Mirthful

Well, it’s getting closer, anyway. So here we go:

Dear Santa,

2009 has been pretty good. The shrub is no longer the leader of the (western?) world and I’m pretty happy with the way the elections turned out over here as well. Still, we’re hardly living in an ideal world yet, so there are a few things you may consider putting some effort into in the run-up to Christmas (and if you have to make it next Christmas, don’t worry, I realise there aren’t that many shopping days left before this one). As for me, well, I think I’ve been pretty good. But I’ll work on doing better, too, don’t worry. Anyway, here are a few things that would make my eyes sparkle (and who doesn’t like sparkly eyes?) this Christmas:

1. Peace on earth.

2. Any or all of the gadgets I’m drooling over at the moment: A new laptop, a mini laptop (Eee or similar), a Kindle.

3. An Overlock. Like this one. Or one of the Husqvarna Huskylocks they have here.

4. Health and longevity for my nearest and dearest and for the following authors/artists (and any others I may have forgotten): Robin Hobb, J.K. Rowling, Stephen Fry, Jo Nesbø, Ole Paus, Bjørn Eidsvåg, Alanis Morisette, Michael Wiehe, Michael Parkinson, Håkon Gullvåg, Lillebjørn Nilsen, Neil Gaiman, Bill Bryson, India Knight, Kate Atkinson, Bob Dylan, Jasper Fforde and the Top Gear guys. 

5. Accessories for the MUM6.

6. Anything from Gaver med mening, Gaver som forandrer verden, Oxfam unwrapped (look, you can buy “me” schoolbooks!) and similar sites. 

7. Non-stop (though perhaps not quite as many as last year…).

8. Some energy and wherewithall to start the house-selling-buying-moving process.

9. The Sandman books

 And for the lass, who really has been good, not just pretty:

1. Jigsaw puzzles of 8 pieces and upwards (the sky’s the limit, she’ll grow into them eventually).

2. Good books (but check with us first, we have quite a few – understatement of the year).

3. DVDs: Disney, old children’s tv shows and newer ones like Tony Ross’ Little Princess, Postman Pat, Thomas the Tank Engine, Kipper and others of the same ilk (check what we already have).

4. Listen and read combination things – those books with the story on CD – if they still exist?

5. Doll’s clothes (pretty much any size doll) – hand made if you do that sort of thing.

 (For reference, previous years: 2002 2003 2005 2006  2007 2008)

…is officially here. This morning I had to get the lass out of bed a just a tad earlier than usual and when we went to the bathroom to change she pointed at the window:

“Oj, mørt! Vart’ta sola hæn?”

(”Hey, dark! Where did the sun go?”)

What? What do you mean I’m too old for a birthday wishlist? I’m only 13! No, wait, ok, I’m uhm, 2009 minus 1974 that’s, uhm, 35. Ok, so I’m half-way to seventy. What do you care? It’s a good age. And I like presents.

To get on with it:

1. An Overlock. Like this one. Or one of the Husqvarna Huskylocks they have here.

2. Pop-up books, of the fancy kind, like The Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland by Robert Sabuda, Olive the other Reindeer or ABC3D. And so on. And other things off my Amazon wish-list, naturally.

3. Lego (for preference: “historic” sets and pirates)

4. Stuff for the Bosch (MUM6N22): MUZ6MM3 foodprocessor, MUZ7WS2 Pølsehorn i rustfritt stål, MUZ7NV1 Pasta/Lasagne-munnstykke and MUZ6DS3 snittesett, for a start.

(Because Christmas is all about traditions. 2002 2003 2005 2006  2007 Hm. Did I really miss 2004?)

Dear Santa

I think I’ve been reasonably good this year. I only yelled at someone for being an anti-social idiot once, which is very restrained of me, I think. Considering you came through on that permanent job thing from last year, I don’t really want to ask for much, but there are always things a girl can wish for, right?

1. Peace on Earth. Thanks for sorting out the presidential situation in the States, but we’re still a bit of a way off the target, really. Any progress is appreciated.

2. An Overlock. Like this one. Or one of the Husqvarna Huskylocks they have here.

3. Non Stop. As per usual.

4. Health and longevity for my nearest and dearest and for the following authors/artists (and any others I may have forgotten): Robin Hobb, J.K. Rowling, Stephen Fry, Jo Nesbø, Ole Paus, Bjørn Eidsvåg, Alanis Morisette, Michael Wiehe, Michael Parkinson, Håkon Gullvåg, Rosamunde Pilcher, Bill Bryson, Kate Atkinson, Bob Dylan, Jasper Fforde and the Top Gear guys. You know why.

5. Pondus 8. divisjon, Nemi Skumle damen, Naiv og brutal, Lavmål mot nye høyder, Rex Rudi Go, Cat, Go! og Mperiet slår tilbake.

6. Silicone baking trays, especially for large muffins.

7. A Bosch kitchen machine (MUM6 or MUM8).

8. A couple of 8 gb compact flash cards.

9. Anything from Gaver med mening, Gaver som forandrer verden, Oxfam unwrapped (look, you can buy “me” schoolbooks!) and similar sites would give me warm, fuzzy feelings.

And since she’s too young to write her own list (partly because she can’t spell and partly because she hasn’t quite understood this Christmas-thing yet) and I need somewhere to keep this, here’s the list for the lass:

1. Audiobooks on CD, especially Thorbjørn Egner (all we have so far is De beste Egner-viser/Karius og Baktus).

2. Other CDs for children – good ones, please, that won’t drive her parents bonkers.

3. Listen and read combination things – those books with the story on CD – if they still exist?

4. Jammies. We’re in dire need of more. Size 98/104 centilong.

5. Woolens: Tops and longs/trousers.

6. Good books (but check with us first, we have quite a few – understatement of the year – though not too many for the age she’s at now and a couple of years ahead).

7. DVDs: Disney (check what we already have) and old children’s tv shows.

8. In the Night Garden (Drømmehagen) books and figurines/softies would make her happy, I think.

9. Doll’s clothes (pretty much any size doll) – hand made if you do that sort of thing. Judging from what we’ve seen so far she’s going to be “into” dolls in a major way.

10. Sleigh with steering wheel. What are they called in English? “Rattkjelke”, anyway.

Well, perhaps not exactly, but I feel the need to capture the little everyday stories. The lass is growing so quickly, and I feel like I miss something vital each time I blink…

Jessica Sprague’s Stories in Hand class just finished, and I really enjoyed that. It’s given me lots of prompts for writing down the stories of yesterday – the class is really excellent – and a prod to get the everyday stories down as they happen. However, I know that to achieve the latter I could do with some help.

Along comes the Journal Your Christmas class from Shimelle, and highly recommended several places. So I thought it might be a good start and signed up.

Join me if you like!

Is not something I do well. I’m terrible with money. Ok, not so terrible that I need a tv-team to sort things out for me (well, not yet, anyway), but bad enough. However, I have ambitions, and this is probably a good thing, and to inspire me and perhaps give me a few tips (or a lot of tips), I’ve been subscribing to Simple Mom on Bloglines.

Oh, yeah, I started reading blogs through Bloglines lately. Didn’t I tell you? I love it!

Anyway, Simple Mom is having a giveaway, and we all love giveaways, don’t we? This one is for an Epson do-dah that basically does everything except make the tea. Head over and have a look.

In addition to Bloglines, I also started using Delicious lately, and I can no longer remember whether that was prompted by Simple Mom or whether I suddenly remembered that I’d been meaning to check it out all by myself. In any case, it’s great. I keep bookmarking all sorts of stuff. One day I’lll actually use it to find things I’ve bookmarked, too. Kidding, I already do that. If you’re curious about what I’ve been bookmarking (lots of recipies and digilayouts, basically, as well as a general mish-mash of other stuff), you can find me here. If you use Delicious, too, please add me to your network and share your own finds with me.

So the birthday of the lovely Jamelah (who cracks me up regularly) has come and gone, but I suddenly remembered a rather good travel-related disaster story which I don’t believe I’ve shared here before, so I’m writing it up anyway.

Well, it goes like this: I was in England with my rather lovely husband. In fact, it was our honeymoon. We’d been to Scotland (briefly) and Wales and had stopped by Worthing and were now making our way up around London in order to get to Stanstead for our flights home. The actual flights were two nights away, so we needed to find somewhere – preferably somewhere nice – to stay for the one night and then another, somewhat closer to the airport – our flights were ridiculously early, as flights are – the next night. We’d been driving (rental car) from place to place without pre-booking B&Bs – well, we did phone ahead most places, but it was a case of “have you got a double for tonight” rather than “can you fit us in next June”. It had mostly worked out well, though we sometimes ended up not quite where we originally intended.

Now, as I said, we were circling round London on the eastern side and heading for Essex, unknown country for me, for some reason I’ve never been North East of London much. We settled on Colchester as a likely place to stay for one night, as it was big enough to provide the likelihood of free rooms and good pubs, as well as some sightseeing opportunities. Rather than phone ahead we decided to go the “get the tourist information to book us in” route, which was our first mistake (unless chosing Colchester at all could be considered a mistake, which the following events might suggest to be the case, so go on then, not phoning ahead and trusting to the tourist information was our second mistake. I think. Unless it was the third or fourth or whatever). We found a carpark down by the station somewhere and proceeded on foot to the main centre of town (being taken aback at the first encounter with – presumably – native Colchesterians, a group of four teenagers we met at a little staircase up from the parking lot. The staircase was narrow, and they reached it first, so we stepped aside to let them descend. This they did, and each in turn said “Ta” or “Thank you” as they passed. Catch a Norwegian teenager doing that! I took it as heartening proof that politeness is not quite dead (yet). Anyway, on with the main story…).

After some initial problems of determining what was actually up and down on the tiny map we had of the centre (in the Rough Guide to England, I believe), we found the tourist information. It was stuffed with people. We got to talk to one of the ladies, but she didn’t even want to try booking for us when we couldn’t tell her where we wanted to stay (uhm, I kind of thought her job was to suggest places to us?), but gave us a leaflet with lots of B&Bs and hotels in Colchester and told us to sit down and see if we could find something we liked the look of. So we did, for a little while, then realised we were probably better off in a pub, making the phone calls ourselves, especially since the tourist information was about to close anyway. So we left, and discovered that it had suddenly gone dark outside. Now, in July in England it’s not supposed to be dark at 5 pm. It was. Then it started raining. REALLY raining, not the messing-about-with-a-little-watering-can sot of raing but the throwing-bucketfuls-of-water-at-everyone-and-everything kind of rain. We tried to stand under a portruding roof for a while, but then decided we’d rather be wet and cold and in a pub than slightly less wet, but still cold and outside, so we ran for it. I was so soaked by the time we got to the corner of the block where there was a pub (thanks be) that when I headed to the ladies to try to dry off a bit with some paper towels or something I actually got a laugh from some of the bystanders. Seriously. Think drowned kitten, except not quite as cute.

Incidentally, between the main pub and the ladies there was a little hallway with a door leading out to the beer garden. Outside there was a step up to the main area. Into the basin created between this step and the walls water was pouring from a – presumably defect – drain off the roof. Since the door in to the hallway was open, this is where the water was heading. Heroically – well, I’d just dried off after all – I stepped into the deluge and pulled the door shut (it opened outwards, so you had to step into the deluge to get a grip on it). I then headed back to the ladies for a bit more paper towelling action.

Onwards with the “place to stay” mission: Over a pint or two we started phoning some of the B&Bs in the leaflet, but they were either not answering the phone or all full. The rain eased up a bit and we decided to head back to the car and drive over to one of the areas where there seemed to be a concentration of B&Bs, as in our experience there are usually more than bother to pay for mention in leaflets. So we did. Once we were in the car it started raining again, so we drove around Colchester in the rain, muddling through roundabouts and trying to figure out ways of getting to where we wanted to go through the maze of one-way streets. Finally, we found the road we were looking for. According to the leaflet and the rough guide, there were at least four B&Bs on that road. We didn’t find them. Not one. We’d have been happy to see one with a “No vacancy” sign at that point, quite honestly. The closest we got was a house with the usual credit card stickers in the window, but there was no sign outside and it seemed completely locked up.

Getting increasingly desperate, we tried a couple of the hotels in the leaflet. We normally don’t stay at hotels because they are A. more expensive and B. less personal and interesting. This time we didn’t stay at any because they were full. At this point we started wondering what it was that was so great about Colchester that everybody and his grandma wanted to stay there, but decided, on reflection, that we would rather have a bed than a good time (if, indeed, such were our choices) and to look further afield. So while the husband drove out of Colchester I started phoning B&Bs in nearby, smaller towns. “Sorry, we’re fully booked” became the refrain. Turns out the world and his grandma had invited their friends from outer space and had filled every bed in Essex. The party must have been swinging.

Working my way through the Rough Guide to England with the help of the map, I found a B&B – or a small inn, rather – in Clavering, a village not too far from the main road leading from Colchester to Stanstead and very close to Stanstead. I phoned. Did they have double? Yes, they did. How much was it? 86 pounds a night. A bit stiff, but ok, we’ll take it for tonight, certainly (I don’t think I actually told the guy on the phone that I thought the price a bit stiff, mind you). Fine, when can we expect you? Oh, in about half an hour I should think.

By the time we arrived we’d decided that 86 pounds wasn’t all that stiff and that we’d be thrilled if they would let us stay for two nights. Now, because of the rain and the soaking (remember the rain and the soaking?) we’d been rather wet when we stepped into the car. By this time we had mostly dried up, but not quite. I was wearing a dress in a olive cotton that turned a few shades darker when wet. When soaked from head to toe this wasn’t a problem because the whole dress was still the same colour, but now the only part that hadn’t dried was the part down around my middle that gets squashed when sitting. So I had a big, wet patch in the middle of the front of my dress, looking pretty much exactly as if I’d needed the ladies but hadn’t quite made it. Classy.

The nice gentleman at The Cricketers booked us in for two nights regardless, which just confirms the overall friendliness of the place. See, this is a travel disaster story with a happy ending. Got to love those.

Good things about the Cricketers (because lists are good):

• Heavenly food. Seriously. I thought I might die when I tasted the carrot-and-something puree I got with my meat the first night, it was that good.
• No rain. Well, not inside, anyway.
• Charming, old pub, with beams that warned you when you were too drunk (i.e. you had to duck, if you hit your head, you’ve forgotten, which probably means it’s time to go to bed).
• Food to die for.
• Four poster bed. Which is what every girl wants on her honeymoon, right? Beats sleeping in the car by a long mile.
• Sherry in a decanter in the room. Ok, the sherry was pretty bad, but still.
• Gorgeous food, and it was reasonably cheap, too.
• Complimentary chocolate a-plenty in a bowl in the room.
• Morris dancers outside the pub. Weird stuff, but entertaining.
• Fabulous food.
• Lots of good beer – kept the husband happy.
• And did I mention that the food was really rather good?

Turns out we’ve accidentally ended up in an inn run by Trevor and Sally Oliver. Sound familiar at all? Know where the naked chef learned to love cooking? Yup.

So. There’s your travel disaster story, and there is a bonus: A recommendation. If you’re ever flying out of or in to Stanstead and need somewhere to stay – and have a car or a generous taxi-budget – this is the place. Or if you’re in the area for some other reason. Or, in fact, if you’re not in the area at all but can get yourself there.

That was the commercial break, now back to our regular programming.

Oh, and happy belated birthday, Jamelah.

I guess it’s a natural byproduct of reading foodblogs that your mouth starts watering… A Spoonful of Sugar has done that before and does it again, as well as setting my heart a-racing and my stomach a-fluttering when I think that in a very short while indeed (though not short enough, never that) I will be in Scotland. Yay.

Anyway, on to the British 100, and the rules, should you choose to play along: 1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions. 2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten. 3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.

1. Grey squirrel (they’re the invaders, aren’t they? In that case, I would certainly like to try them.)
2. Steak and kidney pie
3. Bubble and squeak
4. Spotted dick (must be doused in proper custard)
5. Hot cross buns
6. Laver bread
7. Toad in the hole
8. Shepherds pie AND cottage pie
9. Scotch egg (being the scottophile that I am, I really should try them, shouldn’t I?)
10. Parkin (I beg your pardon? Ah, I might just have tried it, but I’m not sure.)
11. Welsh rarebit
12. Jellied eels (Uhm. No, I don’t think so.)
13. Stilton 
14. Marmite (And didn’t I wish I hadn’t)
15. Ploughman’s lunch
16. Cucumber sandwiches
17. Coronation chicken 
18. Gloucester old spot (not knowingly, anyway)
19. Cornish pasty (Love it, love it. love it! Still have plans to try making my own.)
20. Samphire
21. Mince pies
22. Winkles
23. Salad cream
24. Malt loaf 
25. Haggis (Mmmmmmmmmmm)
26. Beans on toast
27. Cornish clotted cream tea
28. Pickled egg 
29. Pork scratchings
30. Pork pie
31. Black pudding
32. Patum Peperium or Gentleman’s relish
33. Earl grey tea
34. Elvers
35. HP Sauce (not a fan, though, but the husband is)
36. Potted shrimps
37. Stinking bishop (the pear or the cheese? I’d try either or both)
38. Elderflower cordial 
39. Pea and ham soup (I don’t like peas, so that’s a bit of a non-starter)
40. Aberdeen Angus Beef
41. Lemon posset
42. Guinness  (Why is Guinness on a British 100?)
43. Cumberland sausage
44. Native oysters (Not keen on trying oysters, native or otherwise)
45. A ‘full English’ 
46. Cockles
47. Faggots
48. Eccles cake
49. Potted Cromer crab
50. Trifle
51. Stargazy pie
52. English mustard
53. Christmas pudding
54. Cullen skink
55. Liver and bacon with onions
56. Wood pigeon
57. Branston pickle
58. Oxtail soup
59. Piccalilli
60. Sorrel
62. Chicken tikka masala
63. Deep fried Mars Bar 
64. Fish, chips and mushy peas (though I normally pass on the peas, but I have tried them)
65. Pie and mash with liquor
66. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding
67. Pickled onions
68. Cock-a-leekie soup
69. Rabbit and Hare
70. Bread sauce 
71. Cauliflower cheese
72. Crumpets
73. Rice pudding 
74. Bread and butter pudding
75. Bakewell tart
76. Kendall mint cake
77. Summer pudding
78. Lancashire hot pot
79. Beef Wellington 
80. Eton mess
81. Neeps and tatties
82. Pimm’s
83. Scampi
84. Mint sauce (And staying away from it thenceforth)
85. English strawberries and cream
86. Isle of Wight garlic
87. Mutton
88. Deep fried whitebait with tartare sauce
89. Angels on horseback
90. Omelette Arnold Bennett
91. Devilled kidneys
92. Partridge and pheasant
93. Stew and dumplings
94. Arbroath smokies
95. Oyster loaves 
96. Sloe gin
97. Damson jam
98. Soda bread
99. Quince jelly
100. Afternoon tea at the Ritz (on my list of things to do)

The Trondheim Martna has just come and gone. It’s a good source for amusement, especially if your idea of amusement is all the weird and wonderful products people come up with to try to get other people to fork over money. Also, because of the influx of “professional” stall holders from all over, its a good source of Engrish.

This has to be my all time favourite.  “Are you always the odd one out? Do you long to be one of the crowd, just another pink fluff oh-look-at-my-fake-disney-princess-phone girls? Then Blandness Girl is the brand for you!”

At the next stall they had Benign Girl. “Oh, you are so benign!” may not the compliment of every girl’s dream, but it has to be better than “Oh, you are so bland” any day. Still, we were amused.

1. A priceworthy way to spend three months. (Via)

They have gone as far as correcting graffiti.

I have been tempted. Sorely tempted.

2. One of my coworkers is 40 today. Some of our colleagues have filled his office with approximately a gazillion balloons. Every now and then one of the balloons expire with a loud bang, making everyone nearby jump. My desk is nearby. I suspect I will do my share of jumping for a whole year by the time today is over.