Thomas Lindblad
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It took a while before I felt at home in the largest and most prestigious college in Oxford. This had nothing to do with the magnificent architecture of the grand sixteenth-century buildings at the spacious courtyard Tom Quad. I had to get used to many things. The language, scores of English customs and unwritten rules, and not least important, the very fact that I was no more the obvious center of attention as I had been at Stora Skena and in Västerås. There were more boys of high nobility at C
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Tremendous story! One of your most faithful readers recommended it to me long after it had been published on this website. I read it breathlessly, virtually imagining I was inside Killian's mind. Magnificent plot and very well written. Highly inspiring for my own efforts to write fiction. Thank you so much.
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The situation in Sweden was gloomy as we rang in the year 1809. Because of the defeat at Oravais and the suspension of hostilities at Olkijoki, the last Swedish soldiers had left Finnish soil before the turn of the year. Only one single person, King Gustaf IV Adolf, still believed Finland could be reconquered. ‘Mark my word,’ Father spoke to me, ‘things are going to change in Sweden. What exactly I don’t know, but I do know something is about to happen.’ My father had retained good contacts
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Of butterflies and velvet
Thomas Lindblad commented on Thomas Lindblad's story chapter in Of butterflies and velvet
Very well said! -
In the year I turned sixteen, I was deemed ready to attend grammar school in Västerås. My departure was moved forward because my private tutor Efraim suddenly resigned in January. I am not sure if that had something to do with rumours about him hanging around late at night at the lake near Morskoga krog. Nils thought his dubious reputation had reached my father. Prior to departure, there was one important request on my part for Father. ‘Please let Nils join me in Västerås,’ I urged him.
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Explorers far from home
Thomas Lindblad commented on Thomas Lindblad's story chapter in Explorers far from home
Thanks for these nice references to Swedish culture! I did not know there was an actual person called Valdemar Tofte; I just made it up. My source of inspiration for Toftegave was Harrenhal in A Game of Thrones. The inspiration for Stora Skena is less precise but Ängsö castle near Västerås comes close. Always puzzled by the fact that the name of the industrial town Västerås in Sweden resurfaces as the continent Westeros in A Game of Thrones. The discovery of sin is likely to continue! -
On the day I turned fifteen, Father surprised me with a new plan. ‘Göran,’ he said with a broad smile, ‘you’re a big boy now. You’ll make a long trip this summer.’ He was right. I had become another couple of centimeters taller but remained skinny. ‘You will join Birger and travel to Toftegave for summer holidays,’ he continued. That was the illustrious estate in the western province of Värmland, where the Old Countess and Birger hailed from. I had often heard exciting tales about it. In hi
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Good to hear my story evokes personal reminiscences!
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This year I would turn fourteen, the age when people in our faith usually get confirmation. You are officially admitted as a full member of the Church and for the first time permitted to take part in the Holy Communion. Father had already at an early stage signed me up for a confirmation camp in Ramsberg in the summer. Strictly speaking, I could easily ride Rex the ten kilometers back and forth to the church, but tradition prescribed that you reach this milestone in life together with people of
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It happened completely unexpected. For half an hour I had been riding Apollo in calm circles in the forest, the large white stallion I had not ridden before. The tall trees shielded the sunlight, little birds were twittering above our heads, at a distance I discerned Father’s back on his dark mare. ‘I’m getting the hang of it,’ I said loudly and urged Apollo to speed up. From the forest we reached an open meadow. Then it happened. Apollo reared up with his forelegs and hoofs high in the sk
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This is a story in the genre of historical fiction. The protagonist is a fictitious Swedish Count living in the early nineteenth century. He is the heir to a large estate in mid-Sweden, pursues formal studies abroad and has contacts with the royal family. His sexual orientation remains an issue throughout his life. This story offers an insight into love relations and friendships at the time. Some actual historical persons figure in the plot in a fictionalized version.
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The Holiday: travelling & arriving
Thomas Lindblad commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in The Holiday: travelling & arriving
Very nice getting back to this unconventional family Curious about howmw things will work out i the large bedroom! -
General elections were held on the last Wednesday of November. Hans was the only one in their unit with a television in his room. He invited Åke and Johny to come and watch the polls together with him and Marcel. They only had to bring their own beer and snacks. After evening news, they settled down in front of the TV, Åke and Johny sitting on the bed, Hans and Marcel on large cushions on the floor. As the smell of pot mixed with the fragrance of incense, they witnessed a turning-point in Dutch
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With two exuberant guests over coffee in late morning, Åke’s room immediately seemed overcrowded. Henning was ceremoniously yawning at the desk with his legs wide apart, Malte lay stretched out on the bed. Åke had met them at the station and brought them to a budget hotel near Leiden Square in the city center. Their room was not yet available so they came along to Kattenburg. They were willing to undertake a twenty-four-hour train journey to visit him for a long weekend. He had gratefully devise
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While still half asleep, Åke heard Hans, no early riser, banging on three doors after one another. His door was the last one and he immediately got out of bed, put on yesterday’s clothes, and got hold of his backpack. Minutes later they were cycling with the four of them along the water to the central station. Hans, Marcel, Åke and Johny – an improbable combination of housemates intent upon winding down on a resort island for a couple of days. As all students at Dutch universities, they enjoyed
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Already at an early stage of his stay in the Netherlands, Åke had paid a visit to Matthijs in Leiden. He was just as heartily received by Matthijs’s parents as one and a half year ago. Doctor Tiggelaar was still in the running for a professorial chair and his wife was ready for a nice cup of coffee at all times. Matthijs had suggested Åke could spend the night in Leiden, but there was no urgent necessity to do so. The journey by train to Amsterdam took only thirty-five minutes and Åke’s bike sto
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Åke was unexpectedly soon back in the Netherlands. He arrived in Amsterdam in late August, exhausted from twenty-four hours in the train from Västerås. Matthijs waited for him at the station, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. They had not met since Thanksgiving last year, when Matthijs had visited him at Colby College. One obvious reason was that Matthijs had not returned to Dartmouth after Christmas but decided to resume his studies at Leiden University. Åke, on the other hand, had remain
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Precisely what I had in mind and you express it very succinctly. Readers will soon see what happens next to Åke. Thee are still some chapters to go.
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Åke felt completely at home in Kevin’s Chrysler Valiant. His Icelandic sweater lay in the back seat, cans of cola and chips littered the space between the two front seats. Massachusetts flew by, on to New Jersey Turnpike, straight through Delaware and Maryland. The first leg of their journey ended with a hamburger dinner at the outskirts of Baltimore. Christmas holidays lay ahead. Åke’s father had not objected when Åke said he wanted to stay over Christmas and do some travelling in the Uni
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Visitor in trouble
Thomas Lindblad commented on Thomas Lindblad's story chapter in Visitor in trouble
You really get into the heads and hearts of my three personages! That gives me much pleasure. -
November brought cool evenings and occasional showers. Åke was getting used to the new routines in his daily life that came with his friendship with Kevin. In the morning, he stayed in bed until Kevin came to wake him up. He played chess with Kevin more often than he had done with Henning and Malte at the time in secondary school. He escaped from the company of other housemates by making weekend trips with Kevin’s Chrysler Valiant, which in addition brought welcome opportunities to practise driv
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Rory & Slav’s end of term
Thomas Lindblad commented on Robert Hugill's story chapter in Rory & Slav’s end of term
I too have been enjoying it tremendusly, just recently catching up and presently very much looking forward to the following chapters. One small detail though. Slav's use of third person instead of first person is a clever device to show he is in the process of learning the language. Still, there are languages when such usage is standard, for instance Indonesian. I especailly like how Gavin and Jason are becoming distinct, predictable personalities. The easily awkward sharing of intimate information between Matthew and Rory is very nice too. Thanks for giving us this story! -
The door of his room flew open. Kevin came rushing inside. ‘Wow, he’s got a lead!’ Åke rubbed his sleepy eyes and took in his visitor. Kevin as wearing his usual faded jeans and an equally faded T-shirt. He was an early riser and had made a habit of awakening Åke so that they could play a quick game of chess before classes. ‘3 ½ against 2 ½ and three games to go,’ Kevin spoke breathlessly. He was obviously referring to the final match between Bobby Fischer and Tigran Petrosian in
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It was a long journey. Two hours in southern direction over the empty Interstate 95, passing Brunswick with the rival Bowdoin College, past Portland, the only city of reasonable size in Maine. At the border with New Hampshire on to a calm provincial road in northwestern direction. By that time, Åke was only halfway. The forests of New England glittered with bright autumn colours, a spectacle witnessed by the driver and a handful of passengers. Åke looked out of the window and took time for
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Åke was excited when embarking on his long journey. His father brought him by car to Gothenburg. Subsequently, there were brief stops at Oslo and the airfield Keflavik on Iceland before touching down at New York. He only got a bit worried when he had a hard time figuring out the announcements by the stewardess during the final leg from JFK to Portland, Maine. If he was to endure a whole academic year in the States, he must be able to understand what people were staying, he rightly concluded. He
