Tag: Blog

What I learned about writing – Never be afraid to ask for or give advice

It’s part of the reason why I have a writing blog.

In the first instance, I aim to highlight the issues I have in every aspect of writing, from constructing a sentence to describing a scene to conversing between characters, while not losing the plot.

But it cuts a lot deeper than just the writing; there’s all that other tacky stuff, like marketing. The self-published author also has to be a consummate ad man, right out of the fifties and sixties, with all the slick means of selling what some might call the unsellable.

I have managed to hit every pot home and brick wall; there is.

Perhaps the best part is showcasing my writing, whether it is an episode of a long book, a short story, or parts of a novella.

But what is most satisfying is the comments, where nearly everyone is positive about my work, and sometimes they even buy a book.

I confess I’m not going to become an international best-selling author overnight, in a week, a month or even a year. But it is still a thrill when a book registers in the same column.

Conversely, I have several other authors’ websites and blogs that I read, and I make time every week to read other authors’ work, offer my opinion, and give a review, that rare thing that all authors need as part of their marketing strategy.

If I only had one day to stop over in – Lima – what would I do?

One‑Day Stopover in Lima? Make It Unforgettable With a Visit to Plaza Mayor

If you’ve only got 24 hours in Peru’s bustling capital, there’s one spot that will let you taste its history, culture, and culinary magic all at once: the historic heart of the city—Plaza Mayor.

Why Plaza Mayor is the Perfect One‑Stop Destination

What you getHow it fits a tight schedule
A UNESCO‑listed heritage zone – Colonial palaces, a cathedral, and the Government Palace all within a few blocks.No need to hop between neighborhoods; everything is foot‑accessible.
Iconic photo‑ops – Colorful façades, the famous “Basilica of San Francisco” bell tower in the background, and the central “Fuente de la Victoria.”Capture the city’s essence in minutes, leaving more time for food and souvenirs.
Culinary micro‑cosmos – Street vendors selling anticuchos, ceviche to go, and artisanal chocolate.Sample authentic Peruvian bites without a long sit‑down lunch.
Free or low‑cost entry – Most buildings can be admired from the outside; the Cathedral interior is a modest ticket.Keeps your budget intact for that extra pisco sour.

In short, Plaza Mayor is Lima’s “must‑see‑in‑an‑hour” that also gives you a genuine feel for the city’s soul.

Arriving at Plaza Mayor: The Logistics

  1. From the Airport (Jorge Chávez International – LIM)
    • Taxi / Ride‑share: 20‑30 min (≈ S/ 30‑40). Use a reputable app (Beat, Cabify) or the official airport taxi desk.
    • Bus “Airport Express”: Free, stops at the Central Station (Estación Central). From there, hop on a Metropolitano bus (Line 1) to Plaza Mayor (stop Plaza San Martín).
  2. Best Time to Go
    • Morning (08:00‑10:30): Light, fewer crowds, and the city’s iconic “Lima sunrise” casts a golden glow on the stone façades.
    • Late afternoon (16:00‑18:00): The plaza comes alive with street performers, and you’ll catch the sunset over the Pacific in the background of the Government Palace’s balcony.
  3. What to Wear
    • Light layers (Lima’s climate is mild, 18‑24 °C).
    • Comfortable walking shoes—cobblestones can be uneven.

The 3‑Hour Itinerary That Packs a Punch

1️⃣ 08:30 – 09:15  | Stroll Around the Square

  • Start at the Cathedral of Lima – Enter for a quick 10‑minute peek at the baroque altar and the tomb of the famed painter José Gálvez.
  • Walk clockwise: admire the Palacio de la Municipalidad, the elegant Palacio de Gobierno (guard change ceremony at 10 am if you stay a bit longer), and the Casa de la Literatura Peruana (pop‑in for a coffee and a literary souvenir).

2️⃣ 09:15 – 10:00  | Culinary Pit‑Stop

  • Anticucho stand (skewered beef heart) – ≈ S/ 10 for a tasty bite.
  • Ceviche “to go” from Ceviche La Mar kiosk (fresh, portable, and perfect for a waterfront vibe).
  • Pisco sour at the historic Bar “La Casa del Pisco” – a quick 5‑minute sip to kick‑start your day.

3️⃣ 10:00 – 10:45  | Dive Deeper – Guided Mini‑Tour

  • Free walking tours run daily (check the kiosk near the plaza). Guides will whisk you through the hidden stories of “El Cabildo” and the “El Cristo del Pacífico” statue.
  • If you prefer a solo pace, grab an audio guide from the Tourist Information Centre (S/ 5) and wander at your own rhythm.

4️⃣ 10:45 – 11:30  | Cultural Finale

  • Visit the Museum of the Central Bank of Peru (just a block away). A quick 30‑minute look at pre‑Columbian artifacts and colonial silverwork ties together the narrative of Lima’s past.
  • Take a final photo at the Fuente de la Victoria—the fountain’s bronze lion is a beloved Instagram spot.

Total time: ~3 hours, leaving you ample room for a quick hop to Miraflores or the airport for your onward flight.

Bonus: Extending the Magic (If Time Allows)

OptionWhy It Works After Plaza Mayor
Walk to the “Parque de la Exposición” (5‑min) – Beautiful gardens, a historic glass pavilion, and occasional art fairs.Keeps you in the historic zone while adding a green pause.
Cross to the “Barranco” district (taxi, 10 min) – Bohemian murals, the Bridge of Sighs, and a sea view.Gives you a taste of Lima’s modern, artistic side.
Head to “Miraflores” (Metropolitano, 20 min) – The clifftop “Parque del Amor” and the spectacular Circuito Mágico del Agua light show.Ideal for a sunset finale and a last‑minute souvenir hunt.

Quick Checklist for the One‑Day Stopover

  • Passport & boarding pass – Keep them handy for airport re‑entry.
  • S/ 50 cash – Small vendors and taxi rides still prefer cash.
  • Light rain jacket – Lima’s “garúa” (mist) can appear unexpectedly.
  • Portable charger – Your phone will be busy with photos, maps, and the audio guide.
  • Travel‑size sanitiser – Public plazas are bustling; stay safe.

Wrap‑Up: Why Plaza Mayor Beats All Other Options

In a city where the modern skyline competes with centuries‑old stone, Plaza Mayor is the single point where history, architecture, and flavour intersect. It lets you:

  • Walk through time (from the Spanish conquest to modern Peruvian identity).
  • Taste the nation (quick bites of ceviche and pisco).
  • Snap stunning photos without a long trek across traffic‑choked avenues.

So, if your itinerary says “Lima, 24 h,” set your compass to Plaza Mayor. One stop, endless stories, and a day that will feel far richer than the minutes on the clock.

Ready to Make Your Layover Legendary?

Book your taxi, grab a map, and let Plaza Mayor be the heartbeat of your Lima adventure.

Got a different favourite stopover spot in Lima? Drop a comment below—let’s keep the conversation (and the travel inspiration) rolling! 🌎

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 53/53

Days 52 and 53 – Writing exercise

You wake up in a room, a note on the mirror, a whole new identity, and a card with my new name on it.

…

I went to bed Thursday night after a few drinks at the Fox and Hounds with a half dozen or so lads who were having a Stag night for James Aloysius Corbey, the groom-to-be on Saturday.

That’s the first thing I remembered when I woke up the next morning, slightly hungover and vague.  About where I was, and who I was.

Because I woke up in a place I didn’t sleep.  The walls of the room were wallpapered, not painted; the roof was ornate plasterwork, not plain; and the main light was a chandelier, not a round plastic light found at IKEA.

As for the curtains, well, by that time I was beginning to think something was terribly wrong, like the Stag party boys had moved me to another hotel as a practical joke.

A quick glance sideways almost gave me a sign of relief, they had not planted a dead body, or worse, one of the three girls that turned up halfway into the session and ‘performed’ for the Stag.

I hoped his wife would never be found out.  Perhaps that was why they chose to be at least 50 miles away from his town. 

A sheet of paper on the bedside table told me I was in Morden, wherever that was.  Scrawled hurriedly was a note, “pack up your old life and put it in the suitcase, you are no longer that person”.

I shrugged.

It was a condition of joining the service that you left your old life behind.  It wouldn’t be that hard; my old life wasn’t a life; I had just been going through the motions. 

I hadn’t quite considered the ramifications of the change, but now that it was a reality, it wasn’t that hard. 

Out of curiosity, I looked out the window.  It overlooked the lane outside the hotel.  It looked almost like an anonymous suburban house.

I went to the closet, and my clothes were hanging up, the suitcase was on the rack, and yesterday’s clothes were in a laundry bag.  I quickly attended to cleaning the room of any evidence I’d been there.

Then I went into the bathroom, and everything was laid out, like I would have.  The only thing out of place was a handwritten note tacked to the mirror.

Written in spidery but neat cursive script, the calligraphy of a woman rather than a man.  It was neat and just readable.

Jack,

That is your name now, Jack Williamson.  The rest of your details are in an envelope in the drawer beside the bed.  Memorise them and destroy the paperwork in the usual manner. 

Your mission is to find Eloise Margarethe Anderson.

Your new cell phone has an untraceable email with the details of her disappearance.  There is a backpack under the bed with everything you will need. 

You will be contacted in due course, but if you have information or require research assistance, there is a number to call.  It will not be answered; it is for text messages only. 

Good luck.

Unsigned, which was no surprise.

There was a slight aroma of a familiar scent, the sort a woman would use, and I tried to remember who she was.

Tried.  The weight of the previous evening still hung over my head.  Thinking wasn’t easy, so I went and stood under the cold water for a few minutes to wash the cobwebs away.

I should have expected this.

Having graduated, if it could be called that, from training, the sort that taught you skills that most people would never need, and watching a large percentage of the other candidates wash out one by one, I made it to the last ten.

We were told we would learn whether we succeeded or failed within the week, and that we should go home and wait.  That had been five weeks ago, and I was sure I had failed.

Apparently, I had not failed.

Or this was a final test.  A final final test.

It bothered me that I could be transported from one place to another and know absolutely nothing about it.  According to one of the instructors, if that happened, you were as good as dead. 

Had it happened in a real-life situation, I would be.

So, after half an hour, dressed and compus mentus, just the thought of what had happened scared me.  We had been told to be on our guard the whole time, and I had not.

I pulled out the backpack, retrieved the file, discovered Jack Williamson was not the greatest of characters, and that the missing girl was no one of consequence, just someone’s daughter who went to London for a friend’s party and was never seen again.  She was reported missing. The police kept the file open for a month but found nothing substantive. The evidence pointed to the fact that she had purposely left the party. They tracked her to Waterloo Station, where she was met by a young man, and they disappeared into the underground.

They did not get on a train, underground or overground, and did not leave the station, at least as far as CCTV could see.  Conclusion: she did not want to be found.  The meeting at Waterloo was planned, and the man was known to her.  There were photos of her and the man, both identified.  There was a copy of the police file, and it showed they’d gone the extra mile.

Why?

Something didn’t add up.

I guess that was why it had become my first, and quite possibly last, mission.

….

The hotel was a few minutes from Morden underground station and then to Waterloo.  I didn’t waste time thinking about the how or the why of getting there; I figured that it was their way of saying that whatever you had before was gone, this is how it’s going to be, a different place, a different name, a different case.

There was no one at the hotel to ask, and even if there had been, I was sure any questions would be met with blank expressions and no information forthcoming.  It was probably a safe house.

Going out the front door, having seen up one from my room to the foyer, and after dropping the room key in the box provided for self-checkout, I saw an elderly couple going in as I went out.

“Good morning for a walk,” the lady said.

“Sounds like a good idea,”  I said, holding the door open for them, then heading off.

It was a short walk to the station, then a short wait for the Northern Line train.  I had enough time to read up on Waterloo Station, its entrances and exits, and some interesting station plans.

There was an interview with the girl’s father; her mother had left a few years earlier, abandoning them both for a work colleague.  The ex-wife did not paint the husband in a good light, subject to bouts of unemployment, heavy drinking, and domestic violence.  An interesting question, why leave a young girl in his care?

The neighbours didn’t see him much, not since his wife left, and said that he had changed.  The girl had been taken into child care, but he had managed to get her released into his custody on probation.  Nothing had happened until she disappeared.

If things were all right at home, why would she just up and leave?  He would not have let her go to the party if he didn’t trust her.

There was a document listing social media profiles found by the IT specialist assigned to the case, for the girl, her friends, particularly the one she went to the party with, and several email accounts for the father, mother and the two girls.

There was another, for the man she went to meet at Waterloo station.  The last message he received and the last message she sent told Jim which train she was on and the estimated arrival time.  After that, both phones went dead and hadn’t been reactivated.

I had photos of the two the last time they were picked up by CCTV, at the end of the Northern line arrival platform at Waterloo.

It was my starting point

…

Standing at the end of the platform, I looked up and saw the camera that had recorded their presence.  Behind me was the dark tunnel, and while they could have escaped that way, it was unlikely.  The CCTV would have been monitored, and they would not have got far.

I sat down at the very end, the last seat, and looked at the photograph.  Nothing special.  It was just one blurry shot taken from the continuous feed.

I sent a message to the email on the phone, “Can I see any CCTV footage relevant to the two at the end of the platform?” And waited.

In an idle moment, I loaded the Times crossword and started filling it in.

Five minutes, a reply, “Yes.”  There was an attachment, and I opened it.  Three minutes, walking to the end, talking, sitting, exactly where I was sitting, then getting up and retracing their steps, just as a train arrived and a lot of people got off.  That was where the CCTV lost track of them.

But…

Why were they sitting here?

Out of curiosity, I felt under the seat, expecting to find old chewing gum, but instead found two cell phones tucked under the metal fold, held in place by double-sided tape.

I made sure that anyone watching the current CCTV would not realise what I was doing.  I was going to assume they’d either thrown them on the tracks to be smashed or tossed them in a rubbish bin.

Not leave them to be retrieved. And if they did leave them, expecting to retrieve them, why hadn’t they come back?

They would be dead now, and I would have to recharge them.  It didn’t explain how they disappeared.

But on the way up to the main overland concourse, I checked all the CCTV locations against those labelled on the plan.  Three were missing, or at the very least, I couldn’t find them.

Three that would make it easy for them to leave without being noticed.  Having lost them at the station, they checked the CCTV footage outside it, but there were gaps.

I sent another email asking for CCTV coverage at any location for the exit near the three missing cameras.  This time it took 15 minutes. There was a reply, but no sign of them, and there was a black hold.

10 more minutes, I received another message and a file.  The file showed, a half hour later, what might have been the girl and man getting into a taxi.  Different clothes, hats hiding their faces, the man with a backpack.  Nothing conclusive, just a feeling.  There was a taxi registration and where it could be found.

I found a three-star hotel and checked in.  On the way from the station, I found a shop selling chargers for the two cell phones, and my first job was to charge them.

…

By the time the two phones were charged, I had the cab’s location and the driver’s number; the driver was an owner who went home at the end of his shift.  He would be there first thing in the morning, and so would I.

As Detective Inspector Strange, or so it said on the warrant card, with a rather interesting photo of my face.  Someone had assumed it might need one.

The phones were password-protected, but then entering the notebook computer solved that small problem.  I’d expected a treasure trove of data, and was immediately disappointed except…

On the man’s phone, photos showed the locations of the CCTV cameras that issued the alerts and a set of images charting a course around the dark spots.

Those photos were from a month ago, so was this disappearance planned? And planned meticulously.  There were no other messages, and the call histories on both phones had been erased except for her last call and one from his phone.

I sent it to my invisible assistant, and it came back with a surprise.  The number belonged to the cab driver who picked them up.  I went back to the CCTV footage and realised the taxi had been waiting for them to appear as they came out of the exit, not hailed by the man.

This was too easy.  How had the police failed to see what I was seeing?  Back to the police file, it seemed once they lost track of them in the station, they had only done a cursory check shortly after they disappeared, thinking they’d head straight for the exits.  They hadn’t.  They had found a place to change, away from prying eyes.

With a few hours to wait for the taxi driver to come off shift, I put my head down to get some rest.

I was woken several hours later by the vibration of the cell phone warning me of an incoming message.

It showed the taxi’s track from the time it picked up the two, including the stops it made afterwards.  It was an address in Guildford, Surrey, about 40 miles away.

A car had been ordered and would be out front of the hotel in an hour. I was to proceed with caution in establishing whether the two were in the house and to report back.

Once again, while washing the cobwebs away, I had to think that this was too easy, that there was something I was missing. The police would have gone through the same processes I had.

I took my time getting there, then parked some distance from the house. It was exposed, and they would see me coming, especially if someone was watching from the upstairs windows. If I had to make an assessment, it would be ideal. More importantly, in an emergency, they could get away quickly without being seen from the front of the house.

It wasn’t a random selection. A lot of thought had gone into this disappearance.

So, given the circumstances, I decided to drive to the front of the house and walk straight to the front door, with purpose, giving the impression I had a purpose to be there.

When I got out of the car, a curtain moved in a window from the house over the road, and I thought I saw movement in the upstairs window. No hesitation, I headed towards the front door, waited for a few seconds while I pretended to check my phone, then knocked, not forcefully, but loud enough for them to hear.

Nothing. No movement, no sounds behind the door.

Don’t knock again too soon and sound impatient. I waited, then knocked again. The same tempo. Not in a hurry.

This time, there were sounds from behind the door, then, with a flourish, it opened.

“Hello, Jack. Come on in.”

I tried not to look surprised. How did these people know I would be turning up on their doorstep? Unless…

The girl and the man were sitting in two chairs opposite someone I instantly recognised.

One of my instructors. The one who had supervised my final test. The one who gave no inkling as to what he was thinking, or believed in giving feedback.

“You’ll be pleased to know that eight out of ten candidates fail this test. It proved to us that you can find people who don’t want to be found. The thing is, we were not sure if the measures we put in place to protect these people were sufficient, and they are not.

But, more to the point, we now want you to find Eloise’s mother, Margarethe. The files will be sent to your phone imminently. In the meantime, a hotel has been booked for you at Heathrow, and you are booked on a flight to Vienna. ” He stood. “Well done. Now, off you go. Progress reports as per protocol.”

I got to sit down for all of five minutes.

Vienna! Wiener Schnitzel and Apfelstrudel. If there was time.

…

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

lovecoverfinal1

365 Days of writing, 2026 – My second story 8

More about my second novel

…

Today we are in Bratislava, Slovakia.

John has found Zoe after playing a little cat and mouse in the streets near the hotel. Back at the hotel, they just get back to the room when a member of Worthington’s hit team arrives and comes off second best.

Of course, the rest are stationed at the obvious exits, and it takes some effort to get away.

Even that escape is fraught with danger, but with all the cunning she can muster, Zoe makes sure they get back to Vienna.

With Worthington’s hit team hot on their trail, a diversion at the main railway station helps aid their departure.

By now, two things are certain:

Worthington is behind the latest attempted hit, and they are both in the firing line, and

John had to decide whether or not he wanted a life always looking over his shoulder.

No prizes for guessing his choice!

…

We’re still in Bratislava with Zoe, making a few repairs, having been injured in the getaway from the hotel, where bullets were flying around indiscriminately.

In a nondescript hotel near a railway station, the favourite accommodation for assassins, maybe, there’s enough time for John to get the message that Zoe is not happy with him bringing along a hit squad.

And, they’re on the news, that is to say, they know who it is that’s on the news; the blurry figures are too indistinct for anyone else to identify them. It was disconcerting to be called criminals fleeing the scene of a crime.

Back in London, Sebastian is about to have a set-to with Worthington, who has decided that Sebastian is too close and might compromise his black op, so he’s sending him to Paris.

Here, we learn that Sebastian has both Isobel and Rupert locked in the basement cells, awaiting interrogation, and that Worthington orders him to send them home.

Of course, Sebastian is not going to do anything of the sort.

He knows they know where John is, and by implication, where Zoe is, and wants to know.

In the first edit, I suspect I will have to mention Sebastian ‘arresting’ Rupert and Isobel just to keep continuity, and no unfathomable surprises later on.

If I only had one day to stop over in – Lima – what would I do?

One‑Day Stopover in Lima? Make It Unforgettable With a Visit to Plaza Mayor

If you’ve only got 24 hours in Peru’s bustling capital, there’s one spot that will let you taste its history, culture, and culinary magic all at once: the historic heart of the city—Plaza Mayor.

Why Plaza Mayor is the Perfect One‑Stop Destination

What you getHow it fits a tight schedule
A UNESCO‑listed heritage zone – Colonial palaces, a cathedral, and the Government Palace all within a few blocks.No need to hop between neighborhoods; everything is foot‑accessible.
Iconic photo‑ops – Colorful façades, the famous “Basilica of San Francisco” bell tower in the background, and the central “Fuente de la Victoria.”Capture the city’s essence in minutes, leaving more time for food and souvenirs.
Culinary micro‑cosmos – Street vendors selling anticuchos, ceviche to go, and artisanal chocolate.Sample authentic Peruvian bites without a long sit‑down lunch.
Free or low‑cost entry – Most buildings can be admired from the outside; the Cathedral interior is a modest ticket.Keeps your budget intact for that extra pisco sour.

In short, Plaza Mayor is Lima’s “must‑see‑in‑an‑hour” that also gives you a genuine feel for the city’s soul.

Arriving at Plaza Mayor: The Logistics

  1. From the Airport (Jorge Chávez International – LIM)
    • Taxi / Ride‑share: 20‑30 min (≈ S/ 30‑40). Use a reputable app (Beat, Cabify) or the official airport taxi desk.
    • Bus “Airport Express”: Free, stops at the Central Station (Estación Central). From there, hop on a Metropolitano bus (Line 1) to Plaza Mayor (stop Plaza San Martín).
  2. Best Time to Go
    • Morning (08:00‑10:30): Light, fewer crowds, and the city’s iconic “Lima sunrise” casts a golden glow on the stone façades.
    • Late afternoon (16:00‑18:00): The plaza comes alive with street performers, and you’ll catch the sunset over the Pacific in the background of the Government Palace’s balcony.
  3. What to Wear
    • Light layers (Lima’s climate is mild, 18‑24 °C).
    • Comfortable walking shoes—cobblestones can be uneven.

The 3‑Hour Itinerary That Packs a Punch

1️⃣ 08:30 – 09:15  | Stroll Around the Square

  • Start at the Cathedral of Lima – Enter for a quick 10‑minute peek at the baroque altar and the tomb of the famed painter José Gálvez.
  • Walk clockwise: admire the Palacio de la Municipalidad, the elegant Palacio de Gobierno (guard change ceremony at 10 am if you stay a bit longer), and the Casa de la Literatura Peruana (pop‑in for a coffee and a literary souvenir).

2️⃣ 09:15 – 10:00  | Culinary Pit‑Stop

  • Anticucho stand (skewered beef heart) – ≈ S/ 10 for a tasty bite.
  • Ceviche “to go” from Ceviche La Mar kiosk (fresh, portable, and perfect for a waterfront vibe).
  • Pisco sour at the historic Bar “La Casa del Pisco” – a quick 5‑minute sip to kick‑start your day.

3️⃣ 10:00 – 10:45  | Dive Deeper – Guided Mini‑Tour

  • Free walking tours run daily (check the kiosk near the plaza). Guides will whisk you through the hidden stories of “El Cabildo” and the “El Cristo del Pacífico” statue.
  • If you prefer a solo pace, grab an audio guide from the Tourist Information Centre (S/ 5) and wander at your own rhythm.

4️⃣ 10:45 – 11:30  | Cultural Finale

  • Visit the Museum of the Central Bank of Peru (just a block away). A quick 30‑minute look at pre‑Columbian artifacts and colonial silverwork ties together the narrative of Lima’s past.
  • Take a final photo at the Fuente de la Victoria—the fountain’s bronze lion is a beloved Instagram spot.

Total time: ~3 hours, leaving you ample room for a quick hop to Miraflores or the airport for your onward flight.

Bonus: Extending the Magic (If Time Allows)

OptionWhy It Works After Plaza Mayor
Walk to the “Parque de la Exposición” (5‑min) – Beautiful gardens, a historic glass pavilion, and occasional art fairs.Keeps you in the historic zone while adding a green pause.
Cross to the “Barranco” district (taxi, 10 min) – Bohemian murals, the Bridge of Sighs, and a sea view.Gives you a taste of Lima’s modern, artistic side.
Head to “Miraflores” (Metropolitano, 20 min) – The clifftop “Parque del Amor” and the spectacular Circuito Mágico del Agua light show.Ideal for a sunset finale and a last‑minute souvenir hunt.

Quick Checklist for the One‑Day Stopover

  • Passport & boarding pass – Keep them handy for airport re‑entry.
  • S/ 50 cash – Small vendors and taxi rides still prefer cash.
  • Light rain jacket – Lima’s “garúa” (mist) can appear unexpectedly.
  • Portable charger – Your phone will be busy with photos, maps, and the audio guide.
  • Travel‑size sanitiser – Public plazas are bustling; stay safe.

Wrap‑Up: Why Plaza Mayor Beats All Other Options

In a city where the modern skyline competes with centuries‑old stone, Plaza Mayor is the single point where history, architecture, and flavour intersect. It lets you:

  • Walk through time (from the Spanish conquest to modern Peruvian identity).
  • Taste the nation (quick bites of ceviche and pisco).
  • Snap stunning photos without a long trek across traffic‑choked avenues.

So, if your itinerary says “Lima, 24 h,” set your compass to Plaza Mayor. One stop, endless stories, and a day that will feel far richer than the minutes on the clock.

Ready to Make Your Layover Legendary?

Book your taxi, grab a map, and let Plaza Mayor be the heartbeat of your Lima adventure.

Got a different favourite stopover spot in Lima? Drop a comment below—let’s keep the conversation (and the travel inspiration) rolling! 🌎

What I learned about writing – Synonyms

Or, more to the point, we all want to use words that will emphasise the description or the point we want to make.

The trick is not to make it so obscure that we send the readers to the Thesaurus too many times before they get bored.

Then there is that other problem of using the same word over and over, and that too gets boring.

Such a word is said. But you have to be careful not to use too flowery a description of what is being said, or the manner in which it is being imparted.

Gushed – I mean, who gushes these days?

Snapped – that’s what alligators do, and they don’t speak.

Quietly, whispered, demanding, spitefully, angrily. Try to think of how you would impart the words if you were in the place of your character.

How would you feel on the other end of a verbal barrage?

Perhaps therein lies a possible solution to the problem of describing conversations, arguments, heated exchanges, or what do they call them these days, robust discussions.

How would you react?

If I only had one day to stop over in – Buenos Aires – what would I do

One Day, One Stopover, One Iconic Spot: Why Plaza de Mayo Is the Only Place You Need to Visit in Buenos Aires

You’ve got just 24 hours to soak up the spirit of Argentina’s capital. Instead of trying to cram a dozen neighbourhoods into a frantic sprint, focus on the beating heart of the city—Plaza de Mayo. With its rich history, striking architecture, and a handful of bite‑size experiences all within a few minutes’ walk, this single square will turn your layover into a truly memorable Buenos Aires story.

1. Why Plaza de Mayo Deserves the Spotlight

What makes it special?How it translates into a “must‑see” for a day‑stop
Historical epicenter – The square has witnessed the May Revolution (1810), countless presidential inaugurations, and the rise of modern Argentina.A quick walk here feels like stepping onto a living history book; you’ll understand the city’s soul in 30 minutes.
Architectural showcase – From the pink‑hued Casa Rosada to the neoclassical Cabildo and the grand Metropolitan Cathedral, styles span colonial, French‑Beaux‑Arts, and modernist.Photo‑ops galore—your Instagram feed will thank you.
Café culture – Right on the edge sits the legendary Café Tortoni, the oldest coffeehouse in the country.A perfect spot to refuel with a café con leche and a medialuna (Argentinian croissant).
Central hub – All major transport lines (Subte Line A, numerous bus routes, and the nearby Retiro train station) converge here, making it easy to reach even on a tight schedule.No time‑wasting detours—arrive, explore, and hop back on the plane.
Live atmosphere – Street musicians, political rallies, and open‑air vendors create a vibrant, ever‑changing tableau.You’ll leave with more than pictures—you’ll carry a slice of Buenos Aires life.

In short, Plaza de Mayo condenses the city’s history, culture, cuisine, and energy into a single, walkable rectangle.

2. The 3‑Hour “Plaza de Mayo Sprint” Itinerary

Even if you only have a few hours, you can cover the essentials without feeling rushed.

TimeActivityInsider tip
0:00 – 0:15Arrive & Orient – Step off the Subte (Line A) at Plaza de Mayo station. Take a moment on the main terrace to spot the iconic pink façade of the Casa Rosada.Look up to see the Balcony of the Casa Rosada—the spot where Eva Perón famously addressed crowds.
0:15 – 0:45Casa Rosada & Plaza Tour – Walk around the square, snap photos of the Monumento a los Caídos and the Obelisk of the Revolution. If you’re lucky, a guard change ceremony might be in progress.The guard ceremony occurs at 10 am on weekdays—check the schedule if you can.
0:45 – 1:20Cabildo & Metropolitan Cathedral – Pop inside the historic Cabildo (entry is free) to see the original colonial council chambers, then head next door to the Cathedral where Pope Francis was ordained.Bring a small donation for the Cathedral’s “café” (they serve a surprisingly good espresso).
1:20 – 2:00Coffee Break at Café Tortoni – Order the classic “café con leche” and a medialuna; soak up the Belle Époque interiors, complete with marble statues and vintage newspapers.Ask the staff for the “Tortoni special”—a mini‑tour of the literary figures who once frequented the place.
2:00 – 2:30Stroll Down Avenida de May – Walk the tree‑lined avenue toward Plaza San Martín, admiring the early‑20th‑century French‑style buildings.Spot the Mansard Roof of the Lloyd Palace—a great quick photo.
2:30 – 3:00Optional Quick Bite – Grab a choripán from a street vendor or a quick empanada at El Sanjuanino (just a few blocks away).If you’re a meat lover, a bite of bife de chorizo at the nearby Café Los Angelitos won’t disappoint.

Total: ~3 hours – leaving you ample time to return to the airport, freshen up, and board your next flight without stress.

3. Practical Details: Getting There & Getting Out

What you need to knowDetails
Closest airport connectionsFrom Ezeiza (EZE), a 45‑minute taxi or rideshare to Plaza de Mayo is the simplest. From Aeroparque (AEP), a 20‑minute taxi or the Aerobús to Retiro and a 5‑minute walk.
SubwayLine A (the oldest line) stops directly at Plaza de Mayo. Trains run every 5‑7 minutes; tickets cost ARS 30 (≈ US 0.16).
WalkingThe entire itinerary is a compact 1‑km loop—wear comfortable shoes.
SafetyPlaza de Mayo is a police‑patrolled zone, but stay aware of pickpockets, especially near market stalls. Keep your wallet in a front pocket.
LanguageSpanish is the default, but most staff at Café Tortoni speak basic English. Having a few phrases (“un café con leche, por favor”) goes a long way.
CurrencyArgentine pesos are cash‑friendly; most places accept cards, but have a small amount of cash for street vendors.
Time zoneBuenos Aires is UTC‑3 year‑round (no daylight‑saving).

4. Beyond the Square: If You’ve Got Extra Time

If your layover stretches to a full day, use Plaza de Mayo as a launchpad:

Nearby NeighborhoodWhy it’s worth a quick detour
San Telmo (10 min walk)Antique market on Sundays, tango cafés, and the iconic El Zanjón museum.
Puerto Madero (15 min by taxi)Modern skyline, waterfront restaurants, and the Fragata Sarmiento museum ship.
Recoleta (20 min by taxi)Famous Recoleta Cemetery (Eva Perón’s tomb) and upscale boutiques.

Even a brief 20‑minute stroll through any of these districts will deepen your Buenos Aires impression, but none will match the concentrated punch of Plaza de Mayo.

5. Capture the Moment: Photo Checklist

ShotDescription
Casa Rosada façadePink walls, iconic balcony—best in golden hour (early morning or late afternoon).
Cabildo doorwayColonial arches; frame with the flagpole for a historic vibe.
Café Tortoni interiorMarble busts, stained‑glass ceiling—look for the vintage espresso machine.
Street performerCapture the spontaneous tango or folk music that often fills the square.
Avenida de MayLeading‑line shot of the tree‑lined boulevard disappearing into the distance.

Pro tip: Use portrait mode for the architectural details and wide‑angle for the bustling square; you’ll get a professional‑looking gallery without a DSLR.

6. The Takeaway

When you have only one day to experience Buenos Aires, don’t chase every trendy barrio. Plaza de Mayo offers a microcosm of the city’s soul—history, politics, art, coffee culture, and that unmistakable Argentine buzz—all in a walkable, easy‑to‑reach spot.

By centring your layover around this iconic square, you’ll leave the capital with a story, a few unforgettable photos, and a taste of Argentine life—the perfect souvenir for a traveller on the move.

“If you want to understand a city, stand where its heart beats.”
— Your Buenos Aires adventure, distilled in a single plaza.

Ready to make your stopover unforgettable? Pack a light jacket, a camera, and an appetite for history, then let Plaza de Mayo do the rest.

Happy travels, and enjoy your fleeting yet fabulous taste of Buenos Aires!

365 Days of writing, 2026 – My second story 8

More about my second novel

…

Today we are in Bratislava, Slovakia.

John has found Zoe after playing a little cat and mouse in the streets near the hotel. Back at the hotel, they just get back to the room when a member of Worthington’s hit team arrives and comes off second best.

Of course, the rest are stationed at the obvious exits, and it takes some effort to get away.

Even that escape is fraught with danger, but with all the cunning she can muster, Zoe makes sure they get back to Vienna.

With Worthington’s hit team hot on their trail, a diversion at the main railway station helps aid their departure.

By now, two things are certain:

Worthington is behind the latest attempted hit, and they are both in the firing line, and

John had to decide whether or not he wanted a life always looking over his shoulder.

No prizes for guessing his choice!

…

We’re still in Bratislava with Zoe, making a few repairs, having been injured in the getaway from the hotel, where bullets were flying around indiscriminately.

In a nondescript hotel near a railway station, the favourite accommodation for assassins, maybe, there’s enough time for John to get the message that Zoe is not happy with him bringing along a hit squad.

And, they’re on the news, that is to say, they know who it is that’s on the news; the blurry figures are too indistinct for anyone else to identify them. It was disconcerting to be called criminals fleeing the scene of a crime.

Back in London, Sebastian is about to have a set-to with Worthington, who has decided that Sebastian is too close and might compromise his black op, so he’s sending him to Paris.

Here, we learn that Sebastian has both Isobel and Rupert locked in the basement cells, awaiting interrogation, and that Worthington orders him to send them home.

Of course, Sebastian is not going to do anything of the sort.

He knows they know where John is, and by implication, where Zoe is, and wants to know.

In the first edit, I suspect I will have to mention Sebastian ‘arresting’ Rupert and Isobel just to keep continuity, and no unfathomable surprises later on.

Another excerpt from “Strangers We’ve Become” – A sequel to ‘What Sets Us Apart’

…

It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone.  It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air.  In summer, it was the best time of the day.  When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.

On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’.  This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.

She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable.  The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day.  So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.

It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her.  It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

I sat in my usual corner.  Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner.  There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around.  I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria.  All she did was serve coffee and cake.

When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?”  She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.

“I am this morning.  I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating.  I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise.  I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”

“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me.  I have had a lot worse.  I think she is simply jealous.”

It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be.  “Why?”

“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”

It made sense, even if it was not true.  “Perhaps if I explained…”

Maria shook her head.  “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole.  My grandfather had many expressions, David.  If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her.  Before she goes home.”

Interesting advice.  Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma.  What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?

“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.

“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much.  Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone.  It was an intense conversation.  I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell.  It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”

“It is indeed.  And you’re right.  She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one.  She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office.  Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”

And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful.  She had liked Maria the moment she saw her.  We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived.  I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.

She sighed.  “I am glad I am just a waitress.  Your usual coffee and cake?”

“Yes, please.”

Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.

I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one.  What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.

There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it.  We were still married, just not living together.

This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her.  She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.

It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.

There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd.  She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right.  It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.

But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings.  But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.

Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart.  I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit.  The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.

I knew I was not a priority.  Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.

And finally, there was Alisha.  Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around.  It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties. 

At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata.  Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.

Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.

When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan.  She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores.  We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated.  It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.

It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard.  I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.

She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top.  She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.

Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak.  I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.

Neither spoke nor looked at each other.  I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”

Maria nodded and left.

“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests.  I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence?  All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”

My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.

“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us.  There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”

“Why come at all.  A phone call would have sufficed.”

“I had to see you, talk to you.  At least we have had a chance to do that.  I’m sorry about yesterday.  I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her.  I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”

An apology was the last thing I expected.

“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington.  I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction.  We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”

“You’re not coming with me?”  She sounded disappointed.

“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress.  You are so much better doing your job without me.  I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband.  Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less.  You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it.  I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”

It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement.  Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points.  I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever.  The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.

Then, her expression changed.  “Is that what you want?”

“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways.  But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”

“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”

That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud.  “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan.  You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy.  While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”

“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance.  I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother.  She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right.  Why do you think I gave you such a hard time?  You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously.  But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”

“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”

“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”

“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”

I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead.  Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers.  Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen.  Gianna didn’t like Susan either.

Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her.  She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.

She stood.  “Last chance.”

“Forever?”

She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face.  “Of course not.  I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship.  I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”

I had been trying.  “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan.  I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”

She frowned at me.  “As you wish.”  She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table.  “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home.  Please make it sooner rather than later.  Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”

That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car.  I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.

No kiss, no touch, no looking back. 

…

© Charles Heath 2018-2025

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