Avid collector Ole Worm created Denmark’s first museum showcasing world exotica in the 17th century

The fantasy horror writer H.P. Lovecraft used him as the model for his creepy character Olaus Wormius, who translated the notorious ‘Grimoire the Necronomicon’ from Arabic into Latin, thus inspiring ‘Cthulhu Cult’ copycat novels and video games for decades to come. But the real-life Olaus Wormius was the Latin translation for one Ole Worm, the learned title Denmark’s first antiquarian used himself.

Renaissance man Ole Worm (1558-1654) was a physician from Århus who was sent  aged 13 by his wealthy family to study in Germany, and who after much time spent in the various universities of Europe finally received his last degree in Copenhagen aged 29. His duties as a doctor ranged from being assigned personal physician to King Christian IV, to being one of the few people to remain in Copenhagen during the time of the Black Death in order to minister to the plague’s victims.

His sisters called him ‘Phileas the sissy’. But for two months in 1928, 15 -year-old Palle Huld was a national hero

Huld’s adventure began on the morning of 24 Febuary 1928, while he was working at F. Bulow & Co, an automobile firm on Esplanaden in the centre of Copenhagen where he had recently started an apprenticeship. He was accosted by an excited colleague clutching a copy of that morning’s Politiken newspaper under his arm.

The paper was advertising for a healthy boy of 15 years, preferably a boy scout, to travel around the world in Phileas Fogg’s footsteps in commemoration of the 100-year anniversary of Jules Verne’s birth.

Politiken’s idea was to show their readers that in those ‘modern’ times it was possible to take a trip around the earth, without the use of aircraft, in a lot less than 80 days- in just 44 days in fact. While it was by no means alone in running such a feature, the newspaper was the only one which had decided to send such a young, inexperienced traveller.

According to Huld’s autobiography, published in 1992, ‘Something in me had to try it.’ He took his leave from work and rushed home to Nyhavn for the required parental permission slip. But when he entered the Politiken building on Rådhuspladsen at 2pm as requested, he was shocked by the 350 other hopefuls who filled the staircase waiting to be seen. What chance did he stand?

The boys were interviewed individually about what they would do in difficult situations. When asked how he would react if he found himself in China having lost his entire belongings, one boy answered that he would ‘try to find a Dane somewhere to help me’.

Huld returned home to his teasing sisters, who assured him that ‘mummy’s boy Palle’ would never be picked. Surely other contenders – high school students from wealthy backgrounds – were a more obvious candidate than this carrot-topped apprentice who had never completed his education? Yet on his return to the Politiken office later that day, Huld was the individual the newspaper chose.

In January 1948, a Social Democrat and classically schooled academic altered  the way Danish is spelled

Sixty-two years ago a new letter in the Danish language was born. The official introduction of the letter ‘å’ in Danish spelling brought the total number of letters to 29.

Placed at the end of the Danish alphabet after ‘z’, ‘æ’, and ‘ø’; ‘å’ replaced ‘aa’ (pronounced somewhat like ‘o’) in all words that were not proper names, where there was a free choice between the ‘old’ and the ‘new’ system.

For example, the official spelling of Denmark’s largest city is Århus, but its university is spelled ‘Aarhus’.

At the same time, Germanic letters at the start of nouns were also abolished in nearly all instances.

The change from ‘aa’ to ‘å’ (known as ‘bolle-å’ because of the bun-like ring above the ‘a’, and also referred to as ‘Swedish a’) was not universal, as the old spelling is retained in reprints of old books, and many people who learnt to read and write before the new rules (and for a number of years after), still use ‘aa’.

Although ‘å’ is the youngest member of the Danish alphabet, it has been used in written Danish since the 19th century following discussions during the 18th century about replacing ‘aa’.

But the letter can actually be traced back to Swedish documents in the 15th century as a combination of ‘a’ and ‘o’ and ‘å’ was included in printed Swedish in 1526.

In 1743, the Danish grammatical expert Jens Høysgaard was the first to argue for the introduction of ‘å’ into written Danish, while linguist and educationalist Rasmus Rask started to use the letter in the 1820s.

Animal fur is back in vogue after a checkered past as a clothing material  but for how long this time?

Anthropologists maintain that even cave dwelling homo sapiens who expanded out of Africa wore fur to shield themselves from the elements. However, far beyond serving the purpose of thermal insulation for primitive man (and woman), fur has played a dramatic role in the global expansion of business and the sustainability of cultures, particularly in colder climates, and has not surprisingly been instrumental in the development of fashion design over the last three hundred years.

In the middle ages it was statutory which types of fur the nobility were allowed to wear with particular furs reserved only for the King in Denmark. As early as 1294, trade routes were being established in the interior of Denmark, with several other countries beginning to build small profitable businesses from the sale of fur. By the seventeenth-century it became a booming trade, globally.

Copenhagen’s bodegas offer a glimpse of the old school beer drinking haunts of Denmark

For every trendy café with its lattes and moccas and overpriced, overwhelming choice of food, Copenhagen offers a cheaper, far more basic alternative: the bodega, a dingy window into Danish drinking habits which have barely altered in centuries.

Also known as ‘vinstue’ or a ‘værtshus’, many bodegas offer just one choice of beer – generally a toss-up between the two stalwarts, Carlsberg and Tuborg, although lagers like Faxe and Royal are also found. Many bodegas have no draught pumps and provide bottled beer only, which regulars will vary with shots from the many choices of Danish snaps and bitter on offer, with peculiarly national tastes like the unmistakable cloves flavour of Gammel Dansk, the ‘Fisherman’s Friend’- like kick of Fisherman’s or the liquorice flavored vodka shot, Små Grå – all real throat warmers for a cold winter’s day. Served by a leather-waistcoated barman who looks like he’s seen better days, the generally aging clientele seek refuge from a cold and perennially dark scandinavian winter in the smoky surroundings.