Saturday, 16 March 2013

Lars... the Viking...

a story. 

Well what's a girl got to do on a cold, blowy and wet Saturday morning?
Feed the inner fires of unrequited love.

Picture the scene...

For a special birthday, man said to wife
'Where would you like to go for your birthday treat?'
Never one to pass up on a jolly, she replied with a polar bear's
frosty breath...
'The Arctic!'
Facetiously adding
'Before it melts!'
Little knowing at the time, how true that turned out to be.

On arrival in Oslo
man said to wife
'Whatever you do don't look at the prices!'
Well what a stoopid thing to say.
'How much?'
reverberated around the archipelago.

Three nights in Oslo, then fly off north to Svalbard.
On the first night, settling cosily into the leather sofa,
they awaited their first round of drinks; served by the old retainer
Gunnar, who had worked there man and boy, since the
Vikings decided to take a cruise around the world.


Across the bar, their eyes met: 
 a tall Viking with corn-coloured blonde hair
and whiskers, clad in black.
The only splash of colour was the

emblazoned on his manly chest.

His lips medallion; the size and weight of a hurling stone hung on 
a mayoral silver chain, the thickness of a babies arm.

The scene took on a
misty, viewed through a soft focus lens...
I want to have your babies sort of feel.

The vision of Viking manliness, lazily strummed his guitar.

Eyes locked across an empty room; over he strolled looking 
for all the world like he'd stepped out of a spaghetti western.

His opening words
'I'm heart-broken!'

Trying hard not to dribble and with every fibre of her being,
she resisted the temptation to clap him to her matronly bosom.

Gunnar arriving with drinks looked a trifle miffed.

The conversation ebbed and flowed taking on a surreal quality.

Leaving the hotel to go out for dinner,
man escorted wife on shaky legs.


'There's something not quite right?'
 said man with thirty one years of police intuition.

Sour grapes... unkindly thought wife.

After breakfast the following morning,
Lars was seen saying goodbye to departing party guests.
He was in the suite, next to their room.
Hanging on the door looking god-like in beautiful silk kimono he apologised
'Sorry, if we made a noise last night!'
'You were the reason I couldn't sleep!'
she replied, not for one moment letting on 
it wasn't the noise that had kept her awake.

Gunnar that evening became far more animated
when asked by man, obviously at wife's insistence, 
that he discover the story of the mystery Viking god.
'Taken away this morning, by the police; he had absconded from 
his usual five star abode...
a secure hospital!'

She's ashamed to say the trip of a lifetime...
the twenty three polar bears some with cubs, 
the whales and walrus, the glaciers
all pale into insignificance, when the
Northern lights light up her eyes with the memory
Lars the Viking!


  1. What a wonderful story Linda, a one to tell the grandchildren. Nice to revisit and smile to yourself.....

    1. Smile to myself... you must be joking Jayne... by now the the family and the world know about Lars. What isn't there to love I ask you?

  2. Replies
    1. Hot..... standing on ice, I made holes enough for an Eskimo to fish.


  3. Wow! Of all the wildlife you can name, men fascinate me the most too.

    1. You and me both Nilly... You're never too old I say, as I plant whiskery kisses on passing young men.