I’m in love. Still watching Fame Academy religiously, and Ainsley singing Don’t Get Me Wrong straight at me (well, you know, the camera obviously) was just bloody marvellous. Sigh. I don’t think I’d actually want him in real life, he’s not my type at all (too skinny and too cute), but can I have him as a pet, please, he’s so lovely?

Voice in my head: well, what do you think?

Planning a trip down memory lane this Saturday. I need to go to Husfliden in Hamar (which is where we used to live – Hamar, that is, not Husfliden – from I was 4 until we moved to Trondheim when I was 16) in an attempt to obtain the correct sort of material to alter my grandmother’s bunad (national costume) to fit me. She gave it to me before Christmas and she’s (reasonably) been asking about progress ever since. In any case the alterations really need to be done by 17 May, and so I need to get my hands on the material. So here’s to hoping they actually have it.

Anyhow, I thought I’d spend the rest of the day wandering randomly through Hamar, going for a walk on the beach (Mjøsa is not the ocean, but it’s pretty big), maybe I’ll even make it as far as Domkirkeodden. I’ve hardly been to Hamar at all since my grandmother (the other one) died in 1994. I was there once for Stine Pernille’s wedding, of course, but even that is 6 years ago by now. So walking about there again is going to be weird. I’m certainly going to step off the train and feel slightly disappointed at the lack of ceremony. I always do when I return somewhere after a long time away. Subconsciously, I always expect cheering crowds and brass bands and confetti and streamers filling the air, and when everyone else turns out to be sublimely indifferent and go about their business as if nothing extraordinary is happening I always feel a little cheated and slightly deflated. Irrational? Yes.

Anyone want to come with me? Yeah, fun day out. Maybe not. Unless you’d be amused by my going “Ooh, we used to…” and “Oh, I just remembered…” all day, in which case please come along.

Ah, childhood memories. It’ll be fun to indulge for one whole day. I’ll have to stop by the library, it used to be my favourite place in the whole world, after all. I wonder if our old hose is still red, or whether it’s been repainted. It was a mucky yellowy-green when we bought it, and my father dropped a bucket of red paint on my mother’s head while we were painting it. Served her right for standing under the ladder, really. There were pebbles with red splashes in the driveway ever after. They are probably still there, but I suppose the people who live there now might be a bit disconcerted at finding a strange woman in their driveway musing over the pebbles. I could of course repeat my performance from when I was 8 or so, when I went and rang the bell of our first house in Hamar and said “Hi, I’m Ragnhild, I used to live here. Could I come in and see what it looks like now, please?” At least I was polite enough to say my name, and they let me come in and fed me cookies. I somehow doubt the 20 years older version of Ragnhild would get the same reception.

I wonder if the old, empty house across the street is still there? We always used to aim our New Year’s fireworks at it, in the hope that it would catch fire and burn down, it was such an eyesore. It’s probably still there, though. The newsagent where we used to buy chewing gum with Sad Sam stickers before choir practice was shut down years ago, I think. What did we do with all that gum, I wonder? I remember not actually wanting the gum, just the stickers, but I can’t remember ever throwing any away, so we must have chewed our way through it somehow. I should walk through Ankerskogen and find out whether the hollow where I always used to find the year’s first blue anemone (and get my picture in the local paper) is still there. There could even be blue anemone there, but I suppose it might be a bit early.

I could send you via tinka to read it at the source, but I can’t resist republishing this, it’s too delightful for words.

To: president@whitehouse.gov (President George W. Bush)
From: k@metameat.net (Paul Kerschen)
Subject: The cost of the Iraq war

Dear Mr. President:

Yesterday the media reported that you have made a supplemental budget request to Congress of $74.7 billion to pay for the current war in Iraq. Your budget for fiscal year 2003 assumes total federal receipts of $2,048.1 billion. My personal income tax accounts for .000000040% of that figure. Applying this percentage to the amount of funding you have requested from Congress, I find that I personally have been asked to pay $29.94 for the Iraq war.

The Mercy Corps, a charitable organization with which you may be familiar, has established an Iraq Emergency Fund to help alleviate the humanitarian catastrophe that the war has already caused, and which will only worsen in coming weeks. Lack of food, clean water, power, and medical supplies will place millions of people at risk of hunger and disease, and a refugee crisis of massive proportions is assured. I have made a charitable donation to this fund in the amount of $199.62. As I am in the fifteen-percent tax bracket, this will reduce my federal tax liability for the next year by the precise amount which you have charged me for your war.

Considering the state I was in on beforehand, whisky was (emphatically) not a good idea.

Voice in my head: Bob Dylan – Just Like a Woman

I am somewhat low on energy at the moment. I’ve only been at work for 8 hours, but it feels more like 12, and I have quite a lot to do, so a little pzazz would be helpful. Instead I have a roaming headache (one that comes and goes and moves about, currently residing in my right temple) and no energy whatsoever. I need to leave to go to the whisky society board meeting in less than half an hour in any case, but as things stand I could do with getting some constructive work done in that time, which seems unlikely.

Yesterday I couldn’t stop yawning after lunch.

Considering whether vitamin supplements or something of that nature might not be a bad idea. Less work and more sleep would also be good, but very unrealistic (besides, I’ve had plenty of sleep this week, and it obviously hasn’t done me any good – perhaps I should aim to sleep less?).

Voice in my head: Alanis Morisette – Not the Doctor

Robin is a Fruit-Eating Pirate Monkey …with a Battle Rating of 9.1 To see if your Food-Eating Battle Monkey can defeat Robin, enter your name:

Sorry, Joh.

Personal relationships, real and imagined

Do not assume that you know everything there is to know about me simply because you read this blog on a regular basis. Though what I write here is certainly a truth, it is not the whole truth, by a long stretch. If you want to form judgments of me based on the information to be found here, that is your prerogative. If you chose to tell me what you think of me either in the comments or via e-mail (or any other way you like), then it is my prerogative to ignore you, as and when I chose. I invite comments, but if you have nothing constructive or encouraging to say, please count to ten and reconsider. If you disagree with something I’ve said, please ask me to clarify before lashing out – I try to be lucid, but may not always succeed.

On the whole, if you want more information or clarification, please ask. However, do not be offended if I refuse or ignore the request. I am sometimes vague on purpose, and it is possible that I have good reason to be vague, and even if my reasons would not seem adequate to you, what I share and what I don’t is my choice entirely, reading this blog does not automatically give you any right to more information.

If you know or have known me in real life and read this blog on a regular basis, I’d appreciate it if you let me know. Not doing so seems to me to be akin to eavesdropping, and therefore rather childish. Whether I am aware of your readership or not, I avoid writing anything here that I do not want you to hear, so you are not going to “miss out” if you let me know.

Please note that I purposefully make a lot of what I write non-specific, please do not, therefore, assume that I am referring to you just because the facts seem to fit, unless I mention your name specifically. If you read something you do not like, please discuss it with me before you let it affect our relationship. If you feel that I am compromising your privacy by writing about you, please let me know. We should be able to come to a satisfactory agreement, I can either write even more vaguely, or I can refrain from mentioning anything concerning you. Please also consider that although you may (think you) know who and what I am talking about, again, unless I mention names, the rest of the world probably does not.

Other topics

The above covers what I have to say on “Personal relationships and privacy” which is the only part of this general disclaimer for bloggers which I did not feel I could subscribe to. Please read anything that applies to you as regards “Feedback and initiating contact”, “Offensive language and materials” and “Copyright and courtesy” sections.

As far as contacting me goes, the general disclaimer is accurate, except that I would like to add that as of this moment, I do generally respond to all genuine attempts to contact me. Depending on how busy I am, a response might not always appear immediately, however.

I will create a permanent link to this entry in the right hand menu, but felt it was appropriate to create the disclaimer as a blog entry for the very specific reason that you will then be able to comment on it.

Well, that’s it. I’m not buying any more books from Ark.

Every two years there is a big semi-co-ordinated book sale in Norway called “Mammutsalget” (the mammoth sale – easy innit?), most of the books being 50-70% off the normal retail price. This year the official dates were 10-22 March. And every year the best part of the sale is the week after, where all the shops do 30-70% off the sale price again, making the books very cheap indeed. Of course, by this time, the established goodies are gone, but then, one may not always agree with everyone else on what “the goodies” are. So today after work I went trawling the bookshops of Oslo. I actually made it to Tanum on Karl Johan yesterday, and they had 30% off, and I made off with:

Ludwig Wittgenstein “Filosofiske undersøkelser” (Philosophische Untersuchungen)
André Bjerke “Versekunsten, rytme og rim”
Charles Baudelaire “Kunsten og det moderne liv” (contains a selection of Baudelaires art criticism and essays)

and all for less than 200 kroner. Yay me. So today I started at Ark up by Sollis Plass. What? No sale? All Mammut books tidied away? More’s the pity. So I walked down to Norli, and (whahay!) they were doing 50% off. So there I was, paying (very little) for

Georg Johannesen “Litteraturens norske nullpunkt” (essays on contemporary Norwegian non-fiction)
Olav H. Hauge “Dikt i umsetjing” (selected poetry translated by Hauge, from such poets as Hölderlin and Celan)
Charles Baudelaire “Det vondes blomar” (Les Fleur du Mal)

That should keep me busy for a while. However, not done with Ark yet. I also tried the Egertorvet branch. Surely they must realise that the hunt through the cheap remains is the main delight of the sale? No, they don’t. Or, if they do, they don’t care. All sale books tidied away.

So, while everyone else is boycotting Iraq, the United States, Shell, France, McDonald’s, Nike and heaven knows what else, I am going to boycott Ark. That’s how seriously I take my book buying.

Voice on the stereo: Chrissy Hynde (well, The Pretenders) – My City Was Gone (I started humming Don’t Get Me Wrong earlier and wanted to hear it. Turns out I don’t actually have it on CD, which seems frightfully remiss of me and which will have to be remedied. In the meantime, this isn’t bad.)

This arrived in my mailbox this morning (with an attachment called Q240312.exe) :

Microsoft Customer

this is the latest version of security update, the
“March 2003, Cumulative Patch” update which eliminates
all known security vulnerabilities affecting Internet Explorer,
Outlook and Outlook Express as well as five newly
discovered vulnerabilities. Install now to protect your computer
from these vulnerabilities, the most serious of which could allow
an attacker to run executable on your system. This update includes
the functionality of all previously released patches.

Microsoft Product Support Services and Knowledge Base articles can be found on the Microsoft Technical Support web site. For security-related information about Microsoft products, please visit the Microsoft Security Advisor web site, or Contact us.

Please do not reply to this message. It was sent from an unmonitored e-mail address and we are unable to respond to any replies.

Thank you for using Microsoft products.

With friendly greetings,
Microsoft Internet Technical Services

Now, it is of course possible that this is legit, but for several reasons I doubt it…

1. Since when does Microsoft send you security updates per e-mail?
2. The attachment is 3 byte. Not a lot for a Microsoft update.
3. The sender address is “Microsoft “, hardly convincing.
4. The recipient is “To: “Microsoft Customer”@no.domain.spam”.

Curiosity killed the cat. I find myself tempted to download the attachment to find out A. whether Norman/Norton will handle it and B. which virus it is.

Ah me.

Ok, I will resist the temptation. I think.

Voice in my head: Vonda Shepard – I only want to be with you

So. My birthday is coming up. It’s on a Thursday, so if I am going to celebrate it’ll have to be Friday 11th. Fair enough.

Huh, what am I saying “if” for? Of course I’m going to celebrate! Surely that’s the reason the Good Lord gave us birthdays? The question isn’t “if?” but “where?” and “how?”.

I’m leaning towards The Dubliner as the best option all round (it’s basically between that and my flat, The Dubliner is my favourite place for an evening out, after all). As long as I book a table there is plenty of room, even on a Friday evening (as opposed to my flat which has room for only a very moderate party). The food is good (and I wouldn’t have to cook). The drink is very good. The atmosphere is brilliant and I can pretend to be in the British Isles. There are two drawbacks:

One: Though the drink is good it is also expensive.
Two: As people will have to pay their own meal and drinks, there can be no obligation to bring me birthday presents.

Actually, the latter is potentially a good test of people’s perceptiveness and inventiveness. I do love presents – have people noticed? And I do not care whether it cost them 50 øre (4 pence or so) or 500 kroner (40 pounds or so) – in fact, unreasonably costly presents disconcert me by putting me in a state of obligation to the giver (unless I know the person really well) – it really is the thought that counts. And by thought I do not mean: “See, I brought you a present”, but “See, brought you a present that I think you will like”. (Not to put pressure on anyone at all.)

Hm. I think I will start at The Dubliner. It means I can invite more people without worrying much about whether they’ll turn up or not. We can always move on to my place (or somewhere else, for that matter) if we find we’re a suitably sized party as the evening progresses. (Note aside: I know this is the opposite of what “normal” people do. “Normal” people start the party at home and then go out. But then “normal” people want to go clubbing or sit in places with cigarette smoke so dense you can’t see your hand in front of your face and music so loud you can’t hear yourself think, let alone the person talking to you. I don’t. My idea of a perfect evening is plenty of conversation with reasonably intelligent and funny people, and I prefer to be able to hear them and to speak without having to shout.)

Anyway, that’s decided, then: If you’re near enough Oslo to be able to make it to The Dubliner on 11 April, therefore, consider yourself invited. Please let me know if you intend to turn up – I do need to book a table.

It occurs to me that I probably have to send some e-mails as well, rather than expect that everyone I know reads this. Their loss entirely, of course, but there you are, I do know such people.

It also occurs to me that this is a good occasion for publishing the laws I once set down – as they were originally created in relation to birthdays, mostly:

Ragnhilds 1. lov: Man blir aldri for gammel for geletog. (One does not grow too old for jelly trains.)

Ragnhilds 2. lov: Det er aldri noen grunn til å spare på vaniljesausen. (There is never any reason to save the vanilla sauce.)

Ragnhilds 3. lov: Man skal, om overhodet mulig, ha bursdagsselskap. (One should, if at all possible, have a birthday party.)

Ragnhilds 4. lov: Det er alltid plass til en bok til. (There is always room for one more book.)

I’ve been trying to disprove the fourth – as the good little scientist that I am – for years. I have not succeeded yet.

Voice in my head: Kent – Allt som inte är musiken (that is the title, right? I don’t even like the song, so don’t expect me to know the title.)