intentional on her part, and it just happened.

And for not one moment did she believe she had been compromised, but for some reason she had not reported that subtle change in the relationship to the powers that be, and so far, no one had any inkling.

She took off her coat and placed it carefully of the back of one of the ornate chairs in the room.  She stopped for a moment to look at a framed photograph on the wall, one representing Red Square.

Then, after a minute or two, she went to the mini bar and took out the bottle of champagne that had been left there for them, a treat arranged by Vladimir for each encounter.

There were two champagne flutes set aside on the bar, next to a bowl of fruit.  She picked up the apple and thought how Eve must have felt in the garden of Eden, and the temptation.

Later perhaps, after…

She smiled at the thought and put the apple back.

A glance at her watch told her it was time for his arrival.  It was if anything, the one trait she didn’t like, and that was his punctuality.  A glance at the clock on the room wall was a minute slow.

The doorbell to the room rang, right on the appointed time.

She put the bottle down and walked over to the door.

A smile on her face, she opened the door.

It was not Vladimir.  It was her worst nightmare.

…

© Charles Heath 2020

NANOWRIMO – November 2025 – Day 16

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The Third Son of a Duke

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A year passes, replacements are found, and it’s time to leave.

Of course, being in the middle of wartime, Australia is busy requisitioning ships to take soldiers, nurses, and doctors, plus supplies to the various fronts. Getting home might not be as easy as he thought it might be.

Passage will require a government permit and finding out when the next available ship that hasn’t been requisitioned is available, hoping that it is not fully booked with other passengers, doctors and nurses, and soldiers returning.

And if he is lucky enough to get a berth, it will cost more, as no doubt the shipping company is running a risk of being torpedoed on the high seas.

There are basically no convoys and no naval escorts.

It is also just after Australia has sent a large contingent to Egypt in preparation for the Dardanelles offensive, aka Gallipoli.

Before he goes, he sends his father a letter, one that states that he is no longer standing on the sidelines and is heading home to take up the fight his brothers had started, and from which one had died in service to his country.

He had also got a note from one of his contemporaries, read ex school bullying that basically calls him a coward who ran away.  The white feather sent makes a pretty damning statement.

Thus, from the cattle station to Brisbane in a plane, probably experiencing what was soon to become passenger flights, and getting a few ideas about aerial reconnaissance, which no doubt others were already considering, he gets a series of trains to Melbourne.

Back then, travel was far more difficult, and in wartime, a far more difficult proposition.

…

2105 words, for a total of 24865 words.