Tag: Thoughts

Harry Walthenson, Private Detective – the second case – A case of finding the “Flying Dutchman”

…

What starts as a search for a missing husband soon develops into an unbelievable story of treachery, lies, and incredible riches.

…

It was meant to remain buried long enough for the dust to settle on what was once an unpalatable truth, when enough time had passed, and those who had been willing to wait could reap the rewards.

The problem was, no one knew where that treasure was hidden or the location of the logbook that held the secret.

At stake, billions of dollars’ worth of stolen Nazi loot brought to the United States in an anonymous tramp steamer and hidden in a specially constructed vault under a specifically owned plot of land on the once docklands of New York.

It may have remained hidden and unknown to only a few, if it had not been for a mere obscure detail being overheard …

… by our intrepid, newly minted private detective, Harry Walthenson …

… and it would have remained buried.

Now, through a series of unrelated events, or are they, that well-kept secret is out there, and Harry will not stop until the whole truth is uncovered.

Even if it almost costs him his life.  Again.

NANOWRIMO – November 2025 – Day 12

…

The Third Son of a Duke

…

We pass through Naples, go to visit a museum where Margaret, one of the group, manages to take our protagonist aside for a conversation, the passengers see Mt Vesuvius spewing a little smoke and ash as they enter the harbour, see a few warships, then move on to Toulon, where there are warships.

There’s a dance, and it seems everyone is accomplished to a degree, that old 18th-century notions that women can play the piano, dance at balls, and sit around doing needlepoint hang in the air as pre-requisites for a good wife.

Until the modern dances come out and change the atmosphere.  Am I trying too hard to transition the world into a different one, from old ideas to a new world?

There is a war hanging over everything as it is early 1914, and signs of it are everywhere.

Port Said, the entrance to the Suez Canal, and the start of the hot weather.  Going ashore is for getting hot-weather clothes.  Until they leave Colombo in Ceylon, it’s going to be hot and steamy, where staying in cabins overnight is going to be difficult, and passengers find their way to the decks to spend the night in the cool air.

It’s slow going down the Canal until they get to Suez to take on a pilot to navigate the Red Sea.  A few days before passing through the Gulf of Aden, this time not stopping in Aden for coal and onwards to Colombo.

I will throw in a dining engagement with the captain in first class, just to have some fun with the people out protagonist would usually be travelling with, but hates to be associated with. 

…

2110 words, for a total of 17490 words.

Writing about writing a book – Research

Day 23 – Psychological Warfare

The Summer of Love and the Psychology of War: Did Australia Train Its Soldiers to Hate?

The 1960s stand in stark historical contrast. On one hand, it was the era of the counter-culture, defined by the rallying cry of ‘peace and love.’ On the other hand, it was the brutal age of the Vietnam War, and for Australia, it was the era of conscription, where thousands of young men were pulled from their civilian lives and thrust into the machinery of combat.

This juxtaposition raises a profound question about the ethics and psychology of military training: If society preached peace, and conscripts were barely out of their teens, how did the Australian military prepare them psychologically for the act of killing?

The central, challenging question is this: Did the Australian government or the Defence Department leverage psychologists to devise systematic ways to deliberately instil a hatred of the enemy, making the ultimate act of combat—taking a life—easier?

The Barrier to Killing: Overcoming the Instinct for Peace

The belief that humans kill easily is a myth. Extensive psychological research, particularly notable work done by military historian Lieutenant Colonel Dave Grossman (author of On Killing), confirms that the vast majority of soldiers in historical conflicts actively resisted firing their weapons directly at the enemy.

The act of taking a human life runs counter to nearly all natural human social programming. For young Australian recruits in the 1960s—many drafted, living in a world listening to protest songs and demanding disarmament—this psychological barrier would have been immensely high.

The military’s challenge was not just to teach marksmanship, but to fundamentally rewire human moral and social instincts. This is where psychology, whether formally acknowledged or merely applied through rote training techniques, becomes crucial.

Hatred vs. Dehumanisation: The Military Psychology Playbook

While it’s difficult to find specific, declassified documents from the 1960s outlining “Operation Instil Hatred,” we know that modern military training across Western nations has long relied on psychological techniques to overcome combat inhibition.

The goal wasn’t always raw, emotional hatred—which can be unstable and distract the soldier—but rather efficient dehumanisation and conditioning.

1. Classical Conditioning and Repetition

The most immediate change soldiers faced was conditioning. Drill sergeants use relentless repetition, noise, and sleep deprivation to break down the civilian identity and replace it with a collective, obedient military identity.

In the 1960s, a major shift occurred in small-arms training. Rather than training soldiers to fire at static, circular targets, training transitioned to using human-shaped silhouettes that “fell down” when hit. This seemingly small change used operant conditioning to reward the action of shooting a human-like figure, dramatically reducing the psychological barrier to firing in actual combat. The enemy becomes a target, not a person.

2. The Power of Group Identity

Hatred for the enemy is often less effective than intense love and loyalty for the comrade. Training focuses on forging an unbreakable bond within the unit. When a soldier fires their weapon, they are often doing it less for political ideology and more to protect the person standing next to them.

Psychologists would certainly advise—or military training intuitively discovered—that fostering unit cohesion (the “us vs. them” mentality) is the strongest motivator in combat. The enemy is therefore characterised as the ultimate threat to the safety and survival of the cohesive unit.

3. The Absence of Individuality

In training environments, the enemy is rarely referred to by a human name or given complex motivations. Whether the enemy was a ‘Communist aggressor’ or simply the ‘digger’ standing opposite during a sparring match, they were stripped of individual humanity. This simplification makes the ethical boundary easier to cross.

It is highly likely that Australian Defence psychologists, or those advising the high command, recognised the necessity of these tactics. They may not have explicitly codified them under the banner of “instilling hatred,” but the practical application of military training achieves the same end: overcoming the inherent moral resistance to killing.

The Legacy of the Conscript

The young man of the 1960s, who went from listening to The Beatles to carrying an SLR rifle, was a product of intense psychological manipulation necessary for effective modern warfare.

If the Australian military used psychologists to find ways to make killing easier, they were not unique; they were simply engaging in the necessary, if ethically murky, requirements of running a modern fighting force. The goal was practical: to ensure that when facing life-or-death situations, the natural human urge to retreat or freeze was overridden by immediate, trained reaction.

The method was efficient; the result was often the same as if hatred had been explicitly taught. By dehumanising the objective (the ‘target’) and elevating the emotional bond with the unit (the ‘comrade’), the military ensured that the peace-and-love generation could, when duty called, pull the trigger.

The true legacy of this training lies with the veterans. For many, that psychological conditioning—designed to be effective and immediate—was incredibly difficult to undo upon returning home, contributing to the lifelong struggle of integrating the combat experience with the values of the society they were drafted to protect.

Writing a book in 365 days – 298/299

Days 298 and 299

Writing exercise – Using the most elaborate lie you have ever told, sell it to the reader

…

It was the sort of stuff spy novels had in abundance.

But it was my imagination, fueled by scores of those very same stories all rolled into one, that I used to explain why I was missing from school to classmates who thought I was the most boring and uninteresting person they had ever known.

I knew what they’d say, so I was going to take them on a journey, and in my childish mind, I was going to make it as believable as I could.

Of course, what a child imagines to be true and what actually is are two very different things.

But, like everything that ever happened to me, it didn’t start out as an opportunity to do the right thing; it was at the end of some very stinging barbs from Alistair Goodall, my tormentor and school bully.

…

I glared at him with all the hatred I could muster, which, considering he was a foot taller and about 50 pounds heavier than I, was really a waste of time.

He had just told everyone within hearing range that my absence had simply been because I was too scared to come to school, because he had threatened to beat me up.

It was true, but I wasn’t going to let that be my defining moment. Instead, I blurted out, “The whole family had to go into hiding because of things my father knew, and his life was in danger.”

Yes, we had gone away, but it was to another country, where my mother’s parents lived, and they had been killed in an accident. It was quite sudden; my mother and sister had gone first, and then my father and I followed. He had difficulty getting away, and it had been a last-minute decision.

He had to come back, and despite my pleas to leave me with my mother, he dragged me back, oblivious to the predicament I was in with Alistair Goodall.

Goodall looked at me incredulously at first, then with a smile. “Good try, squirt. You almost had me believing it. Your dad an informer? My dad’s a cop, so I’ll ask him, but we both know what he’s going to say.” He took a step closer. I braced for impact.

But then, realising I was digging a bigger hole, one that I might not get out of, “Your dad wouldn’t have a clue about witness protection. It wouldn’t be witness protection if everyone knew about it. This is stuff beyond his pay grade.”

I remembered a TV show I had seen while away, about witness protection, and how it was supposed to be secret, but the witness was sold out by the bad guy’s man in the police force.

“My dad’s very important,” he said, his voice raised an octave, a sure sign he was losing this war of words.

“Then if you went home and started asking questions about witnesses who are supposed to be in protection, then he would lose his job, or worse, go to jail for blabbing secrets.”

“Your blabbing secrets.”

“You’re threatening to beat me up if I don’t tell you where I’ve been. Just threatening me into telling you is gonna get you into a heap of trouble. I suggest you let it go, and we keep this between us. Or can’t you keep secrets?”

“I can too.”

The whine in his voice told me that I had bested him, but for how long was a moot question. He was not going to keep this a secret.

…

The school term ended in an uneasy truce between Alistair and me, and the whole school broke for the summer holidays. It meant I could escape Alistair’s persecution, at least for a few weeks, time enough for the rest of the family to return, and a semblance of normalcy to return.

I had just about put the great lie out of my mind when Alistair turned up outside my house with a smug smile. That idea of keeping secrets was not one of his strong points.

“You’re really for it, now, squirt. My dad knows nothing about this crap story of yours. In fact, he copped a serve at work, and he’s coming around to put the pair of you straight.”

Damn. Why could the miserable twisted arse just let it go?

“You wanna be anywhere but here when he gets here.”

He walked off laughing, thinking he’d bought me a whole new world of pain.

My father was home for a week, which was a shame, because he was never home, always busy, too busy to be bothered with any of us. It would have been better if he hadn’t, or my mother was here, which she was not, still delayed in her return.

I spent a good hour trying to think of how I was going to get out of this one, but whatever I did, there was no chance I was not going to get a beating for this. Goodall was a copper, and although my father said he was a bully and a terrible excuse for a local plod, as he called him, he was still the law. Previous infractions I had been accused of were all true, and it had got me into trouble and a warning; there had better not be a next time.

This was the next time, and it was a doozy.

There was only one path I could go down.

My father was in his study when I went to look for him. He was always working on something, with books and charts all over the desk. I never asked, and he never volunteered what his job was, but I would have to ask one day.

I knocked on the door and waited a minute or two before he asked me to come in.

“Did I hear you talking to someone before?”

“Alistair Goodall, bully son of the local copper. As bad as his father, he uses him as a shield. I’d complain about him, but you keep saying I have to man up. There’s no manning up against the likes of him.”

I had considered whinging about the kid, but I knew my father wouldn’t accept that as trying hard enough to find my own solution, and it was useless telling him there wasn’t one.

He looked at. “Your mother said you were being bullied. Why didn’t you come and see me?”

“You’re never home, and you reckon I have to sort it out myself. Bit hard when he’s taller and heavier than I am. And I don’t think you’d appreciate me hitting him with a baseball bat.”

“Drastic but effective, no doubt, but not worth the jail time. Why are you telling me this?”

He wanted to know why I was away recently. I couldn’t tell him; he threatened to beat me up, so I made up a lie. The truth was too lame for a moron like him.”

“What lie?”

I told him and watched the already dark features go a lot darker.

“And you expected he wouldn’t take it to his father for confirmation?”

“Plods don’t get told anything, of course, he wouldn’t know, and even if it was true, no one from up the chain would share that with a fool like Goodall. Even I know that much.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“Reading. I’ve read a lot of books, seen films and TV shows. I know a lot of it is make-believe, but there have to be elements of it that are true. The point is that I told Alistair that it was a secret and asked him to keep it. I mean, in real circumstances, we would be trusting him, which you would think from all the bluster that he could. If it had been a test, he failed spectacularly. As for his father, sure, he would understand the nature of witness protection and the necessity for secrecy, so blabbing it to his superiors was wrong on so many levels. I’m sure they would have said they knew nothing about it, even if they did.”

My father thought about that for a minute, perhaps looking to point out the flaws in the logic, but I couldn’t see any.

“I don’t like Goodall. Got on my wrong side when he first became a Sergeant. Too smug by half, and, as you say, a bully who uses his position. You were wrong to lie. Now, go upstairs. I’ll deal with Goodall.”

…

I was sitting behind the wall at the top of the stairs, waiting for Goodall to come. I wondered if he would bring the toad Alistair with him.

The pounding on the door almost made my heart stop. My father took his time to answer the door, and then, “Sergeant Goodall, what do we owe the honour of this visit?” It was the most pleasant tone I’d ever heard my father use, to anyone.

“Mr. Laramie…” Goodall senior only had one level of speaking, loud and confrontational.

“Sergeant Goodall, there are two things I expect from any visitor who comes to my door: that the visitor address me in a civil tone, and not make their cases on my doorstep. Now, if you give me your word you will be civil, I will invite you in.”

He must have nodded because I heard footsteps and the door closed. His office was on the ground floor, up the passage. I would be able to hear them if the door to the office wasn’t closed.

“Now, Sergeant Goodall, what exactly is the problem?”

“Your son is telling preposterous lies.”

“You son is a bully, and my son fears going to school because of him. I think you should be attending to your son’s proclivities rather tan worry about what my son says. Most kids his age speak utter gibberish at the best of times.”

A moments silence before, “It;s not the fact it;s lies its the nature of the lie.”

“Oh. The fact that we were away. Well, there’s something else you should be admonishing that wretch of a child of yours for. My son told him the truth. and gave him a warning that it was not to be put about, in fact, as I understand it, he told your son that it was to be kept secret, and because he believed your son, being the son of a respectable policeman who understands the nature of these sorts of secrets, could keep it. The fact that he couldn’t keep that simple secret disappointed my son, disappointed me, and disappointed the people who arranged our sojourn, while some very nasty people were put away. They are, at the very least, extremely disappointed that you were poking around in matters that were way above your pay grade. If my son comes home any time in the new year complaining about your son, I will forget about being magnanimous this one time, in the hope you can address the issues you have; if he comes home with a complaint, all bets are off. Do I make myself clear?”

“He was not lying?”

“He was trying to avoid being beaten up by a thug, Goodall. He trusted your boy, and he let him down badly. This matter should not be discussed, here or anywhere, and I expect by the time you pass through my front door, the matter of our sojourn will be forgotten, and the problem with your child will be on the way to being resolved. Now, if that’s all….”

A few seconds later, I heard Goodall being bundled out the door, and it closed firmly behind him.

…

My father took a risk, but it paid off.

By the end of the summer holidays, Goodall had moved on to another station and taken his wretched son with him.

Goodall wasn’t the only bully at that school, but I learned a new way to deal with them, one that didn’t include elaborate lies. Those I saved for the stories I started writing.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Vienna

Vienna Beyond the Waltz: 5 Off-Beat Gems You Can’t Miss

Vienna. Just the name conjures images of majestic palaces, grand opera, and perhaps a slice of perfectly decadent Sachertorte. It’s a city steeped in imperial history, a classic tourist destination, and rightly so.

But what if you’ve already seen Schönbrunn, wandered the Ringstrasse, and gazed upon The Kiss? What if you’re pulling into Vienna on a road trip, looking to veer off the well-trodden tourist path and discover something truly unique?

Welcome to the Vienna that locals cherish—the road less travelled. Here are five essential, yet unconventional, things to do in the Austrian capital that will enrich your trip and leave you feeling like a true insider.

1. Dive into the Depths at the Third Man Museum

For fans of Cold War intrigue and cinematic history.

Forget typical movie museums; the Third Man Museum (Dritte Mann Museum) is a passion project run by dedicated enthusiasts. Tucked away in the less flashy 4th district (Wieden), this spot is a tribute to the iconic 1949 film The Third Man, which captured post-war Vienna’s atmosphere perfectly.

You’ll find thousands of artifacts, from original film posters, props, and scripts, to rare footage and historical documents detailing the Allied occupation of the city. It’s slightly cluttered, intensely atmospheric, and wonderfully niche. It doesn’t just celebrate the film; it gives you a fascinating look at the real city it was shot in.

  • Insider Tip: Check the opening times carefully—they are usually only open on Saturdays!

2. Take a Dip (or a Stroll) Along the Old Danube (Alte Donau)

For escaping the urban hustle without leaving the city.

When the summer heat hits, Viennese locals head not to a crowded beach, but to the Alte Donau—the horseshoe-shaped former main stream of the Danube. This tranquil area is miles away from the tourist crush and offers a refreshing, almost lakeside atmosphere right in the heart of Vienna’s 22nd district.

You can rent a rowboat, a pedal boat, or even an electric boat and enjoy the quiet waters, surrounded by charming boathouses and lush green banks. There are also several public bathing areas (known as Strandbäder) perfect for a swim.

  • Why it’s off-beat: Most tourists only see the straightened, industrial New Danube. The Alte Donau provides a glimpse into Vienna’s softer, more recreational side.

3. Seek out Hundertwasser’s Quirky Architectural Utopia

For lovers of color, curves, and defying convention.

While many tourists flock to the famous Hundertwasserhaus (a quirky apartment block), the real secret lies in visiting the other projects of the visionary Austrian artist, Friedensreich Hundertwasser.

Head to the Kunst Haus Wien, which houses a permanent exhibition of his work and is a museum designed entirely in his organic, colorful style. Afterward, explore the nearby Müllverbrennungsanlage Spittelau (Spittelau Waste Incineration Plant). Yes, an incinerator. Hundertwasser converted this industrial structure into a dazzling, gold-topped, eco-friendly fairytale castle, proving that even infrastructure can be art.

  • The Road Less Traveled Angle: While the Hundertwasserhaus is always packed, exploring these other sites gives you a much deeper appreciation for his unique architectural philosophy.

4. Experience Wine Culture in the Vienna Woods (Wienerwald)

For unparalleled views and authentic Austrian wine (Heuriger).

Did you know Vienna is one of the world’s only major capital cities with significant vineyards located within the city limits?

Skip the central bars and drive (or take the tram) to one of the picturesque suburbs nestled against the Wienerwald (Vienna Woods), such as Grinzing or the lesser-known Neustift am Walde.

Here you’ll find traditional Heuriger—rustic taverns run by the winemakers themselves. They serve their young wine (often a delightful white Grüner Veltliner) alongside simple, delicious homemade buffets (Brettljausen). The atmosphere is relaxed, the view over the city often stunning, and the experience authentically Viennese.

  • When to Go: Visit in late summer or early autumn for the best harvest atmosphere.

5. Step Back in Time at the Central Cemetery (Zentralfriedhof)

For history, grandeur, and an eerily serene experience.

A cemetery might seem like a morbid suggestion, but Vienna’s Zentralfriedhof is a sprawling, peaceful, and historically important destination that few tourists bother visiting. It’s so vast (the second largest in Europe) it even has its own bus line!

It is a beautiful park, yes, but its true draw is the honor graves (Ehrengräber). Here you can pay respects to icons like Beethoven, Schubert, Strauss, Brahms, and Arnold Schoenberg. The architectural splendor of the Art Nouveau church (St. Charles Borromeo Cemetery Church) is also breathtaking.

  • Why it’s worth the detour: It’s a profound testament to Vienna’s cultural importance and a uniquely quiet place for reflection, far from the central crowds.

Vienna offers endless classical charm, but for the true explorer on a road trip, the city rewards those who look beyond the main squares. Park your car, put on your walking shoes, and discover the quirky, colorful, and wonderfully authentic side of Austria’s imperial heart.

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Madrid

Beyond the Postcards: 5 Unique Madrid Experiences on the Road Less Travelled

Madrid. The very name conjures images of grand boulevards, world-class art museums, and bustling tapas bars. And while the Prado, the Royal Palace, and Retiro Park are undeniably magnificent, there’s a whole other layer to Spain’s vibrant capital, waiting to be discovered by those willing to stray from the well-trodden path.

If you’re like me – a traveller who loves to peel back the layers and uncover the authentic pulse of a city – then pack your sense of adventure. Here are my top five “road less travelled” experiences that will show you Madrid most tourists never see.

1. Dive into the Multicultural Heart of Lavapiés & the Mercado de San Fernando

Forget the polished tourist markets; head straight to Lavapiés, one of Madrid’s most historic and multicultural neighbourhoods. This isn’t just about street art (though there’s plenty of incredible murals to discover); it’s about the aroma of spices, the sound of different languages, and the genuine buzz of local life.

Your main mission here? The Mercado de San Fernando. Unlike the famous Mercado de San Miguel, San Fernando is a working neighbourhood market that has embraced a new life while retaining its authentic charm. Here, you can buy “libros al peso” (books by weight), sample craft beers, indulge in delicious Ethiopian food, browse artisanal goods, or grab a traditional Spanish tapa alongside locals doing their daily shopping. It’s a sensory feast and a true microcosm of modern Madrid.

  • Why it’s special: Authentic, multicultural, affordable, and a peek into Madrid’s real daily life.
  • Don’t miss: The book stall, the craft beer vendors, and simply soaking in the atmosphere.

2. Catch Sunset (and a Panorama) at Parque de las Siete Tetas

Looking for the best panoramic view of Madrid, away from the tourist crowds? Ditch the rooftop bars and head to Parque del Cerro del Tío Pío, affectionately known by locals as “Parque de las Siete Tetas” (Park of the Seven Tits) due to its seven rolling hills.

Located in the Vallecas district (easily accessible by metro), this park offers an unparalleled, uninterrupted vista of the entire city skyline, with the majestic Sierra de Guadarrama mountains as a backdrop. Grab a picnic, a bottle of wine, and join Madrileños as they gather here to watch the sun dip below the horizon, painting the city in hues of orange and gold. It’s a truly magical and unpretentious experience.

  • Why it’s special: The best, most local sunset spot with breathtaking views.
  • Don’t miss: The golden hour – arrive 45 minutes before sunset for the full spectacle.

3. Step into a Tranquil Oasis at the Sorolla Museum

While the Prado and Reina Sofía are essential, escape the crowds at the beautiful Sorolla Museum, dedicated to the luminous works of Spanish impressionist Joaquín Sorolla. Housed in the artist’s former home and studio, this museum is a serene retreat.

Wander through light-filled rooms filled with his vibrant paintings, many depicting sun-drenched beaches and family life. But the real hidden gem here are the exquisite Andalusian-style gardens, designed by Sorolla himself. They offer a tranquil escape from the city bustle, making you feel as though you’ve stumbled into a private, sun-drenched oasis. It’s a personal and intimate experience with art and history.

  • Why it’s special: A stunning house-museum with beautiful art and serene gardens, far less crowded than the major museums.
  • Don’t miss: The gardens are as much a work of art as the paintings themselves.

4. Immerse Yourself in a Traditional Vermutería Experience

Forget the generic sangria; dive into a truly Madrileño tradition: the vermutería. While tapas bars are everywhere, a dedicated vermutería offers a unique glimpse into a cherished cultural ritual. Vermouth, often served on tap (vermut de grifo), is a fortified wine infused with botanicals, and it’s experiencing a massive revival.

Seek out a classic spot like Casa Camacho in Malasaña or Bodega de la Ardosa (also in Malasaña, though it’s more broadly a classic tavern). Order a “vermút de grifo” (vermouth on tap), often served with an olive and a slice of orange. Pair it with their specific, often pickle-laden, tapas. It’s a delicious, slightly bitter, and utterly authentic way to start your evening, surrounded by locals engaging in lively conversation.

  • Why it’s special: A distinct Madrid tradition, away from tourist traps, with a unique drink and specific food pairings.
  • Don’t miss: Trying a “yayo” at Casa Camacho – a local concoction of vermouth, soda, and gin.

5. Explore the Opulent World of the Museo Cerralbo

For a glimpse into the extravagant life of a 19th-century Spanish aristocrat, the Museo Cerralbo is an absolute treasure, yet surprisingly overlooked by many guidebooks. The Marqués de Cerralbo, a passionate collector, bequeathed his entire palace and its vast contents to the state.

Walking through its ornately decorated rooms, you’ll find an astonishing collection of art, weaponry, ancient artifacts, and opulent furnishings, all preserved as if the family just stepped out for the afternoon. It’s a time capsule that offers a fascinating contrast to the often more institutional feel of other museums, providing an intimate look at the aesthetics and lifestyle of Madrid’s elite.

  • Why it’s special: A beautifully preserved opulent palace and private collection, offering a unique historical perspective.
  • Don’t miss: The stunning grand staircase and the ballroom – imagine the parties that took place here!

Madrid is a city of endless discoveries, and sometimes the most memorable experiences are found when you venture just a little bit off the well-worn path. So, ditch the guidebook for an afternoon, follow your curiosity, and let Madrid truly reveal itself to you.

What are your favourite hidden gems in Madrid? Share them in the comments below!

Writing a book in 365 days – 298/299

Days 298 and 299

Writing exercise – Using the most elaborate lie you have ever told, sell it to the reader

…

It was the sort of stuff spy novels had in abundance.

But it was my imagination, fueled by scores of those very same stories all rolled into one, that I used to explain why I was missing from school to classmates who thought I was the most boring and uninteresting person they had ever known.

I knew what they’d say, so I was going to take them on a journey, and in my childish mind, I was going to make it as believable as I could.

Of course, what a child imagines to be true and what actually is are two very different things.

But, like everything that ever happened to me, it didn’t start out as an opportunity to do the right thing; it was at the end of some very stinging barbs from Alistair Goodall, my tormentor and school bully.

…

I glared at him with all the hatred I could muster, which, considering he was a foot taller and about 50 pounds heavier than I, was really a waste of time.

He had just told everyone within hearing range that my absence had simply been because I was too scared to come to school, because he had threatened to beat me up.

It was true, but I wasn’t going to let that be my defining moment. Instead, I blurted out, “The whole family had to go into hiding because of things my father knew, and his life was in danger.”

Yes, we had gone away, but it was to another country, where my mother’s parents lived, and they had been killed in an accident. It was quite sudden; my mother and sister had gone first, and then my father and I followed. He had difficulty getting away, and it had been a last-minute decision.

He had to come back, and despite my pleas to leave me with my mother, he dragged me back, oblivious to the predicament I was in with Alistair Goodall.

Goodall looked at me incredulously at first, then with a smile. “Good try, squirt. You almost had me believing it. Your dad an informer? My dad’s a cop, so I’ll ask him, but we both know what he’s going to say.” He took a step closer. I braced for impact.

But then, realising I was digging a bigger hole, one that I might not get out of, “Your dad wouldn’t have a clue about witness protection. It wouldn’t be witness protection if everyone knew about it. This is stuff beyond his pay grade.”

I remembered a TV show I had seen while away, about witness protection, and how it was supposed to be secret, but the witness was sold out by the bad guy’s man in the police force.

“My dad’s very important,” he said, his voice raised an octave, a sure sign he was losing this war of words.

“Then if you went home and started asking questions about witnesses who are supposed to be in protection, then he would lose his job, or worse, go to jail for blabbing secrets.”

“Your blabbing secrets.”

“You’re threatening to beat me up if I don’t tell you where I’ve been. Just threatening me into telling you is gonna get you into a heap of trouble. I suggest you let it go, and we keep this between us. Or can’t you keep secrets?”

“I can too.”

The whine in his voice told me that I had bested him, but for how long was a moot question. He was not going to keep this a secret.

…

The school term ended in an uneasy truce between Alistair and me, and the whole school broke for the summer holidays. It meant I could escape Alistair’s persecution, at least for a few weeks, time enough for the rest of the family to return, and a semblance of normalcy to return.

I had just about put the great lie out of my mind when Alistair turned up outside my house with a smug smile. That idea of keeping secrets was not one of his strong points.

“You’re really for it, now, squirt. My dad knows nothing about this crap story of yours. In fact, he copped a serve at work, and he’s coming around to put the pair of you straight.”

Damn. Why could the miserable twisted arse just let it go?

“You wanna be anywhere but here when he gets here.”

He walked off laughing, thinking he’d bought me a whole new world of pain.

My father was home for a week, which was a shame, because he was never home, always busy, too busy to be bothered with any of us. It would have been better if he hadn’t, or my mother was here, which she was not, still delayed in her return.

I spent a good hour trying to think of how I was going to get out of this one, but whatever I did, there was no chance I was not going to get a beating for this. Goodall was a copper, and although my father said he was a bully and a terrible excuse for a local plod, as he called him, he was still the law. Previous infractions I had been accused of were all true, and it had got me into trouble and a warning; there had better not be a next time.

This was the next time, and it was a doozy.

There was only one path I could go down.

My father was in his study when I went to look for him. He was always working on something, with books and charts all over the desk. I never asked, and he never volunteered what his job was, but I would have to ask one day.

I knocked on the door and waited a minute or two before he asked me to come in.

“Did I hear you talking to someone before?”

“Alistair Goodall, bully son of the local copper. As bad as his father, he uses him as a shield. I’d complain about him, but you keep saying I have to man up. There’s no manning up against the likes of him.”

I had considered whinging about the kid, but I knew my father wouldn’t accept that as trying hard enough to find my own solution, and it was useless telling him there wasn’t one.

He looked at. “Your mother said you were being bullied. Why didn’t you come and see me?”

“You’re never home, and you reckon I have to sort it out myself. Bit hard when he’s taller and heavier than I am. And I don’t think you’d appreciate me hitting him with a baseball bat.”

“Drastic but effective, no doubt, but not worth the jail time. Why are you telling me this?”

He wanted to know why I was away recently. I couldn’t tell him; he threatened to beat me up, so I made up a lie. The truth was too lame for a moron like him.”

“What lie?”

I told him and watched the already dark features go a lot darker.

“And you expected he wouldn’t take it to his father for confirmation?”

“Plods don’t get told anything, of course, he wouldn’t know, and even if it was true, no one from up the chain would share that with a fool like Goodall. Even I know that much.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“Reading. I’ve read a lot of books, seen films and TV shows. I know a lot of it is make-believe, but there have to be elements of it that are true. The point is that I told Alistair that it was a secret and asked him to keep it. I mean, in real circumstances, we would be trusting him, which you would think from all the bluster that he could. If it had been a test, he failed spectacularly. As for his father, sure, he would understand the nature of witness protection and the necessity for secrecy, so blabbing it to his superiors was wrong on so many levels. I’m sure they would have said they knew nothing about it, even if they did.”

My father thought about that for a minute, perhaps looking to point out the flaws in the logic, but I couldn’t see any.

“I don’t like Goodall. Got on my wrong side when he first became a Sergeant. Too smug by half, and, as you say, a bully who uses his position. You were wrong to lie. Now, go upstairs. I’ll deal with Goodall.”

…

I was sitting behind the wall at the top of the stairs, waiting for Goodall to come. I wondered if he would bring the toad Alistair with him.

The pounding on the door almost made my heart stop. My father took his time to answer the door, and then, “Sergeant Goodall, what do we owe the honour of this visit?” It was the most pleasant tone I’d ever heard my father use, to anyone.

“Mr. Laramie…” Goodall senior only had one level of speaking, loud and confrontational.

“Sergeant Goodall, there are two things I expect from any visitor who comes to my door: that the visitor address me in a civil tone, and not make their cases on my doorstep. Now, if you give me your word you will be civil, I will invite you in.”

He must have nodded because I heard footsteps and the door closed. His office was on the ground floor, up the passage. I would be able to hear them if the door to the office wasn’t closed.

“Now, Sergeant Goodall, what exactly is the problem?”

“Your son is telling preposterous lies.”

“You son is a bully, and my son fears going to school because of him. I think you should be attending to your son’s proclivities rather tan worry about what my son says. Most kids his age speak utter gibberish at the best of times.”

A moments silence before, “It;s not the fact it;s lies its the nature of the lie.”

“Oh. The fact that we were away. Well, there’s something else you should be admonishing that wretch of a child of yours for. My son told him the truth. and gave him a warning that it was not to be put about, in fact, as I understand it, he told your son that it was to be kept secret, and because he believed your son, being the son of a respectable policeman who understands the nature of these sorts of secrets, could keep it. The fact that he couldn’t keep that simple secret disappointed my son, disappointed me, and disappointed the people who arranged our sojourn, while some very nasty people were put away. They are, at the very least, extremely disappointed that you were poking around in matters that were way above your pay grade. If my son comes home any time in the new year complaining about your son, I will forget about being magnanimous this one time, in the hope you can address the issues you have; if he comes home with a complaint, all bets are off. Do I make myself clear?”

“He was not lying?”

“He was trying to avoid being beaten up by a thug, Goodall. He trusted your boy, and he let him down badly. This matter should not be discussed, here or anywhere, and I expect by the time you pass through my front door, the matter of our sojourn will be forgotten, and the problem with your child will be on the way to being resolved. Now, if that’s all….”

A few seconds later, I heard Goodall being bundled out the door, and it closed firmly behind him.

…

My father took a risk, but it paid off.

By the end of the summer holidays, Goodall had moved on to another station and taken his wretched son with him.

Goodall wasn’t the only bully at that school, but I learned a new way to deal with them, one that didn’t include elaborate lies. Those I saved for the stories I started writing.

…

©  Charles Heath  2025

NANOWRIMO – November 2025 – Day 11

…

The Third Son of a Duke

…

So we are getting the back stories for a few of the passengers, a group forms, of which our protagonists are part of; my grandmother is there, but only as a floating member. I have given her a role that gels with the protagonist as a friend, though more aloof than the others.  As the son of a Duke, and therefore of aristocratic bearing, he and my grandmother will act as chaperones for the other girls who attach themselves to the group that gathers in the lounge.

He will prefer her as a companion while the likes of Louise tend to make a more romantic impact.  But, as one might expect of the time, he is uncertain of his arrangement with the arranged marriage, so he cannot commit to anything other than a respectable friendship, which he makes quite plain from the outset.

He is not looking for romance.  Others might be.

I also have a look at the reasons why so many disaffected young women are leaving England for a new life in Australia, far from the poverty, and worse, class distinction, the lack of opportunities for women, and the lack of acceptable husbands, not that they are looking.  There are also aspects of societal expectation that a woman doesn’t work and is meant to have children and look after their husbands.

This is a period where the unwritten rule of what society believes is a woman’s place in society is taking a beating, and women want more from their lives.  After all, suffragettes are fighting for electoral equality; at least in Australia, these girls will have a vote. 

…

1455 words, for a total of 16835 words.

Writing a book in 365 days – My Story 45

More about my story – What about a sequel?

…

Beyond ‘The End’: When Your First Novel Whispers ‘Sequel!’

They say everyone has one novel in them. That singular, definitive story waiting to be told. And if you’re deep in the trenches of writing that very first book – or perhaps just emerging, blinking, from the final draft – you know the magnitude of that achievement. It’s a mountain climbed, a world birthed, a dream realised.

But what if, as you type those triumphant final words, your story doesn’t feel quite… finished? What if your characters still have unresolved arcs, your world still hums with unexplored corners, and a new conflict is already brewing on the distant horizon?

This is the siren call of the sequel, the whisper of a series, beckoning you beyond “The End.” And the question isn’t if it will happen, but how you decide when your definitive first novel should become the definitive first step in a much larger journey.

The Organic Unfurling: When Ideas Spark Early

Sometimes, the seed of a series is planted before you even write chapter one. You might be world-building, and realise your magic system is too complex for a single adventure. Or you create a cast of characters so rich, you know their individual journeys can’t possibly culminate in one book.

This is the beauty of organic discovery. As you plot, you might hit a snag and realise a subplot isn’t fitting, but it would make a fantastic central conflict for a future story. Or you leave a minor mystery unsolved, not out of oversight, but with the deliberate thought: “That’s for book two.”

Key signs it might be more than a standalone (even early on):

  • Vast World-Building: Your setting feels like a continent, not just a town. There are untouched cultures, unvisited lands, or deep historical layers begging exploration.
  • Complex Character Arcs: Your protagonist’s journey is profound, but you can see clear paths for growth beyond this initial conflict. Or a compelling secondary character deserves their own spotlight.
  • Lingering Questions/Plot Threads: You’ve wrapped up the central conflict of Book 1, but there are larger societal issues, ancient prophecies, or personal vendettas that naturally spill over.

The Post-Draft Revelation: When Your Story Demands More

Often, the realization hits after you’ve finished the first draft – or even after a round of revisions. You might be reading through, feeling proud, and suddenly a new idea sparks. “What if X happened next?” “How would Y react to Z now?”

This is a beautiful moment, because it means you’ve built something robust enough to inspire more. Your subconscious is telling you there’s still creative gold in that particular mine.

How to approach this post-draft revelation:

  1. Does Book 1 Stand Alone? This is crucial. A “definitive first novel” must feel complete in itself. The central conflict should be resolved, and the protagonist should have achieved a significant milestone. Don’t write a cliffhanger just because you might write a sequel. Future books should deepen the experience, not fix the first one.
  2. Brainstorm the Arc: Dedicate a session (or several) to mapping out potential sequels. What’s the new central conflict? How have your characters changed? What new challenges do they face? This isn’t about writing, just exploring.
  3. Check for Crossover Appeal: Does the core premise of your first novel have enough appeal to sustain multiple stories? Are there fresh angles to explore, or would you merely be repeating yourself?
  4. Listen to Your Gut: Does the thought of continuing fill you with excitement or dread? While writing is always hard work, the initial spark for a series should feel invigorating.

Why Stop at One? The Power of “More”

The adage “everyone has one novel in them” is true. But the idea that you should only write one is a self-imposed limitation. If your imagination is already conjuring new adventures in the same world, if your characters are clamouring for more development, why stifle that creative energy?

A series allows for:

  • Deeper World Exploration: To truly immerse readers in a rich, complex world.
  • Rich Character Development: To show growth, setbacks, and evolving relationships over a longer timeline.
  • Unfolding Grand Narratives: To tackle epic conflicts or explore complex themes that simply can’t be contained in a single volume.

So, as you nurture that definitive first novel, remember to keep an ear open. Does your story hum with untold tales? Do your characters beckon you towards new horizons? If so, embrace the possibility. Your definitive first novel might just be the definitive first step into a much larger, more thrilling literary journey. Why write one when you have a whole universe waiting to unfurl?

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Madrid

Beyond the Postcards: 5 Unique Madrid Experiences on the Road Less Travelled

Madrid. The very name conjures images of grand boulevards, world-class art museums, and bustling tapas bars. And while the Prado, the Royal Palace, and Retiro Park are undeniably magnificent, there’s a whole other layer to Spain’s vibrant capital, waiting to be discovered by those willing to stray from the well-trodden path.

If you’re like me – a traveller who loves to peel back the layers and uncover the authentic pulse of a city – then pack your sense of adventure. Here are my top five “road less travelled” experiences that will show you Madrid most tourists never see.

1. Dive into the Multicultural Heart of Lavapiés & the Mercado de San Fernando

Forget the polished tourist markets; head straight to Lavapiés, one of Madrid’s most historic and multicultural neighbourhoods. This isn’t just about street art (though there’s plenty of incredible murals to discover); it’s about the aroma of spices, the sound of different languages, and the genuine buzz of local life.

Your main mission here? The Mercado de San Fernando. Unlike the famous Mercado de San Miguel, San Fernando is a working neighbourhood market that has embraced a new life while retaining its authentic charm. Here, you can buy “libros al peso” (books by weight), sample craft beers, indulge in delicious Ethiopian food, browse artisanal goods, or grab a traditional Spanish tapa alongside locals doing their daily shopping. It’s a sensory feast and a true microcosm of modern Madrid.

  • Why it’s special: Authentic, multicultural, affordable, and a peek into Madrid’s real daily life.
  • Don’t miss: The book stall, the craft beer vendors, and simply soaking in the atmosphere.

2. Catch Sunset (and a Panorama) at Parque de las Siete Tetas

Looking for the best panoramic view of Madrid, away from the tourist crowds? Ditch the rooftop bars and head to Parque del Cerro del Tío Pío, affectionately known by locals as “Parque de las Siete Tetas” (Park of the Seven Tits) due to its seven rolling hills.

Located in the Vallecas district (easily accessible by metro), this park offers an unparalleled, uninterrupted vista of the entire city skyline, with the majestic Sierra de Guadarrama mountains as a backdrop. Grab a picnic, a bottle of wine, and join Madrileños as they gather here to watch the sun dip below the horizon, painting the city in hues of orange and gold. It’s a truly magical and unpretentious experience.

  • Why it’s special: The best, most local sunset spot with breathtaking views.
  • Don’t miss: The golden hour – arrive 45 minutes before sunset for the full spectacle.

3. Step into a Tranquil Oasis at the Sorolla Museum

While the Prado and Reina Sofía are essential, escape the crowds at the beautiful Sorolla Museum, dedicated to the luminous works of Spanish impressionist Joaquín Sorolla. Housed in the artist’s former home and studio, this museum is a serene retreat.

Wander through light-filled rooms filled with his vibrant paintings, many depicting sun-drenched beaches and family life. But the real hidden gem here are the exquisite Andalusian-style gardens, designed by Sorolla himself. They offer a tranquil escape from the city bustle, making you feel as though you’ve stumbled into a private, sun-drenched oasis. It’s a personal and intimate experience with art and history.

  • Why it’s special: A stunning house-museum with beautiful art and serene gardens, far less crowded than the major museums.
  • Don’t miss: The gardens are as much a work of art as the paintings themselves.

4. Immerse Yourself in a Traditional Vermutería Experience

Forget the generic sangria; dive into a truly Madrileño tradition: the vermutería. While tapas bars are everywhere, a dedicated vermutería offers a unique glimpse into a cherished cultural ritual. Vermouth, often served on tap (vermut de grifo), is a fortified wine infused with botanicals, and it’s experiencing a massive revival.

Seek out a classic spot like Casa Camacho in Malasaña or Bodega de la Ardosa (also in Malasaña, though it’s more broadly a classic tavern). Order a “vermút de grifo” (vermouth on tap), often served with an olive and a slice of orange. Pair it with their specific, often pickle-laden, tapas. It’s a delicious, slightly bitter, and utterly authentic way to start your evening, surrounded by locals engaging in lively conversation.

  • Why it’s special: A distinct Madrid tradition, away from tourist traps, with a unique drink and specific food pairings.
  • Don’t miss: Trying a “yayo” at Casa Camacho – a local concoction of vermouth, soda, and gin.

5. Explore the Opulent World of the Museo Cerralbo

For a glimpse into the extravagant life of a 19th-century Spanish aristocrat, the Museo Cerralbo is an absolute treasure, yet surprisingly overlooked by many guidebooks. The Marqués de Cerralbo, a passionate collector, bequeathed his entire palace and its vast contents to the state.

Walking through its ornately decorated rooms, you’ll find an astonishing collection of art, weaponry, ancient artifacts, and opulent furnishings, all preserved as if the family just stepped out for the afternoon. It’s a time capsule that offers a fascinating contrast to the often more institutional feel of other museums, providing an intimate look at the aesthetics and lifestyle of Madrid’s elite.

  • Why it’s special: A beautifully preserved opulent palace and private collection, offering a unique historical perspective.
  • Don’t miss: The stunning grand staircase and the ballroom – imagine the parties that took place here!

Madrid is a city of endless discoveries, and sometimes the most memorable experiences are found when you venture just a little bit off the well-worn path. So, ditch the guidebook for an afternoon, follow your curiosity, and let Madrid truly reveal itself to you.

What are your favourite hidden gems in Madrid? Share them in the comments below!