No going back - 26. Oslo bound

"Fuck. They're really 1000 years old. Just look at that woodwork." Colin stood rooted to the spot, staring at the three Viking ships. We had made it; we had finally reached the Viking Ship Museum as part of our weekend in Oslo. It hadn’t been our first stop on the holiday, quite; we had arrived the previous day and already explored a bit. But there had been times when it felt as if the trip might never happen.

What with the house, my relapse and Colin's concert with the choir, it had seemed that our weekend away in Oslo was going to have to go on hold. But Jimmie and Bruno, bless them, had positively nagged Colin and insisted that they could cope with Colin away for a few days, and Bruno had even produced a work-plan on a spreadsheet. It was a joint effort, much of the technical input was from the far more experienced Jimmie, but Bruno seemed to have a notion for planning. To Colin, it had been a revelation and though he kept an eye on his phone, there was barely a peep from them except for an end of day text bringing him up to date.

It hadn't been all plain sailing. We'd had a fight about flights. There was a Ryanair flight to Oslo from Manchester which cost little and left at silly o'clock. I had refused to consider it whilst Colin couldn't or wouldn't pay the far higher amount for a Scandinavian Airlines flight that left at a more reasonable hour. The disagreement threatened to derail not only our planned weekend but also our relationship. It had shocked me and surprised me, and I'd not really known what to do about it. Except that I'd have to do something. Mhairi had been blunt. I would have to swallow my principles or whatever and offer to go Ryanair.

So, it was my turn to turn up at Colin's house with a peace offering - a bottle of nice wine. The van was there, so I hoped he was in. He was, his hair wet and he was wearing t-shirt and shorts that both looked damp, as if pulled on quickly.

I proffered my peace offering, said my piece and then gave him something else, an article to read about the corner-cutting, bad customer service and other not so satisfactory aspects of flying Ryanair. He sort of stared at me, but asked me in. I had explained that our disagreement had shocked and upset me, and that I didn't want to find that I'd messed things up for something that wasn't really important.

He'd opened the wine, we had a glass and sat down. He read the article, in great detail, whilst I simply sat there. No skim reading. And all the time me feeling idiotically on edge. Finally, when he'd finished, I admitted that there was something else, but that I hadn't wanted to say because if felt like I was using my health as a weapon, but that I wasn't sure how much energy I would have if I had to get up at 3am in the morning.

That had floored him, because suddenly he had to think about the idea of getting up so early and what it would do, to both of us. We ended up having a discussion. The make-up sex didn't happen till a couple of days later.

In the end, I bought the more expensive flights and Colin gave me the lower amount. The flight was at 10.50am, which meant that we still got up early. Colin was a worrier and the getting to Manchester Airport on time was a big thing, for him. So, we were up with the lark, got there in plenty of time and had a decent breakfast at the airport. I decided I could live with that, and when we arrived in Oslo, having had quite a relaxing flight, Colin had embarrassedly thanked me, saying that the more expensive flight had been the right thing to do. I had refused to let him pay more however, and laughing said he could put it to our bar bill.

By the time we got to our hotel, we were both knackered. We were a bit out of the centre, in a more ordinary hotel. The area was lively, and there was regular bus and train service to the centre, but when we arrived, it felt that it had already been a long, long day. The room, which was nicely designed, but tiny, had a bottle of wine in it, with a price-tag attached, Colin looked at it and did the conversion and burst out laughing, we both did. It really broke the ice, again, and the sex was fabulous.

But we didn't want to spend what little remained of the afternoon, and the evening, in this pokey hotel room. I had sorted out travel passes for us on our phones; the advice had come from Jo at work, who evidently spent a lot of time in Scandinavia. This meant all we had to do was hop on a bus and there we were, on the main drag.

I had an idea of what I wanted to see, but Colin had a list. This went by the board when we realised, we were just in time to visit the City Hall with its murals. For those that don't know, the building is a huge one, begun in the 1930s but full of what I think of as Arts & Crafts elements, along with some fabulous murals. Inside, I looked at the murals whilst Colin seemed to look at everything else as well; the stonework, brickwork and carving excited him and we had to walk all the way around the outside, and there was a lot of it, that building is huge. Afterwards he admitted that he was not all that keen on the style of the architecture, but the craftsmanship was superb.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"Mind what?", I was curious. We were stood looking over the seafront, having walked down from the City Hall.

"Well, me dragging you all the way round the building", and there had been stops to look at others.

I had laughed, "We won't be able to do everything, but I'm happy to try. And no. It's a case of if you are happy then I am. Usually, I just wander around strange places, perhaps with a couple of focus points."

"Like the Viking Museum?"

"Yes, and we have to see the Opera House, but I know that's on your list. And wandering around the City Hall is as good a way as any to see the city. Besides, if I get bored or tired, then I will tell you and I can sit down in a café, and you can go for a wander."

"You don't mind?" He seemed most concerned.

I took his hand, which caused a bit of stiffening, "No. I don't mind. I'm enjoying myself, believe it or not. This is about the two of us doing things, not me dragging you round things I want. Granted, a bit of give-and-take never comes amiss, but I'm good at the moment."

That was when my stomach gave a terrible rumble and Colin grinned. We agreed that breakfast seemed an age away and lunch on the plane had been purely notional. We headed vaguely towards the Opera House (which was also by the water), but inevitably ended up wandering a bit, looking at the buildings, and found, more by chance than anything, a decent looking pizza place. A pizza each, a salad and a glass of wine didn't break the bank, either.

We got out the map and talked about what we planned for tomorrow. The first thing was the Viking Ship Museum which was on a separate peninsula and required a significant bus journey.

"Once over there, it might make sense to explore the rest of that area."

Colin peered at the map and pointed, "That's the Open Air Museum, that means old buildings doesn't it?"

"That's what they usually are", I checked a little guide-book I'd picked up, "Created in the late 19th century and featuring old buildings from all over Norway including an historic stave church. Sounds as if it’s a lot of folk art and stuff as well."

"Would you like to?"

I shrugged, "To a certain extent, it would be interesting to see what old Norway was like. I don't know whether there will be much brick-work for you, sounds like they built in wood."

"The pictures look good."

"I can always sit in the café", I grinned.

"There's a café?"

"Bound to be. The place is in the middle of nowhere."

"Sounds good."

"There are other things." We looked at the map and the guidebook, then I gave a laugh.

"What?"

"There's a nudist beach, perhaps I should go there and leave you at the Open Air Museum?" At this, Colin looked positively alarmed, though whether it was at the idea of a nudist beach, leaving me alone there or being left on his own, I wasn't sure. All three, maybe, "Joke! I think it would be better and far more fun if we stay together. So, Open Air Museum, complete with café?"

We ate a bit of pizza, but Colin looked thoughtful, "Does everyone at the nudist beach take their clothes off?"

I raised my eyebrows, "Well, I've never been to that one, but I hardly imagine they have beach police telling you to strip off", we laughed at the idea. "I haven't been to many nude beaches and the ones I have were mainly gay. The Scandinavians have a different attitude to taking your clothes off, its less about sex and more about exposure to the precious rays of the sun. The beach will be mixed, I'd imagine, men and women, old and young, and usually there are people covered up or partially. Sometimes folk feel that their tender bits have had enough exposure for one day."

"Fried willy?"

"Not pleasant. And sometimes there are groups and not everyone has the same attitude to stripping off. OK?"

"Yeah. Sounds about right."

More eating, more thoughtfulness, "Would you really have come by Ryanair if I'd wanted?"

"Of course. Any relationship is about compromise, though I'm the first to admit that I'm crap at that. But I wanted to come here and wanted to come here with you, so…" I let it hang, he nodded.

"I was really pissed off with myself after our visit to Ten Tons of Fun."

I looked at him, where was this conversation going? I shrugged, "Why? I thought we had fun. And my over-doing things was far more to do with lugging boxes and that, than dancing in the club."

"No. It's just. Well. I could have worn a jock-strap."

"But you don't have one?"

He went a bit pink, "I do now."

I stared at him, "How come?"

"I bought one on-line. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise. It came the other day, and I've brought it with me."

"So, you're going to give me a preview tonight!", he went a delightful shade of bright pink. "How did you get the right size?"

"I measured a pair of me knickers, the ones that were most comfy and bought that size."

I nodded, "Good. But anyway, less of the distractions from ideas of your bum in a jock-strap. Why were you feeling pissed off?"

"I should have worn a jock and tried it. Just for a bit. There were other bigger guys in them and, well, if I'm constantly frightened of being big then I'm no different from when I was a kid. And that means Mum and Miles are still winning."

"I don't think it’s a competition", I discreetly patted his knee under the table. "It's about you being comfortable."

"So, I reckoned tomorrow. If the weather is OK. Then after the Viking Museum we could have lunch then go to the nude beach and I'll wear me shorts or me underpants and try taking them off. See how it goes. Just for a bit."

"Wow. Yes. You sure you'll be comfortable?"

"Bloody hell, I know I won't be comfortable. But… You know, you don't achieve anything by not trying!"

The Opera House was stunning. At least I thought so. But Colin was less certain, the amazing slice of glass and marble that seemed to hover over the harbour didn't move him the way it did me, though we were both uncertain of the slab-like Munch Museum that loomed behind it. We wandered around, but the building was closed and the theatre not in use that evening. Colin's view of buildings seemed to be somewhat more traditional, and I think he found the coolness of it off putting.

Annoyingly, neither of us had thought of actually booking for the theatre. As it turned out, there was nothing on this weekend, but Colin seemed intrigued. My experience of opera and musical theatre was minimal, perhaps we should explore.

We got back to the hotel tired but happy, as they say. We both felt like a shower after the stresses and strains of the day, and who could have guessed that sight-seeing was so sweaty. The shower was good, and Colin didn’t moan about the workmanship too much, but it was small, bijou even. Definitely one at a time. I went first and left Colin undressing, when I got out he was holding the towel in front of himself. My heart sank, a bit, because I thought he’d started to get used to stripping off in front of me. But then he gave a shy smile and dropped the towel, and there he was wearing his new jock-strap.

It took a little time to get to Colin’s shower, because first I had to show him quite how much I appreciated the jock-strap.