Read this...

.. in a very small font... so that no pesky interfering gods hear it.. 
Today we had a (small) win with the bank ..

The journey to mortgage-land has been rough, long, bumpy and nothing if not full of billabongs, culs-de-sac and backwards movements in all directions.

A few days ago I signed dozens of bits of paperwork and was told 'this is it'.  I've heard that before but this time it seemed to me that with my autograph all over things, it might mean something.

Nup.

MORE bits of paper required.  A certificate of currency (don't most people call that paper money?).  Registered thingies with the land titles office.  Double-header falling into a bureaucratic minefield of 'they said you have to', 'our lawyers said', 'it's required'... and such.  I had another request for such things this morning; my best (ie least aggressive, furious or bleep-laden) response was to turn my phone off.

Several hours later (and an/other huge medico-legal meeting over with) I turn the phone back on.  Many missed calls from Blocked.  Blocked rings me a lot. Mostly, Blocked is very shy and refuses to leave a message.  I get an auto-phone message saying 'An unknown caller from unknown number rang you and didn't leave a message'. Well, yeah..

But, but, I did get a call from The Bank Boss with a big apology. Apparently this week's paperwork requests are all wrong and the big boss never knew and there were bloods on the office carpet and quivering minions hiding in the shredder.. This is a easier thing to hear than all those reasons why *I* had to spend hours doing more things with no guarantee it would go smoothly.  I just sort of can't keep doing this stuff.  There be only one of me!!!  Anyway TBB also made a promise to front up at our place on Monday, bearing PROPER papers and another promise that after signing, yes of COURSE all those nice dollars will be ours, all ours.  A nice big debt to start off the week like good little (somewhat nervous) consumers.

And THAT means..

maybe

maybe  (shhhh)

possibly  (cross everything)

just about  (hopehopehope)

the house mods might start.

Don't gasp until I put up a photo of something REAL.  Like a bit of dug-up garden.. or a half-torn down wall.. or even a pile of builder's sand.  OOoooh, maybe even a concrete mixer!!  I like them.

We
shall
see.

This week brought to you by the quiet tears of a anguished angel watching over my shoulder; the memory of train doors closing in Paris (where my baby is right now, and where we were a little while ago, having a very different life, and we were very happy there);  aaaand the ghost of a suggestion of some Gucci, sprayed on my coat on a better day.

UPDATE: Yesterday we signed more zillions of papers. We took them to be witnessed and later the bank person rang to say the release of the first batch of dollars was available.  This cost us money!!  Nice one bank.  But then again, nice one, bank!


This update brought to you by eau-de-hydrotherapy pool, the hottest water I've ever swum in.  I am therapeutically dehydrated but fine.

And furthermore..

The List of Doom took a serious blow today.  At last!

Credit union dude helped me work out why the monies was busted.  We applied a cyber-bandaid and I should be able to feed the children again in a week or so.  Phew!

In other news, the temporary replacement/new/replacement new/new temporary replacement washing machine will be delivered tomorrow morning, pending proper replacement of the new replacement machine.  My fears for my festering clothes .. allayed to some extent by the office people's offer to launder them (if and when they ever see the light of day again).  At least (says she attempting levity) they'll be really REALLY well-rinsed...

Today we both feel a sense of achievement after a lot of fanging around on and off campus.  No-one got lost, wet or combobulated.  We dined thanks to me mum, again.  Tomorrow whoopee! we will try something called Eating At A Restaurant.

That's better.

[Brought to you by a minor panic over not having a clean shirt, and some delicious blasts of Gucci.]

Could it REALLY be true...?

We were told on Friday that it's about time for us to go home. For M to go to our local hospital to continue general rehab, for me to resume life in our home with our cat and the garden... and for all of us, to get on with the next stage of adjusting to a very changed life.

Mad packing and swinging emotions as we get ready to leave, because what we have here is so known now... tonight, as we sat together in his half-stripped hospital room, reflecting on the last nearly 14 months, we suddenly started to think of things we WON'T mind not knowing! Some of the routines, the smells, certain behaviours by certain people... the endlessness of long-term rehab, with the teeny-tiny advances. And the utter, utter boredom of contemplating either the hospital food trolley OR any of the many local food outlets. Been there, DONE THAT!

So here we come, housie, cattie, friends and old familiarities, we want to get blase about you all over again.

News like this can only be brought to you by Gucci, or Prada. So I've worn too much of both of them, one yesterday, one today. If I could find Essence de Home, I'd never wear another...

Time to cruise...

We've run away to the coast for a couple of weeks. We've had some deliciously cool rain, and some horrible steamy humidity afterwards. Why both I ask sweatily??

I've packed numerous projects, knitting and sewing, and hope to do some FINISHING. Now, pick yourselves up off the floor and behave. It has to happen sometimes you know. I recall, a couple of years ago, I was determined to finish some things, so I started with the very small, achievable things like the odd missing button on a shirt; two inches of dropped hem on a trouser leg; one final row of fringe on a scarf. Now I've pretty much run out of little jobs and I've had to take some deep breaths and look to the next layer of UFOs*.

I have with me the second half of a shawl for E (hi baby!); a tote bag project which I am taking to a one-day course at a local fabric shop; the famous 'greens' art/colour theory project quilt which is a stack of rectangles waiting for some seams to make them into a single bed quilt top. I have a random knitting thing which is just using up a weird ball of mohair and acrylic wool, not very nice to knit with but it's a pretty enough rectangle.. I'm knitting that one in what I THINK is moss stitch... and I have plenty of fat quarters for purposes of adding to/starting a small project which I am inspired to do once I have inhaled enough soothing seaside air.

These projects usually take the form of 'something useful for the house' and as such tend to be cushion covers, aprons, oven gloves, pillow cases or weird folded bits of long fabric which I think I can fake-o into a summer garment of a very toga-like nature ... ie I stand with the fabric in front of the mirror; folding, pleating and pinning, until it looks decent and feels comfy. Then I take it home and get it out next summer and try to work out what I had in mind!

But for now, these holi-days brought to you by my summer holiday stash: Ange ou Demon (nearly finished); Angel; a miniature Prada, and an unopened Gucci. So far, A ou D is winning. It's an intense, slightly musky scent which I like on these warm days. And, ya know, any excuse! Finishing a bottle is good enough for me.

*UnFinished Objects

..another pause as the gods do their evil work...

Nobody nose wot my nose nose.

I have been quietly gathering photos, thinking of where old projects might be, and very slowly working on current projects (mostly the shawl for my daughter). However we had a sudden, early hot spell, and then another, which knocked me over flat and made knitting suddenly seem very last season.

I shall leave TnS on pause until the weather and my energy level improves. And while I find out how to post photos. Any hints extremely welcome!

Today and most of November brought to you by Jo Malone, Prada and Gucci. Stronger scents for a fading nose. Lovely.

Temporary outage.

T n S is going on the road for three weeks. To visit fambly in SA, and to tour some of the area north of Perth and walk some wildflower trails.

On my return I will begin the history of a textile wrangler and how I trod the rocky road to quilting in straight lines.

Meantime these divine spring days are brought to you by coral-coloured Californian poppies, swathes of forget-me-nots, and a triumphant return to purrfume. Gucci is my destiny!

... testing ...

... it's been a difficult time lately.

Just dropping in to add a new item to my 'Have to read' list and see if anyone's been leaving comments. No. But that's ok, not much to comment on.

Most days brought to you by the hope that someone else can enjoy Gucci, Gucci Flora, or the lovely Jo Malone Dark Amber and Ginger Lily. And the fun I had making an almost-Sacher Torte for book group. I piked on the recipe which started "take 9 egg yolks" and just made a rich choclit cake and then added the Sacher details: apricot jam and booze glaze inside the cake; chocolate glaze on the outside. I was going to spell "SACHER" with silver jubes on top but couldn't find them.

Hope you all out there are all still out there.

Interruptions

After my last post I thought I'd be flying away with the sewing machine, happily producing masses of product.

Nup.

Stuff happens. You know it does. But why does it happen so much? I'm mystified. Where does the time go and all that... what with M continuing on the sick list, a sudden trip away to attend a funeral (later this week), a lot of severe insomnia, going for walks, keeping the home fires burning.. just getting from Point A (vertical, sentient and caffeinated) to any Point B seems so complicated.

How, oh HOW, did I ever manage full-time work, part-time study and single parenting? I must have been organised to the eyeballs, whirling dervishly and enjoying advanced competence. My life now appears to be so much simpler, but the hidden complexities of a retired life are really very time-consuming. I think my sis would say 'you need a bit of STRUCTURE' and she'd be right.

So, in spite of interruptions of many and complex natures, I'm going to think about structure, diaries, programming, appointmentalising, and discipline. This last word fills me with amusement cos I don't have any. But I can THINK about it!

Today brought to you by Gucci, sunshine, and the promise of some crafty time this afternoon while I have my baby fix. Yeah!

Random notes and Freiburg Part #1

[Here are some of my aide memoires; ready to have details filled in when I get the urge. At least you'll know I've not totally forgetten some fairly important bits!]

Helsinki, last day
M was feeling quite off - he thought probably culture-shock, tiredness, fedupofcrookwifeness, and maybe a touch of the blues. We could see over the road there was a shopping centre of some kind, and a sign saying Cultural Museum, so we went to have a look. First things first, let’s have (at 4pm) lunch. ... a waitress spilled an entire cup of coffee down M’s only-just-drycleaned jacket... he went ballistic, but I got a free brownie. We then inspected two modern collections (not bad, altho I got into trouble for taking photos, oops).. walk back to hotel and begin major packing opurrations, ready to go by train to St P tomorrow..


St Petersburg - the anarchist canal boat guide deserves his own entry, and dear blog, one day, ONE DAY it will come!

Riga
Two walking tours; the food; music in streets everywhere, the two concerts (both premieres; the fierce lady who berated us (to no effect!), saxophones in purrticular, the watermelon painting in the hotel; note to Austra about how much we love it here, barely even touching the surface and it’s so appealing... the ‘demo’ for opening of new uni year; seeing the previous Prez, famous woman prez who taught in Canada for 20 years before being ‘recruited’ back to Latvia to rule very successfully for ? 8 years..

the Dada cafe...the wonderful soups and the blessing of no smoking inside...

Bus to Vilnius tomorrow - only one full day and we have already decided that our two main ventures will be to the post office, then a walking tour. And, for me, a proper Web fix, so I can add to T n S; write to ppls, check dosh, etc etc.

M changes his mind on Wed morning and says no posting til Krakow - oh yes?? we’re back to 9 pieces of luggage and I think a spot of posting would be VERY useful..

more detail on Chopin concert and Raoul Wallenburg opera.. and quote the young English lad from the train today, who said to someone on his mobble that ‘we went to ‘Orshwitss, it was kinda wow’’... and why *I* didn’t go, OR to the Salt Mine. and some further reflections on the way we feel we’re being petulant about the difference in things which seems to annoy us so much, even tho it’s part and parcel of travelling.. my view is that we are essentially HOME ppl, and the places we stay at need to meet some aspects of HOME to make us feel relaxed and welcome. and the step up into bathrooms IS a bloody nuisance and a hazard, as are bloody sharp bed-edges in too-small rooms where one has to eel one’s way around everything, even a norty bad red shoe lying provocatively 4 inches way from its mate and just begging to be tripped over.. and the endless annoyance and/or cost of laundry. a super-ripoff opportunity which is milked to the max, everywhere. how many travel plugs can a girl make room for? they’d have to take up space usually reserved for precious and far more important unguents.


Riga walking tour redux; anarchy on the St Petersburg canal-waves.., some more remarks on Vilnius and Krakow.. thoughts, also, about the concertomania we may be indulging in, in Berlinsk.

Berlin, Monday Sept 15th - 11kg just sent off from Berlin post office - two boxes, one large, one medium large; containing amongst many papers and books, two wooden cats, two ceramic apples, a ceramic and glass cat or 2, a ditto angel, and the Sonato mug set. all wrapped in a mile of bubble wrap and brown duck tape. I hope and pray and wish and hopehopehope that all the breakable things make it back to Oz in the amount of pieces they started with.

I’ve been to a good doc; heard that M’s liver enzyme levels are now entirely normal, as is his blood count, bp and pulse rate. The blood test showed he’s suffering some sort of allergy - maybe a hayfever? He’s not been aware of anything, altho sneezing a bit, so that’s ok. Doc told me I looked sick; gave me antibiotics without a qualm OR a lecture (unlike Helsinki doc who visibly shuddered when I mentioned various uber-doc meds, that was rather upsetting..). also topped up my valium for my ‘back’ (I can’t tell you, half the time, whether I take it for my back or for the rest of me, psyche to the forefront..). then we walked a thousand miles to the post office and spent a thousand hours wrapping things in more bubble wrap and duck tape than you’ve ever seen. Now a taxi* to the Bauhaus, where we shall have lunch before a quick-ish look around. Then home to pack, ready for a bus to Freiburg tomorrow, arriving at 5pm.

*The taxi driver took off at a speed we’ve previously only identified with Rome.. he was making and taking calls on his mobile.. this is common, however illegal. He took us quickly to a high-rise filled street, with a huge window-fronted business with ‘BAUHAUS’ all over the glass... we wandered in a puzzled way towards it; this looks more Grace Bros than Gropius.. as we get closer we can see that the small print says ‘House and Home Wares’. Oh. Not THAT kind of Bauhaus. The driver is watching us, and as we turn back towards him he asks what the trouble is. M explains, again, that we want the ART MUSEUM BAUHOUS. He looks quite puzzled, and has to make a couple of radio calls, then at last says ‘ok ok get in’. We do, looking at each other. He charges off at high speed to a wider highway with median strip area of big business. We’re not too sure, but he’s got the bit between his teeth, and when he screeches to a halt next to a KPMG high-rise, I’m getting that ‘oh sure, we’re having and adventure’ feeling. He does two u-turns (“it’s not a trip without a u-ey” my father always says) and we end up at the same place. All this done at high speed amidst much beeping and swerving - of the other traffic. Then, nothing loathe, he turns down a walkway!!! and creeps along, looking at the highly unlikely surrounds of a small park and some fairly domestic or back of cafe buildings. Then he comes to another side street. We’re not allowed out; he calls again on the radio and this time, as he explains afterwards, he gets a woman. She gives him another address and he’s happy now, ‘oh yah, yah’ and screeches off the walkway and does a hasty u-turn onto the street. About 3 metres along, he stamps on the brakes. As we rub our foreheads from their rapid onset head-rest therapy, ‘Das is est!’ he proudly declares. Right. We hand over more Euros (he kindly deducted the second flag-fall) and head into the nearest big gateway. This still looks wrong, but I hear a beep and a despairing ‘lady! lady!’ and look back - he’s gesturing to us to go the other way, and sure enough, around a few bushes we find it, the actual Bauhaus Art Museum. Wonders.

Naturally after all the posting and walking around in the cold and then high-speed taxi shenanigans, we head straight for the cafe. The service is marginally faster than the speed of erosion, but eventually we get our baguettes and coffees. I’m flaked out by now, and M not far behind. But Berlin has been difficult for us; we haven’t got to see very much (although I must say that if all we’d seen were the two concerts, I’d be very happy). We spend a gob-smacking hour walking the exhibition, seeing familiar designs and objects, and reminding me of some of the long-lost art classes I had at my extremely ordinary high school. I recognise more than I’d expected. I was particularly delighted at the shop, where I saw ‘Stickles’, a toy from my childhood - notched coloured circles which interlocked into 3 dimensional shapes. I enjoyed seeing the cutting edge Bauhaus teasets and office chairs - these styles are as fresh and practical today as they were extreme modern minimalism in their day. Wonderful. M encourages me to buy something, but the only things I really want are all too impractical to carry with us - ceramic, glass, large... I do LUST after the vases, which are square or rectangular blocks of glass, with a vase shape carved inside them and given a frosted finish. Completely impractical - heavy, breakable, expensive and foolish. DAMN.

We went back on the bus, had a quick dinner, and then packed furiously, ready for an early start to take the train to Freiburg, where I am looking forward so much to seeing my family.

During the night I suffer two severe asthma attacks - they’ve been on the increase for a week or so.. in the morning I drag myself out of bed, sweating and shaking. I try going through the usual ‘there, there, you’ll survive’ morning routine - shower, unguents, coffee... but I nearly collapse in the shower, I’m so hot (and yes, I did turn the water temp down to nearly goosebump levels); I can’t face the coffee for fear of nausea; I try to put on some clothes and my hands are shaking.. at this point I have to say to M that I don’t think I can make it. We indulge in a bit of swearing, crying and hand-holding, then he shapes up in his usual uber-wonderful way and begins to be very practical about what must be done.

I take a bucket of oral steroids - my only alternative at this stage. I *could* ring an ambulance; or try to see the doctor, but the thought of negotiating the medical system in a foreign country (and in spite of our unnecessary fears in Russa) is simply too much, I ache to just lie down and shut my eyes. And shake quietly to myself with a teddy bear nearby.

M speaks immediately to the hotel ppl and they quickly confirm we can keep the room. Then when he is certain that I’m stable for now, and don’t want him to try to get onto the doc, he goes to the nearest big train station (at the Zoo, if you want to know) and for a very small fee, only a few euros, is able to transfer our tickets to tomorrow’s train. Phew. He’s back quicky, with today’s English papers. I’m out to it, I vaguely hear the door open, next thing I know it’s three hours later and I’m awake looking for a puffer and thanking the goddesses that I can stay quietly, safely and near medical help if I need it. I nearly made it onto that train, what finished me off was the fear of having a huge attack while travelling and having NO help to hand, and my only option being to get off at some random town/city and go through the exhausting business of hospital/doctor/hotel etc etc. Not a happy thought.

~~~~~~
I’m writing this bit on Wednesday, on the train, having benefitted enormously from the rest and the onset of the drugs. I’ll still have to take it quietly, and see a doc in Freiburg, but there we have the advantage of knowing that my sis-in-law has a good doc - we saw her last time when I’d hurt my back - and generally being in the bosom of the family and with native speakers who know the ‘system’. Saves a LOT of time, that does.

M also benefitted from the rest yesterday - after he’d returned from fixing the tickets he slept as well, saying he’d needed to catch up. So there was a silver lining. We even tottered out, just across the road to the good Italian restaurant, knowing that I could get ‘safe’ food - ie food that wouldn’t have crunchy bits or chilli or rice, these being things which can catch in my throat and set off more koffing. M said I was just trying to even up the odds, after his Russian drama. Huh. I have NO desire to spend 5 days in hospital anywhere, thank you. I’ve done quite enough of THAT!

I *have* wondered if we were foolish to take on this trip. The triumph (or blindness) of hope over experience. And I have also wondered if we should keep going, especially in the last three weeks. It’s been hard yakka, first with M’s illness and recovery; then my gradual descent into throat virus/sinus/asthma problems. I don’t have an easy answer - at what point does one give up? Not just give up the money, but the people; the places; the hopes and expectations; the unexpected excitements and the unpredictable events... I guess if M’s Russian doktors had said ‘ze liver she is shotsky’ we might have pulled the plug and retreated to excellent Australian medical care. Ditto if I ended up in a similar state and a white-coat pointed out that asthma stressors riddled our proposed pathway.. for now, we’ll carry on, and I expect we’ll finish. We’ve made it (in half an hour) to family territory. From here we can get back to Helsinki easily, no more long train trips. The only part I could happily ditch is the 5 days in Seoul, staying instead one night, then flying on through another overnight stop in HK and thence to Sydney. I predict crying when we land there.

Let’s hope Seoul is spiffy enough to cause some excitement. Let’s hope Seoul has some fabric! I have totally failed to find textiles of practically any kind, unless you all want shawls. The end of summer fashions sales are at full pitch, but high end designer duds are not what I see my friends and family wearing. Unless you are all secretly decked out in Stella and Chanel and YSL and I just think you’ve done the ironing for once...

I gotta go, it’s almost time to start heaving luggage down from the racks and lining up at the door to leap off - we have a whole 2 minutes to de-train in Freiburg before this extremely nice new and well-staffed German train departs. We enjoyed the dining-car - full service! The only train trip where we’ve had such a thing; the rest of the trains have only had a sort of kiosk, sometimes with no tables and chairs.

Fleeing..

~~~~~~~~~~~
9:21pm, Freiburg, safe and delighted in the bosom of the family.

We arrived, de-trained easily, and were met by three beautiful women - my sis-in-law (my OTHER sis-in-law, who is easily as lovely) - and two of her daughters; the eldest who is 16 going on 21 and gorgeous and elegant and unspoiled, and her youngest daughter, who is therefore (counts on fingers.... ) nearly 13, ah yes, she told me we’re missing her birthday by only a few days. She is still round-faced and goofy and is SO like her daddy (MY youngest brother, got that?). We had a rousing family dinner, special south German food - spaetzle with onions, schnitzel, salad, and then apple and plum strudel. NOM. All home-cooked and such a welcome change from restaurant food. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve eaten plenty of really wonderful things (and, that reminds me, the blog is overdue for a food run-down, I’ll get onto that), but nothing beats real food.

Now I am exhausted, slightly wheezy, incredibly thankful for the quick effect of the steroids which is the only reason I’ve been able to make this trip today. And in the hands of some pretty special peoples. I said over dinner something I’ve not wanted to mention, although purrhaps it’s been obvious to you readers out there? - if we hadn’t been coming to see our family, I think I would have said to Michael after Riga - let’s just go home. Just STOP with all this half-alive, worried about poor health, too tired to enjoy things, fed up with different languages, etc etc. - all the things which should make travelling worth it have been making think it’s not enough, because of my dang busted body. So.

Today brought to you by ICE (Inter-City-Express), a wonderful husband who knows just when to say the encouraging things, and my dear German family. There’s a bit of ‘Enjoy’ in there but it can hardly compete with such earthly ravishments.

Thursday 18th September

Oh my oh my oh my... the BEST day. Slept in, read books, went up to the family for a late lunch and stayed until now (10.30pm). Talked, drank buckets of coffee, went for a long walk, more walking, hugging girlies and teasing girlies and watching tv and drinking more coffee and singing and eating and making plans.... bliss. Just... BLISS. No hunter-gathering, no organising, no timetables or taxis or decisions.

And! the plans we have are all for ordinary things - going out to buy nice things for me to cook tomorrow night, sorting out a concert for Saturday night, going on Sunday to Mass to hear the girlies sing with their choir; my cousin Sarah coming from Basel for the day. We’ll definitely stay an extra day here, therefore reducing our planned time in Frankfurt from 2 days to one. Easy. Wonderful. A very fine way to finish our holiday on a high, oh such a lovely high note, and face the business of getting home. This is better. We must remember this for our next trip - if our shares don’t plummet in value and all the airlines in the world stop flying and we can’t sail cos they got no fuel either and no-one can row that far...

We’ll see.

Today brought to you by Fair Trade coffee, eau-de-gorgeousgirls, and a little bit of Gucci just for fun.

Friday, Kirkenes, Olympic-madness-starts day...

Final day of shipping, a nice thing to be back on land.. nothing moving around wherever you look.

We’re staying at the Rica Hotel, Kirkenes, very nice. DAMN expensive, $A80 per head for a buffet dinner - a very NICE buffet dinner, but sheesh! We have a big room, and a big bathroom. The usual book-in time, we were told, is 3pm. Given that we arrived at 10am, the day was looking a bit stressful - Kirkenes isn’t a throbbing heart of any kind. But M, ever resourceful, took to the young reception person and said “Oh but is there any chance of booking in a bit earlier, my wife isn’t feeling very well”. Heh. This must be the ONLY upside of my nose being my nose. So after waiting a discreet few minutes for other ship-departing comrades to clear the room, we quietly came up in the lift to our room. Wonders. A proper bed. A bathroom big enough for a bath! And walking room. The boutique nature of the ship’s cabin was fun, but we did find it tricky to do things like get dressed, without giving each other a black eye with an inadvertent elbow or somesuch. Here we’ve spread out as much as we dare, not fully unpacking for only a night, but being able to stash things without having to be neat and tidy. Enough with Virgotude!

We spent some time writing notes and letters, then went out to find the post office and try to get rid of some loot. Success again - all posting done, 8 parcels winging their way to Australia, arriving in about 7 days according to the very efficient Norsk post office person .. we had a great time packing post office bags, finding post codes and thinking of all the ppl we were sending to.. a nice feeling.

After the post office fix, we had lunch at a Bakeri and Konditori - ham and cheese sammos and coffee. The service was very interesting - lots of extremely blonde, ice-eyed waitresses (and customers - a boy about 8 years old with white hair - not an albino, because he had darker eyebrows and eyelashes), but the coffee took until we’d eaten to be served. And our lattes were extremely hot. I carried mine over to the counter to add some cold milk, and managed to tip the whole beautiful thing over. Yeah, me a bit tired. What with the late night, early morning, unnatural activity before normal corpse-reviving time, and the excitement of being on land again, I was clearly not myself. The coffee (a whole tall glass of it) went EVERYWHERE - all down the counter, across the floor, across my clean, brand new daks, ditto shoes and socks. Bugger.

But this is a testament to Australian wool, because I was able to wipe down my daks, shoes, socks and not a mark left on them (thanks also to my darling dorter for the many layers of water/soil proofing on my shoes, it worked!). The staff were very kind, not only mopping up the mess but making me a free new coffee. After this the only possible thing to do was to have a sleep.

I resumed the day at about 5.30... only to read, have dinner, and find some pretty amazing things on tv - like, oh I’d forgotten totally (no newspapers remember?) that today the Olympics begin. We watched the opening ceremony for about 3 minutes, only enough to see the official opening words. Then M insisted we move channels, too much Party propaganda for him. I channel-surfed and found, ye gods! an Ozzie drama, Colin Friels et al in a cop thriller. So while I’ve been engaging in other soothing personal activities (cutting my fringe, drinking cold gin, repacking my cases to fit more in - not actually impossible, so ner to all you cynics out there) I’ve been able to enjoy some Aussie logic, accent, bullshit, cynicism and humour. Wonderful! Now M has shut himself into the bathroom to read because he can’t cope with the tv sound. I’d better give it up.

Tomorrow we turn south, crossing into Finland and heading, via a scenic tour, to Inari, where we will stay the night. I think it’s another Rica group hotel, although I do hope it’s cheaper than this one - as you know I have no problem with luxury, but if I’d known the buffet was so expensive I’d probably have bought bananas, bread and cheese at the ICA (IGA in Norsk, stands for Independent Coop Association I think)... or at least tried to eat my head off. We had that amazingly huge and wonderful seafood feast on the ship last night, so I just couldn’t fang this one. Best item? - there were two: sun-dried tomatoes; and a sort of fish cake, more like a fish ball a la Vietnamese soup, but as wide in diameter as a slice of orange, served with brown gravy. Very tasty. As was the very large chicken drum and breast - a Viking-sized chicken, but moist and tender. So perhaps I have just described why this buffet cost as much as it did. The array of fresh salad served with it was good too. I didn’t dare look at the desserts, temptation is too hard.

Tomorrow, ze bus. Today brought to you by what I believe was a lot of nice Gucci (I have no sense of smell atm), latte floor-wash in the Konditori, and a fresh Norsk cinnamon/sugar bun. Nom.

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I was reading ze brochure about Kirkenes and this remote area of the world. This area was formerly known as ‘Lappland’, now known as the homeland of the Sami people, who speak a dialect of Norwegian which has more in common with Finnish than any other language. M described as a language/dialect which started out the same 2,000 years ago but took a turn sideways. I can imagine that! And, we are further east than Cairo. Even thinking about the curvature of the earth leaning up to the North Pole, it’s a long way further east than I would have guessed. We are really travelling! Yesterday we passed a whole lot of ‘north’ markers - the largest northern town, the most northern island of Norway, etc etc. Even the northern-most port, although I am confused about that, because I know ships can get to Greenland, and Iceland, places like that, which I am guessing cover more northern territory. Perhaps it’s all related to this warm Gulf Stream, and the ports are described as such because boats can get into them all through the year, not just for a few days in mid-’summer’. [Speaking of which, a balmy summer’s day in Kirkenes on 8th August is 8 degrees with a brisk cool wind. Mum this is where you should move to when the summer gets too much at home.]

Last night on M/S Polarlys, sailing to Kirkenes

We’ve had a pretty good last day - quite a few highlights in one day, altho I didn’t think it would work out that way - I didn’t sleep well, and after getting up for breakfast (firmly taken behind dark glasses) I went back to sleep until lunch time. M was meantime sailing happily into Honnigsvard, where he went exploring for the usual - post office, newspapers, etc. We lunched on board and then set out together, first to the post office, to send 4kg of stuff home - another accumulation of newspaper cuttings, brochures, acquired goodies, unneeded clothes and sundry bits and pieces which, three weeks into this trip, I know now for sure I won’t need.

Our next stop was at the local gift and wool/fabric emporium! The women there (we forgot to ask her name, I’m sorry, she was so helpful and friendly) performed a vital task and finished the translation of my little Norwegian knitting project. It was something to see - she and M bent over the bench while I went fossicking for more products! He took excellent notes, and with my knowledge of knitting terminology in English (‘knit one; purl two’), her ability to turn Norsk into Southsk, and M’s quick research-writer note-taking, we soon had the task done.

I found many wonderful things in this shop - gifts, knitting wools, glass beads, bobbles, fabric, etc etc. I bought quite a bit of stuff, and we realised as we carried the bag back to the boat that I had pretty much replaced the entire 4 kg of stuff we’d posted home. Oh well .. tomorrow in Kirkenes there will be another entirely efficient Norsk post office and I can spend as many hours as I like (and as it will take) sending lots of little parcels to my dear ones. [Tomorrow goes like this: we have already taken our 4 main cases to the drop-off place on the ship, from whence they will be de-boated onto the bus into town. We will then dump them (and as much hand luggage as we can) at the hotel, and take off to the post office. The remainder of the day as it comes. Then on Saturday morning, late-ish, we get on a bus to Inari, and repeat but without the boat. And, perhaps, without 4 more kg of stuff. But no promises!]

We sailed from Honnigsvard at about 4pm - we both immediately had a good Net fix, altho I ran out of time for poor old T and S because of needing to send purrsonal emails. That done (eeeeeek my family are emailing me about Christmas! I am in DENIAL about that) M returned panting from an info session about leaving the boat, to tell me we had two deadlines to meet if we wanted maximum help with suitcases. At this point we were sailing through open sea on a windy afternoon, so we spent quite a funny couple of hours falling over while we tried to encourage our possessions to telescope back into our bags. Not helped by me doing another presto vwala with the outgoing vs incoming - I went up to the gift shop to get stamps and post a last lot of cards (for franking on board) and while I was there I ahem oops seemed to leave with a number of things in pockets equalling or possibly overtaking the weight and dimensions of what I’d posted. Sighh .. I am a consumer, not always happily, but if I explain that one of these things was a cat, would you furgive me???? I hope so. She is a very nice little green glass cat with rather wonderful reflective green glass triangular eyes. You DO see how I couldn’t resist?

And, once again, the time slipped away with no mark, because there is no night as such this far north in the summer (the barely 9 degrees with a howling wind off the sea summer!). M had to drag me away from finishing our laundry, so we could go to dinner. It was a seafood feast, to mark the end of the voyage north for all the passengers; to farewell those sturdy souls taking to the land; and (I presume) to stun the return passengers into a calorific daze so they don’t feel like the trip home is the same again backwards. Even the captain made an appearance, so we were informed. But I am very peeved to report that he didn’t come to OUR table to say hello. Maybe we weren’t consuming enough Aquavit for only another umpty kroners per teaspoon ... the seafood feast was just that, a huge buffet of wonderfully fresh designer goodies - salmon done three different ways, crab, prawns, lobster, filled crab shells, ‘Light’ fish (which Steve warned us is always described as ‘an acquired taste’, which to all of us translates as ‘don’t feed to a dead dog’).. as well as reindeer stew (tasted like beef strog to me), umpteen veggies with cream, and the usual array of rich sauces and salad creams. As the boat was still in open sea, the sight of dozens of passengers simultaneously trying to cram their plates and stay standing was most amusing. I ended up with three bits of damage - a little American lady attacked my wrist with the lettuce servers, I fell off my left foot and nearly dropped my plate, and a hefty Norsk elbow rearranged my right boob for me, en passant. I thought it had been quite well-behaved lately, so I guess it’s a good thing it was taken care of...

Everyone at our table ate very well, everyone also had a big bowl of dessert, well for heaven’s sake there was creme caramel again, as well as chocolate mousse, fresh icecream, apple cake, redcurrant and blueberry compote and other bad, bad things. Served with 3-pint jugs of fruit jus, pouring cream and maple srrp. I had a bit of nearly everything, with a bit of nearly everything on top. It was fabulous. And yes I did also have blackcurrant jelly with cream at lunchtime, so ner. Be jealous!

At about 11pm the M/S ? passed us on the return voyage. There was much hooting and camera flashes and flapping of banners over the side of the other boat. I don’t know how many on this boat went out to wave back. It was a fine sight to see ourselves sailing away in the other direction - the M/S ? is exactly the same shape etc as this ship. We could see them for some time in the fading grey rainy light, a liner in full flight does kind of stick out on a grey sea and sky background. I thought it was magnificent. Very quick though... I tried to take some photos but I think they’ll be poor quality because of me being on the inside of a double-glazed window. But anyway, THAT’S what WE look like!

Now it is 11.30pm, purrfectly light outside (the type of grey light you get on a fairly rainy day, which it is - I can’t speculate on the amount of sunshine you might see because it’s been grey and squally since Tuesday afternoon); M has taken our cases away, and our cabin looks anonymous again without all our interesting stuff everywhere. I will have to leave behind the beautiful red roses, even I can’t think of a way to manage them as hand luggage for three days. We’ve had a most fascinating time doing this cruise, learned a lot of things, and seen some sights I could never have dreamed of. Successful all round, and most instructive as to what we might change if we did something like it again.

What would I do differently? Mostly I’d go somewhere warm, so I could spend a lot more time outside on the boat. It’s been far too cold to do more than nip out, try to suck in a breath of cold air untainted by cigarette smoke, and nip back inside again. The vacuum-sealed nature of the common areas has bothered me; I have literally popped my ears a couple of times when the pressure has felt odd. So, yes, I think I can’t claim to have fulfilled a long-held fantasy of lying around on a deck chair while a nice purser with tanned legs brings me a margarita on the half-hou, until I roll off... I’d perhaps try to find a cruise where water wasn’t treated as such a luxury item. Even for water-wise Aussies, having to pay for ordinary drinking water when you are surrounded by bloody vats of the stuff just lying around waiting to be filtered, is a bit of an insult. And the price-hiking of booze annoys me a bit... it costs several crucial limbs to pay for the cruise anyway!

The coffee-deal would have impressed me if the standard of coffee had been better. The coffee WAS filter coffee, always pretty fresh, but why why WHY was fresh milk only available at breakfast for the cereal? The ship certainly took on and off many tonnes of goods at every port, including French people, so why don’t they supply fresh milk? They can’t claim to be too far from civilisation when they can produce fresh tropical fruit every day. Tsk tsk Hurtigruten. I tried the non coffee-deal coffee twice - I saw ppl drinking espresso so I thought I’d cough up for a latte. But that came out of an instant latte machine - once again, fresh coffee, but with an auto-milk-frother, so you got the latte made as a milk-coffee mix. NOT the same. Fresh milk I think, but auto-frothed. This all affects the flavour, which is what I’m really going on about.

The final minor key for me was the row of silent, unmoving grey nomads in the Observation Lounge - all the way up at the top and front of the ship, their chairs set in a row as close to the windows as they could get. And so they sat, hour after hour, day after day, watching water moving towards them. A lot of the time they were asleep. This afternoon when I went up there briefly to knit, I swear about 10 ppl in a row were a neat line of motionless, sleeping heads. Missing it all... people didn’t seem to be very keen on interaction; unless they were sticking to fellow countrymen. I vote the Norwegians as the happiest travellers, even the somewhat irritating fellow up there this arvo, who kept whistling the same bit of Don Giovanni thru his teeth while I was trying to count my rows. The Germans seemed to be having the least fun; looking dour and never cracking a smile. The Americans, in my extremely jaundiced view, were feeling ripped off because it wasn’t exclusive enough. The other poxy passengers weren’t dressing for dinner, or being suitable impressed by being in their august company, and as for the food! No poptarts! No plain green salad! And ‘soss’ on everything. Not good enough. The British? I put them in two groups - the ppl we got to know at our fixed seating lunch and dinner table - we made a hearty group and much jollity was experienced. Other (generally more elderly) English people seemed to be a bit lost - they were wearing their special ‘touring trousers’, ‘holiday boots’, and matching marital backpacks, but they didn’t seem to quite know what to do and where to go. As for the French, they were harmless enough .... Madame la maman could have washed her hair last week, and Papa le comic didn’t share the child-minding enough for my liberal views, but the little boy was charmant.

Enough. T and S was always intended as an opinion-venting outlet, but enough! I must sleep so I can get up too early for my liking and hump bloody plastic bags full of STUFF around at unnatural hours of the day. And possibly suffer for a while before I can get a cup of coffee the way I really like it. But that won’t kill me. Meantime, today brought to you by eau de very fresh sea wind, that wet-fresh smell of just-washed cotton clothes, and a blast of Gucci across the prawns. And I must quote Nigel, who described Troll Fiord as ‘a wet cul-de-sac at midnight’. That’s how to kill poetry!