WITH THREE BOYS UNDER EIGHT, my husband and I find it tricky to carve out solo time with them, and therefore decided to take each on an individual trip every year. An opportunity presented itself when a Norwegian friend who used to live in London invited us to Oslo. Margrethe’s six year-old Sid and my middle son Henry (above) have been buddies since nursery, so we relished the prospect of seeing old friends – and a new place.
Our light over was Henry’s first, so his excitement was tempered by nerves. ‘Why’s there smoke?’ he said, peering out of the window. When I told him we were lying through clouds he was delighted.
I asked the cabin crew if he could meet the pilot and after landing we headed for the cockpit. ‘There are buttons everywhere,’ Henry said in awe. ‘Even on the ceiling!’ We collected Sid from school, and Henry was amazed to discover it had a dedicated Lego room. I was equally labbergasted to see that the playground had no perimeter gates. The pupils are trusted to stay put, which they generally do. Needing sustenance, we headed to the Kaffebrenneriet in Grünerløkka for kanelboller (cinnamon buns). Each day brought new buns, from the classic raisin boller to custardilled skoleboller (‘school buns’).
Henry loved travelling by tram – though was miffed that local authorities hadn’t felt it necessary to install a buffet car. But there was hot chocolate on our two-hour tour of the Oslo fjord in a vintage wooden sailboat. We spotted hardy swimmers off the Bygdøy peninsula, pretty summer houses on Lindøya island and – thrillingly – a patrolling police boat.