Å tale er sølv

I går ble jeg minnt på en av de få tingene jeg hater med å reise alene (sånt rent bortsett fra at jeg slett ikke hadde lyst til å si hade på Victoria, da), nemlig at det er veldig vanskelig å ikke overhøre andre menneskers samtaler når man ikke har noen å snakke med selv (og har vært idiot og lagt igjen MP3 spilleren hjemme). Det er utrolig hvor sjelden andre mennesker snakker om noe interessant når du ikke kan unngå å høre etter. Utvalg fra gårsdagen:

– to spanske jenter på bussen som hold på å dø av latter av en sang på Britisk radio (jeg skal inrømme at den var litt sær, den besto nemlig kun av plystring, men morsomt var det ikke)

– “Vi hadde kjøpt billetter og kom på flyplassen og det var gjort en feil så noe var slettet og derfor måtte vi reise hjem og komme tilbake neste dag og flyselskapet ville ikke gjøre noe fordi det ikke var deres feil men reisebyråets.” “Å gid, man skulle nesten ikke tro det gikk ann.” (Jada, skjønner at det er irriterende men sånt skjer, og kanskje det ville være mer konstruktivt å klage på reisebyrået enn på flyselskapet (som de fortsatte med i ti minutter) og, joda, man kan tro at sånt kan skje, det skal ikke noe annet til enn at noen taster feil et par ganger i datasystemet, f.eks. trykker ok når de får “er du sikker på at du vil slette?” Det at man har slettet ting man ikke mente å slette er faktisk en av de vanligste årsakene til at folk som bruker data må ringe support…)

– Lang diskusjon om hvorfor vi ikke kunne få gå av flyet bak også når vi hadde fått gå på det bak. (Hvordan man går av/på flyet er faktisk avhengig av flyplass og gate, ikke flytype. Sånn i tilfelle du ikke hadde lagt merke til det før, liksom.)

– “Jeg skjønner ikke hvorfor vi ikke bare kunne få slippe gjennom innenlandsterminalen, jeg.” – gjentatt tjue ganger (av samme person). (Flyet skulle videre til Trondheim, så vi parkerte ved innland og måtte busses bort til utland for å komme gjennom passkontrollen. Det siste er kluet. Det hjelper faktisk ikke at du er blond og blåøyd, passet ditt må sjekkes allikevel og flyvertinnen har fint lite myndighet til å gjøre sånt. Dessuten skal du liksom gjennom tollen med bagasjen etterpå, og det er heller ikke ved innenlandsterminalen.)

Jeg er jo misantrop fra før, og jeg blir ikke akkurat mindre kritisk av å være trøtt og sliten.

Such a pity

You can’t help feeling sorry for A.S. Byatt. Just think of the enjoyment she’s missing out on, since she thinks Harry Potter is crap (thanks to Martin for the link). Apparently:

It is written for people whose imaginative lives are confined to TV cartoons and the exaggerated – more exciting, less threatening – mirror world of soaps, reality TV and celebrity gossip.

Now, I must admit I’ve never read Byatt (maybe that’s her problem?), but I fail to recognise myself in the picture she paints (oh, that could also be her problem…). It’s been a while since I watched TV cartoons, I prefer a book (Proust, anyone?) to soaps, reality TV makes me dive for the remote (to press the OFF!! button) and uhm, well, I bought a celebrity gossip mag last week (for the first time, ever, as far as I can remember), but that was after getting up at five in the morning, four hours on a bus and five hours waiting around at the airport, so I think my mental state at the time could be described as “unusual”.

I’m not a great fan of Tolkien (read it, enoyed bits of it), and I’ve never managed to finish an Alan Garner – I did, however, enjoy Susan Cooper (I assume ‘Cropper’ is a misprint, if not Byatt is talking about a very obscure writer, that not even Google has heard about – unless ‘Loving and Losing a Pet’ is the book she’s referring to…), she really is excellent (and, yes, serious). Her choice of examples seem somewhat weird, though. Tolkien, at least, had an intended audience of adults. Garner and Cooper seem to have a target audience of “young adults” – I read Cooper long before I was 12 and had no problems with her – and I’m one of those people who suspect Rowling would have given me nightmares when I was 11.

Thanks to google, here’s the original article by Byatt in NY Times.

I see from The Leaky Cauldron that Fay Weldon admits to finding it “troubling” when she sees grown-ups reading HP. Why? Surely there is nothing inherently wrong with reading children’s books when you’re grown up? They are written by grown-ups, aren’t they? Does it not occur to these people that some authors are actually able to write books that are mulit-layered, on the surface simple enough that children can read them, at heart complicated enough that adults can find them challenging as well as entertaining?

What I find “troubling” is when seemingly intelligent people turn out to chose The Sun as their daily paper (and their main source of information about what’s going on in the world). This is worrying. Adults reading well-written children’s books is not.

And, as I said, Byatt is missing out – majorly.

Voice on the tv: George Michael – Careless Wispers

Ost

Og så jeg som alt var sulten (grunnet ferie var kjøleskapet rimelig tomt i dag morges, så det ble ingen frokost). Ironisk nok var det lille som var i kjøleskapet for det meste ost. En bit chevre, en bit taleggio. Begge har ligget der i minst en måned. Betyr det at jeg ikke bør spise dem? Chevren var blitt veldig hard på utsiden men så ok ut. Taleggioen stiller jeg meg mer tvilende til. Jeg hadde dessuten også en (uåpnet) boks Philadelphia ost med urter. Best før 15. juni. Det begynner også å bli en stund siden, men det er jo “best før”, ikke “holdbar til”. For sikkerhets skyld motsto jeg fristelsen til å ta noen av dem til frokost.

Jeg har lyst på pizza med blåmuggost på. Linda og jeg spiste pizza på Flemings for to uker siden, men Linda liker ikke blåmuggost, så det måtte jeg klare meg uten. Trist. Ikke kan jeg bare gå tilbake heller, siden Flemings ligger i Worthing. Litt langt å reise bare for å få pizza med blåmuggost.

Nå skal jeg gå og spise lunsj før jeg besvimer av sult.

Post-ferie blues

Ai, ai. F?rste dag p? jobb etter ferien er alltid en smule vanskelig ? takle. Det hjelper selvsagt ikke at reisef?lget for de siste feriedagene fortsatt er i London (ikke at jeg heller vil v?re i London enn p? jobb, neida, slett ikke). Akk og ve.

For ? underholde meg selv har jeg opprettet en ny nasjon p? Nation States. Jeg hadde en f?r, men den var slettet p? grunn av manglende aktivitet. N? f?r vi se om jeg klarer ? stikke innom ofte nok.

Kanskje jeg skulle pr?ve ? jobbe litt til f?r lunsj…

Ok, so it’s Monday

But I’m going to do the This or That Tuesday summer potpurri anyway.

1. Strawberries or blueberries?
Both, please. They’re not in season at the same time anyway, and I only eat them in season – well, fresh that is, I do eat frozen/jam at other times. Once you’ve had strawberries in season (picked that same morning at a local farm) the imported ones you can buy in the supermarket taste like someone’s tried to “make” strawberries and haven’t quite succeeded because they’ve added too much water or something. If we’re talking flavour rather than the fresh fruit, I’d have to go with blueberries, though, I’m not very fond of strawberry-flavoured stuff.

2. “Legally Blonde 2” or “Terminator 3”?
Haven’t seen the prequels of either, so I don’t think I’ll see any of them just yet.

3. Hamburgers or hot dogs?
Home-grilled (or should I say home-burnt?) hot dogs.

4. Boating or hiking?
Boating. I like hiking too, but nothing beats boating.

5. Suntan lotion or sunblock?
Does it make any difference?

6. “Big Brother” or “The Amazing Race”?
Not Big Brother. What’s The Amazing Race?

7. Beach Boys or Jimmy Buffett?
The Beach Boys are cool, but who’s Jimmy Buffett?

8. Grow your own produce or buy from supermarket/greengrocer/farm stand?
The latter. Where would I grow produce? If I had a garden I’d probably try growing some vegetables, though – carrots at least.

9. Drive with car windows/top down, or with air-conditioning on?
Windows/top down. I don’t like air-conditioning, it feels all wrong.

10. Go away for vacation, or stay at home?
Been there, done that (gone away that is). Going away again in September.

Voice in my head: Avril Lavigne – “If I could say what I want to say, I’d say I want to blow you away, be with you every night, am I squeezing you too tight? If I could say what I want to see, I want to see you go down on one knee – Marry me today – I guess I’m wishing my life away”

Home, sweet home

Home again, and I can’t tell you how much I look forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. Sleep just in general would be good, actually, because, true to form, I hardly slept last night due to stress on account of flying and all. I can’t understand how I manage to get so worked up about travelling, but there it is.

Where were we? Oh, yes, Wigtown… Well, made my way from Wigtown on Friday to arrive in London in the early evening. Martin (he was going to London for the weekend anyway and since the sailing never manifested itself I figured I might as well grab the chance to meet up with him and travel back from Stanstead with Norwegian meaning I’d land at Gardemoen rather than Torp) arrived lateish, too late for the pub, in fact, which we made up for Saturday. Traipsed around town (Hyde Park, Oxford Street (including HMV, bad idea), Lincoln’s Inn, Royal Mile Whiskies (another bad idea), National Gallery, the South Bank and so on) and had a lovely time. The weather was over-friendly (I’m not all that partial to temperatures over 20ish degrees (celcius), but at least I suppose I’m glad it didn’t rain).

Martin’s not going back until tomorrow (lucky guy – the fact that I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have liked to stay longer), so he saw me off at Victoria Coach Station this afternoon and no doubt headed off to have a celebratory pint (or ten). Celebratory because today’s his birthday – not because he’d seen me off (at least I hope not). Unfortunately – you might even say unpolitely (if that were a word) – I only remembered that it was his birthday five minutes after I got on the coach. Well, at least I sent an sms. Come to think of it, perhaps he did want to celebrate seeing me off, at least he’ll get his pints to himself – despite the fact that I have yet to find a beer I like I insist on tasting all of them. I have this irrational hope that I’ll suddenly “snap out of it” and think “well, this is delicious” or something. Pretty stupid, really, as A. it’s very unlikely and B. why would I want to like beer in the first place?

Oooh, gotta go get pizza out of oven. Mmm, pizza…

Voice in my head: Gareth Gates – It could happen to anyone (No, it bloody well couldn’t! Get out of my head you stupid git!)

We will resume

…our regular correspondence soon – tomorrow, I suspect, the holiday is almost over. But here’s the Friday Five in the meantime.

1. Do you remember your first best friend? Who was it?
Torkjel was my first best friend, I guess – two years older than me, he’s the son of friends of my parents, so we’ve basically known each other since I was born. We lived just a few hundred meters apart for a couple of years when I was 3 or 4, so we spent a lot of time together.

2. Are you still in touch with this person?
Occasionally, though it’s a couple of years since last time.

3. Do you have a current close friend?
Yes. A couple, in fact. I’m probably closest to Linda at the moment, though.

4. How did you become friends with this person?
We started fencing at the same time in Trondheim, and hit it off pretty quickly. The funny thing is that a mutual friend of ours had been talking for years about introducing us to each other, as she was sure we were long-lost twin sisters or something (equally batty, I suspect).

5. Is there a friend from your past that you wish you were still in contact with? Why?
I lost touch with Marianne who I met in Aarhus, and that bothers me. Anyone know a Marianne Jepsen whose family used to live in Tønder? Get her to get in touch, will you?

Ah, life

Sitting in Prestwick studying the map of Scotland I realised I was just a stone’s throw from Wigtown. Wigtown!

Disregarding such trivial details as “I’ve spent too much money on this trip already” and “my luggage is waaay over the 20 kg limit” and “I need more bookshelves, not more books”, four buses and three hours later and here I am.

To top it off, it turns out that Bladnoch distillery is just down the road in the next village, so in a few minutes, after having invested in a scetchpad (I’ve been reading about painting, that always makes me want to draw), I will be setting off on a ramble which will include the distillery visitors’ centre.

Voice in my head: James Baskett (is he the one who sings, I wonder?) – Zip-a-dee-do-dah

It’s not you

It’s definitely me. My wits are still scattered. So I’m not giving you a long nice travelog entry, I’m doing last monday’s Monday Mission.

When was the last time you said or were told the following, and more importantly, how did it feel to be you at that moment:
1. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

I’ve never said that, nor have I ever been told that. I suppose you could say that I have said it, just in somewhat different words. The “I’m choosy” line is practically the same, isn’t it – it’s an attempt at letting people down nicely, but it still translates as “There’s something wrong with you”.

2. “I love you, but I’m not in love with you.”
Nope. Never this one.

3. “You just don’t get it!”
Ah. That one’s been in use, and I’ve heard it too. Not in “romantic” connection, though. If the other person “doesn’t get it” I don’t bother telling them, I’m just outta there…

4. “Do I look fat…”
No. I have mirrors, I can tell for myself. No point in asking a question you don’t want an honest answer to, is there?

5. “I hate you!”
Hm. I think the last time I said or heard this must have been when me and my best friend used to have raging rows and one of us would up and leave insisting we would never speak to the other one again, and then half an hour later one of us would phone and say, as if nothing had happened, “Do you want to come over to my place to play?” We must have been ten or so the last time it happened.

6. “If you really loved me…”
Never said it, can’t imagine I’d ever say it, either. Emotional blackmail isn’t my game.

7. “Not tonight…”
Well, not in so many words. Not as regards the word starting with s and ending with ex, anyway, which I assume is the intended interpretation. I have said – literally – “Not tonight…” to suggestions such as “Oh, come to the pub/nightclub/party with us” or “Want to come back to mine for a nightcap”, either because I didn’t feel like it (usually as regards the nightclub) or because I thought it was getting too late proportionally to when I needed to get up in the morning.

Still no travelog

Ok, I know it’s not Tuesday (in fact, it’s almost next Tuesday), but still…

1. Lemonade or Ice Cold Beer?
Not beer, but “english” cider (or Irish, if it’s going). Or simply water. Not lemonade, at any rate.

2. Swimming pool or beach?
For swimming, the pool. For general hanging about, the beach.

3. Long weekends here & there, or a 2-week vacation?
Both. Definitely both. But then we have five weeks of holidays to work with in Norway.

4. Destination: Acapulco or Hawaii?
Ahem. Neither as of yet, so I have no idea which one I prefer. Would you think me mad if I said: “Scotland”?

5. Destination: Mountains or Beach?
Beach, but I like my beaches wet and windy, or windy at any rate.

6. Hotel/motel/B&B or camping?
I am not a camping sort of girl. I don’t much like hotels/motels, either, though, much too impersonal – I defintely prefer B&Bs

7. Carefully planned vacation, or play it by ear?
Sometimes one, sometimes the other. We’re playing it majorly by ear this time, which has resulted in some hicups (the sailing not happining being just the least of it) but as we’re having a wonderful time anyway, I still think it’s a good way to travel. If I were ever to get a tattoo, it would have to be the word “serendipity”.

8. Sneakers or sandals?
Sandals. I have new sandals. I love them.

9. Air-conditioning or fans?
Fans. Air conditioning creates such a fake atmosphere, and when you’re going from the cold, air-conditioned interiors into the hot, humid exterior all the time you get a cold very easily, and it’s not pleasant on the whole.

10. Concerts in the park or baseball games?
Well, not baseball games, anyway. Not sports at all, in fact, so I guess it’ll have to be concerts in the park.

Voice in my head: “Why do you build me up – build me up – darling, just to let me down – let me down” and so on, you know the one.