The Yellow Book

As can be seen on this picture right there, a lot of food was bought for the trip to Lagganlia. I'm not sure if I've written about this before, but Lagganlia is situated in a remote valley, and the closest grocery store is more than an hour away. Therefore we had to bring all the food with us from the city. And those bags on the picture contain only a part of that food! Anyway, we all split up in four groups, each one to make dinner (or, as some said, tea) one night. Or day, rather - it was supposed to be ready at about 6 PM. Ever tried making dinner for 20 people? It's a lot. The groups were simply the rooms - there were four rooms, and I was in a room with 5 other girls, and we cooked on Friday night. The group that cooked on Wednesday, our first night, made maccaroni and cheese, only there wasn't any maccaroni, so they used pasta instead. This was the first time ever I tasted that dish. Since there were 20 of us, the cooks melted a huge saucepan-ful of cheese to pour over our plates, pasta to the brims of course (the cooks served the food - everybody queued by the cooker where they stood with their ladles and spoons). I don't think anybody actually finished their meal - not that it tasted bad or anything, there was just so much pasta on our plates. My group made baked potatoes and salad on Friday - only since not everybody eats all the vegetables, they were simply chopped and then one type put on its own plate. Since there were 6 of us cooking, we all took care of separate things - like it was Anna who artfully cooked the potatoes, after receiving some help which she didn't really need. I fried some mushrooms - I love them! - and chopped some tomatoes. Friday night was really fun. At about 9 pm, most of the girls went down to the river, by which there is a stone beach. Earlier that day a few of us had gone down there and collected some wood and branches to make a small camp fire, and there was already a small stone hearth on the beach. So later that night they went down to light the fire, and about an hour later I, along with the other few girls who had been too lazy to go earlier, followed. The girls had brought some food, juice, and best of all, marshmallows. Since this was a special occasion, I roasted a couple of those for myself on a branch. It was just so tasty and fun! As the light waned spirits waxed and songs were sung - songs that everybody knew, like Disney songs and Bohemian Rhapsody. Then there were some that I'd never heard before, but everybody else had, and then there was I Saw a Bird. I'm actually not sure if the song is called that; I assume it's actually the kind of song that's only sung by a group of people sitting by a camp fire late at night. So one girl would sing "I saw a bird" and everybody else would repeat the line, with exactly the same flourishes to the melody as she had. Then she would sing "with/it had a yellow bill (group repeats). It landed on (group repeats) my window sill (group repeats). I coaxed it in (group repeats)" and then she would improvise - what she would coax the bird in with and then what she'd do with it. And of course it had to rhyme. Usually it involved something gross, like: "I coaxed it in (repeat) with a bit of bean (repeat) and put it in (repeat) my washing machine (repeat)!" And of course this produced lots of laughter, but the next girl then had to start the next verse right after. It was real fun.

At midnight, we counted down from 10, when we thought it was about 10 seconds to Saturday, and then Hannah and Katy, whose 18th birthday was on Saturday, popped open a big bottle of bubbly champagne in celebration. After everybody had had a glass of champagne or orange juice, people were getting pretty tired, and went back to the lodge. Unfortunately, we only had one little torch, which Issy kindly used to light the path for everybody - we had to walk up a steep hill from the beach and then through a small bit of the woods. When we got back, some people went to bed, completely worn out, but some stayed up watching The Beach in black and white. I did so, but I was lying on a couch, so as to see better up on the tv-screen, and after about a half hour I fell asleep and woke up with a start at ten to two AM, and went to sleep in my own bed.

Well, I gotta go home for dinner! I'll write more in a week, when I'm back from Belgium!

QotD: Zelda: "Famine... pestulance... war. War! I like it!"

Sabrina: "When did you become a Republican?" -Sabrina, the Teenage Witch

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 17:01:-

Friday, June 23, 2006

It was SO good!

Friday June 16. Clouds. Rain. Gorge walking. Sounds good, eh? It was, actually. I was among the ten girls who went gorge walking, proteted, helped and taught by 64-year-old Roger (if you read the previous post, you should remember him) and young, red-haired Gordon. OK, so this activity involves walking along a tiny path on some mountain to this river-ish, waterfall-ish rocky and steep ravine, a.k.a. a gorge (the word "duh" comes to mind) wearing longjohn-esque fleece trousers and a jumper made of the same fabric, and waterproof trousers and anorak over. This also includes a helmet and light but not-so-waterproof walking shoes. Well, had I seen a picture of people gorge walking - and actually known that it's called that - before I decided to do it, I never would have. Decided to go, I mean. You see, being a non-native English-speaker, I wasn't quite sure what the word "gorge" meant. I don't know what I did think it meant, except that it had something to do with mountains, that much I gathered. I have seen pictures without knowing what this activity is called. And every time I see such a picture, I've thought, "Oh my God, I could never do this!" Climbing up a mountain via steep, slippery rocks, in a shallow river/waterfall, sometimes with

the help of a rope Roger had already fastened somewhere above the little cliff or whatever it was we needed a rope to climb - I'd have been much too afraid of slipping and falling. And I did, actually, a couple of times! But it wasn't bad or anything; the most harm it did to me was that I got soaking wet. This was because I was holding onto a rope, so it was okay! When we arrived at the place where we would begin climbing and I realised what gorge walking actually meant, I was terrified. However, I put on a brave face and showed only as little apprehension as the others. That feeling quickly went away, though. After the first rope-climbing and I was literally swimming in my shoes, in ice-cold water no less, I saw that it wasn't horrifying at all - it was fun and exciting! And we didn't really have to worry about slipping and falling to our deaths down a rocky, watery hill; we had Roger and Gordon, two experienced gorge walkers to look after us! I knew beforehand that it would be wet abd no place for technical gadgets, so I didn't bring my camera. One of the Hannah's brought hers, though; she wrapped it in a plastic bag and stored it in her rucksack in which she stored the waterproof gear until we went into the river - we all had one. She took a few pictures when we took short breaks, and there was some talk of using the 150 pounds left of the food money to print out selected copies that those who'd brought a camera to Lagganlia for everybody. Occasionally I looked back - down the part of the gorge which we had already climbed, and seeing how high it was, I felt a pang of pride! I had actually done this - with the help of ropes and two experienced gorge walkers, sure, but I had! Of course I didn't really have a choice anyway, when we'd already come the whole way to where we would start. I'm glad I did it. Before, when I'd looked at pictures of people gorge walking, I'd thought, "I could never do this; I'd be way too scared," but now I'd gladly go again!

(I would like to point out that the pictures above are NOT from our trip - I found them on the internet, so you who don't know what gorge walking what it looks like. And just so you know, there was not as much water in the river as in the picture above!)

When we got back to Lagganlia, the soles of my socks were pretty much black, they were so dirty. Before we left, I had decided to bring my knitted hat, in case it would get cold, but I didn't realise that I wouldn't be able to fit it under my helmet, and it was kinda warm outside anyway. Therefore I just put it in my rucksack. When we got back, however, and we were returning all the gear, the hat wasn't there! It turned out that it must have fallen out when I was taking the waterproof outfit out of the rucksack. Well, I thought; I've had this hat forever - it's about time I get rid of it. I told Roger about the hat, though, when he saw my worried expression and asked if there was anything wrong. When I had told him, he said he had seen a brown hat on a tree somewhere, but didn't know who it belonged to, so he didn't take it. Well then so be it. However, later that day I was inside, when one of the girls came inside, holding her hand out away from her body, and what do you know; she ws holding my hat! And she asked me if that was mine, and I said yes, and she said Roger had brought it. He must have picked it up when he went again there, with another group I assume! Wasn't that nice of him? By Saturday, all us girls agreed that Roger is awesome!
OK, I think this is enough for a while - again I cannot be bothered to write more. But do not fret, I'll tell you more about Lagganlia later, perhaps tonight.

QotD: Angel: "Buffy, careful with this gift. Lots of things that seem strong and good and powerful, they can be painful."

Buffy: "Like, say, immortality?"

Angel: "Exactly. I'm dying to get rid of that."

Buffy: "Funny."

Angel: "I'm a funny guy." - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 11:15:-

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Blood and chocolate

First of all, I must explain the title. Which I guess kind of defeats the purpose of even having a title - the point is that the readers figure the meaning out themselves. However, in this case, I don't think many of you know that there is a book called Blood and Chocolate, and those two words also happen to refer to my five days at Lagganlia. I'll leave the rest of the figuring out to you, my gentle readers.
Last Wednesday, I, along with 19 other girls from '05-'06 sixth year, went to this place in the Highlands, in a remote valley called Glen Feshie, an "outdoor centre" run by the city (Edinburgh i.e.) named Lagganlia. It’s a bit like Vatnaskogur in Iceland. It’s a bunch of lodges which can be rented, housing up to 20 people (maybe more, I'm not sure). There are people who live there - instructors who organise, teach and supervise activities that can be taken part in there - or in the area around Lagganlia, rather. Us S6 girls got to choose two activites - white water rafting and gorge walking. On Thursday we, surprisingly, woke up at around 7:30 AM - without any alarm clock, as far as I know. All I know is that we were supposed to be ready at 9 AM for one of the instructors, Ian, to talk to us about the white water rafting which had been scheduled for us that day. Twenty 17 to 19-year-old girls on holiday waking up by themselves at 7:30 AM? Where I come from, that is not the norm.
Anyway. The sun shone on us on Wednesday and Thursday, suncream/sunscreen/sunblock required. After staking out our places in our lodge - Cearketton Lodge - and the approx. 250 pounds worth of ASDA and Tesco shopping had been put in the cupboards and fridge, we went on an exploratory walk in the woods right behind the lodge. Oh my god, it was soooooo b-e-a-utiful! And silent! Having lived in cities all of my 19 years (well, except for a couple of years in Isafjordur when I was just a toddler so I don't really remember that), I've grown accustomed to the noise and pollution - though there's considerably more of it here in Edinburgh than in Reykjavik - and barely even notice it. But man do I notice the silence and the freshness when I go into the country, and man do I relish it. I took loads of pictures there and during the time we spent there in Lagganlia - 118 in fact, which you can see here. There is a river not far from the area where the lodges are, and in the river there is a sort of a pool, practically completely still - though freezing cold - and ideal for swimming. By that pool there's also a beach, perfect for a little late-night small bonfire get-together. Of course we did both. That is to say, they did both. I refrained from swimming in the pool because I had a cold - still have a bit actually - and I did not want to make it worse by swimming in freezing cold water; after all, I am going to Belgium in less than a week now, where I will be singing with the Senior Vocal Group in a concert, and, well, a cold doesn't make the voice better. Therefore, I played the role of photographer for a couple of the girls this one time when they all went to the pool at the same time. Unfortunately I had left my own camera at the lodge, so I don’t have any pictures from there. Apparently, I took a couple of real good ones, according to the girls for whom I took the pictures. Maybe I should go into photography; it seems like an interesting and fun career, dontcha think?
Anyway. The sun was shining on Thursday as well, as I've mentioned and good thing everybody had some suncream/sunscreen/sunblock because we'd have seen some nasty burns. After Ian had told us about the white water rafting I told him that I had thought it over again and decided that I didn't think I should do this. The day before I had asked him if he thought it would be safe for me, being epileptic and all, and he said it should be fine. However, I think the risk level of having an epileptic seizure is also about a state of mind - for example, if I'm really worried, the barrier might lower. And I didn't want that to happen.

And so Miriam and Anna recruited me as their photographer to take pictures of them as they all came to the finish point in the river Spey (oh how funny it would be if the "e" would be an "a"...), where I'd be waiting . When they were preparing for the short lesson in rafting, I accompanied the only female instructor, Nicole, in one of the two vans - the other one was driven by the 64-year-old Roger - driving to the place where the finish point was, which happened to be by a distillery called Tamduh (if my memory serves me right). There they parked the wagon on which the rafts were stored on the way from and to Lagganlia, and Roger pointed me in the direction of a really beautiful path along the river, along which I could walk. Old train tracks had used to be there, and Roger told me that if I'd, and I quote, "persevere", I'd get down to the river, and I could walk back along it. There was a loop in the river, he said, so for a while I probably wouldn't be able to see it. Knowing that I would have about two hours until the others would be back, I set off with three cameras, including mine, in my bag, next to a bottle of water, two sandwiches and sunblock. Gosh how beautiful this was, and every 30 seconds I just had to stop to take pictures. I didn't see the river. The weather was so incredible - the sun was so hot and so bright (dictionary definition) that I had to wear my sunglasses and take the straps of my top off my shoulders si I wouldn't get even more of a farmer's tan. Thankfully my top was so tight that it didn't fall down though I took down the straps, and I didn't even need to wear a bra. Anyway. I walked for about 45-50 minutes, and though I could see the river, I didn't see that the path would lead down to it any time soon, and calculating that it would take me longer to walk back along the river on account of the loop should the path lead to the river, I decided to turn around and just go sit and read my Meg Cabot paperback, Size 12 Is Not Fat, by the river at the finish point. However, walking back I saw that I had passed not only one but two gates which opened the wired fence which separated the path from the field between it and the river. I decided to go check it out, opened the gate and ran down the short hill and started towards the river. Baaad idea. The field was ridden with these plants with thorns, and thinking back to The Mediator book 2 or 3, I was afraid it might be poison ivy. Not to mention that it kinda hurt as the thorns scraped my bare legs - I was wearing knee-length jeans. However, I also knew that The Mediator books take place in Northern California, USA, and it was highly unlikely that the vegetation here was the same as there. So I decided, since I had already made it this far, to stick it out and weave my way to the river. But there was no stone beach by the river as I had expected, just a bank with some trees; and there was even another wired fence there! I climbed over it and walked for about one minute when I came to this small stream, which was wide enough, though, that it there was a possibility of slipping off the rocks that could have been used as stepping stones and thereby getting my feet and shoes wet. Not something I desired. So I decided to just go back up to the train tracks and hurry the same way back. I came to the finish point before the others arrived, so I could sit on a rock for ra while and read, until I could see a raft in the distance, which was when I started snapping away.

Did I write about the TV already? There was no TV reception in Lagganlia, but there was a VCR, and some girls had brought loads of videos, which we watched every day. I think we watched seven or even eight films, five of which I had seen before - Notting Hill, Save the Last Dance, 10 Things I Hate About You, Moulin Rouge! and Mulan. The TV was broken somehow, so it wasn't in colour. That's right. We watched seven or eight films in balck and white. It was interesting - it actually made Moulin Rouge! seem more romantic, though the colours in that film are very important to the whole look and representation of this part of Paris in 1900. I think I'm gonna have to watch Life as a House and The Beach again in colour - the latter portraying such beautiful places which are prettier in colour (obviously! blue sky, white sand, green trees). And speaking of Moulin Rouge!: Miriam said, and got one of the Hannah's to agree with her, that I remided her of Nicole Kidman. Excuse me? ME? NICOLE KIDMAN? But mind you - she didn't say I looked like her; I just reminded her of Ms Kidman. Which is completely not understandable, but totally flattering. So I just said, "I don't get it, but thanks."

Oh my god. I promised myself that I was not going to write an essay on every single thing that happened, like I did about the London weekend trip. And still I managed to do so, and only about one day and a bit more. I will not go this deeply into the rest of the holiday. Promise! But now it's late and I cannot be bothered to make this post even longer.

Oh, and to let you in on the relevance of the post title, since I haven't written about that: blood because I started my period the very last day - it was lucky I brought a pack of pads! I wasn't planning on, since my cycle usually starts at the very end of the month. But you never know. Chocolate because there was soooo much chocolate around me the whole time, and especially on Saturday, when Hannah and Katy had their 18th birthday parties - the big kitchen table was laden with goodies, mostly chocolaty goodies. I had one slice of birthday cake - it was a special occasion after all!

Right then. Good night y'all.

QotD: Honey: "William just turned down Anna Scott."

Spike: "You daft prick!" - Notting Hill

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 17:19:-

Monday, June 12, 2006

Realisation

For over ten months I have regularly shopped at the local co-op, ScotMid, and there's this one elderly lady that works as a cashier there sometimes. And she always looked soooo familiar to me, but I just couldn't figure out whom she reminded me of. Today I realised. She looks just like the old Looney Tunes lady - Granny - who owns Sylvester the "Puddytat" and Tweety the bird! Except she hasn't got white hair; it's brown, but I bet she dyes it...

That's all folks!

QotD: Giles: "Bay City Rollers. Now, that's music."
Buffy: "I didn't hear that" - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 17:06:-

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Cancel

Well, I got a call from the woman for whom I was supposed to babysit tonight; she and her friend decided not to go out tonight after all. So I guess I can really spread out and take advantage of the empty apartment. Yay!
The weather is so incredibly right now that it is unbelievable. Sunny and 17-25 degrees today according to the forecast. It's been like this the whole week, except for yesterday. Yesterday it was foggy and sometimes rather cold. The weather here is more unpredictable than in Iceland, and that is saying something! Actually, it was, as it turned out, a good thing that the sun didn't shine and boil us yesterday, because the whole of next year's S6 class (well, those who bothered to turn up!) went for a "sponsored walk". We were supposed to collect money from sponsors to donate to Zwelibanzi High School in South Africa, which I think I've written about before. I think most people - as far as I know - couldn't be bothered to find sponsors and just donated themselves and perhaps from their parents. I found three very reliable and generous sponsors (I think): mom, Bjorgvin and myself. Together we donated 20 pounds. Anyway. We walked for more than an hour and a half, 6 miles (which my maths whiz bro has calculated is a little more than 9 km) to some place called Colinton, which is withing the city limits, kinda close in fact, but it's a wooded area and pretty much like the genuine countryside! I had no idea where we were going, or how long it would take, so I was kind of surprised when, after walking past this nice canal for about 40 minutes I think, we ended up walking through woods. It was nice. There was a river, and bridges, and obviously trees, and paths. I wore my old 6-year-old Adidas trainers, which are comfortable therefore great for a six mile walk. However, the heels (on the back of the shoes, not on the soles) are sort of worn out (well, the soles are actually, but that's got nothing to do with this...) and after about half an hour I had a little bleeding sore on my left heel. I was forced to ask Mr Ferguson, who was carrying an emergency kit, for a couple of plasters. But unfortunately, the glue on the one on my left heel didn't stick well enough, so I was always having to stop to fix it. Well, when we were about half-way through the woods, I had to stop, and as I had stopped so many times, I had fallen back a little bit. A large gap had formed between the group at the front and the bigger group that was walking behind, and the girl I was walking with and I were at the front of the second half. Suddenly we were at a junktion, and the group in the front was nowhere to be seen. We were lost. We had no idea which way to go, and we just had to improvise and go whichever way we thought could be the right way. Kinda funny, when you think about it. Suddenly, we had arrived at our destination, the mausoleum of James Gillespie, the guy who founded the school a couple of hundred years ago. And the first group wasn't there yet! Hah! Unknowingly, we had many times chosen out of three or even four other junktions the right way which happened to be a shortcut! Neat. There we had lunch, and after we had eaten we all went our separate ways; we could choose whether we walked the same way back or just around the corner to take a bus. Me and a couple of other girls considered walking back together, but after much contemplation decided it was too crazy and took a bus instead. Unfortunately, we had just missed the right bus, and had to wait half an hour for the next one. Eventually, I was home at about 2:30 PM. I was so tired that I had to take a bath, and I almost fell asleep, it was so cozy.
Well then, I suppose this is enough for now. I can't stay inside when the weather is this great.
More later,
much love,
Trina.

QotD: "Oy with the poodles already!" - Lorelai, Gilmore Girls

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 13:57:-

Friday, June 09, 2006

The Babysitter Club

Ach, I've got stuff to say, but I'm too lazy to write about it. What I can be bothered to write, though, is that I am turning into a professional babysitter. I added another family to my list of customers last night. Now I've got one regular, and 4 occasional. Although this means fattening my wallet, I am a weak person. I may have written before that I've got the weekend all to myself, because mom, Bjorgvin and Sigrun Ugla are in London. I was kind of looking forward to having the whole apartment all to myself tomorrow night, but the fool that I am simply cannot say no. You see, I've promised to babysit tomorrow night, as well. And I've just been babysitting tonight (although Friday nights are regular). So I've at least got Sunday night, until the old set and the wee one come home, probably rather late, as the plane is scheduled to take off from London after dinner time. So yay.
Oh well. It's not like these kids are uncontrollable or something - they're actually the sweetest and best kids to babysit ever. So I guess I'm lucky, right?
Good night then.
More later,
much love,
Trina.

QotD: Willow: Happy hunting.
Buffy: Wish me monsters. - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 22:29:-

So photogenic

And this is the living room. Sigrun Ugla is as you can see in the middle of this picture; she was out of the frame when I was getting ready to take it, telling mom and Bjorgvin to look at me, and she came rushing into the middle, making sure she was also in the picture! She is such a model.

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 22:26:-

Here are some pictures from the West End apartment we're living in at the moment. These two are my bedroom; you'l

l notice the mirror closet

right beside my bed .

QotD: Cordelia: "Xander, I know how you take pride in being the voice of the common wuss, but the truth is certain people are entitled to special privileges. They're called winners. That's the way the world works."
Xander: "What about that nutty 'all men are created equal' thing?"
Cordelia: "Propaganda spouted out by the ugly and less deserving."
Xander: "I think that was Lincoln."
Cordelia: "Ugh, disgusting mole and stupid hat."
Willow: "Actually, it was Jefferson."
Cordelia: "Kept slaves, remember?" - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 22:01:-

Monday, June 05, 2006

A few good songs

Moving to the West End apartment took the whole of yesterday. After Bjorgvin got back from Glasgow driving his mother, Sigrun snr, to the airport to go back to Iceland, the moving of boxes and stuff from our home (for now it really is home sweet home) to the car started. Considering that this new apartment has most of the things needed in everyday life, mom packed a surprising amount - aside from clothes and all that of course. True, we had to bring bowls, glasses and small plates, not to mention the small amount of food that was in the fridge and the cupboards, but the rest of the kitchen stuff also had to be boxed, seeing as how some of the kitchen cupboards are going to be replaced. Anyways. It took three rides to move the stuff - boxes, suitcases, television, DVD-player and VCR, and a desk - and I came along to help in the first two. That meant carrying boxes up and down a flight of stairs (both apartments are on the first floor, thankfully not higher), and though it wasn't a lot, it got hard for me. Especially since the day before I had sprained my right upper arm (at least I think that's what happened) when I was trying to lift Matti's old, heavy television, which I am now using while mine is broken, by myself, and therefore I could only hold lighter things with that arm. I may have shed a few grams dragging myself up and down those stairs. Actually, since Easter I have shed about 4-5 kilograms, simply by cutting off sugar. This leads me to seriously reconsider my sweets-eating habits. I think I may even have dropped a clothes size - I used to wear two sizes, depending on the garment and store, but mostly the larger one; now I seem to be fitting better into the smaller one.
But I digress. More about the new place. Did I mention that it's really "posh"? It's kind of like a hotel apartment - it doesn't really look "lived-in". It's actually owned by the owner of Ryden Lettings, so I think it's just the type that's let for a month or two at a time, to tourists and the like. The building actually has a sign above the main door that says "(Insert street name) Mansions"! So, yeah, it's posh. The hallway and living room have parquet on the floor, something I haven't seen in a home in a loooong time; the bedrooms are gargantuan (excluding mine…); the living room looks like a sample room in a furniture store; there are two bathrooms, one of which I get to use for my stuff, unlike at home, where I've got one tiny shelf; but the kitchen is so tiny that it barely fits two people. Needless to say, we eat in the living room, on a glass table actually. Clearly this place was not furnished with children in mind… My bedroom is completely white - the only thing that isn't white is the carpet, which is blue, and the closet, which has mirror doors. And it's big. Seriously - I can watch myself sleep. Or, you know, about to go to sleep, because obviously I can't actually see myself while I'm asleep. I've got two beds, which are side by side, so it's like a double bed. I can really spread out! I've never had a double bed all to myself before (or at all really; the only times I've slept in a bigger bed than 90x200 are when I was little and I got to sleep in bed with mom when I was ill or something, and also this one time when I was alone at home. But that's it) and it's so great. I can actually sleep even diagonally, if I feel like it.
For some time I can, intermittently, connect to an unsecure wireless network here (I’m tapping ino someone else's internet access!) and I am posting this while doing so.

As I write this, I am importing to my iTunes library a few songs - or I guess music pieces they are called - of the classical genre; the CD is called Baroque Masterpieces and it belongs to either one of the other adults in my household. The pieces I'm importing are by Pachelbel, Bach and Handel, and are quite beautiful - but then again, what else can you expect of classical music? Actually, I haven't listened to classical, instrumental music with real interest since I was practicing playing the violin, when I was 8-10 years old, and even then I only listened because I felt obliged to like it. All my relatives just automatically assumed I loved it and gave me CDs with music by Mozart and Beethoven and such, and I listened to them because I thought if I listened enough, I'd end up really loving the music. I liked it, of course - it is beautiful, but not to the extent that I really, really appreciated hearing such exquisite sounds produced by only instruments. Well, once, my dad brought me a CD called "My Roots Are Showing" from Canada (if I remember correctly) which has Cape Breton fiddle music played by this Canadian fiddler called Natalie MacMaster who is of Scottish descent (hence the title of the CD) and this music I listened to for hours on end, while I read Jostein Gaarder's The Solitaire Mystery. Now, this kind of music, and that particular CD, always has connotations of that book for me. Listening to instrumental music is way better to read to than music which has singing, because I tend to pause to listen to the lyrics if it's a song I really like. Right now I'm reading Jane Austen's Persuasion, and I really like it - it's like the chick-lit of the early 1800s! - and I'm thinking of finding some CD at home which has classical music written in that period, to listen to while I read it, you know; to get more into the era.
OK, this is turning into another essay, Better save something for next time.
More later,
much love,
Trina.

QotD: "You can argue with a philosopher, but you can't argue with a good song. And I think I've got a few good songs." - Yusuf Islam, formerly known as Cat Stevens

Oh, and by the way: I just watched the season 12 finale of ER, and all I can say is FUCK!!!!!!! WHY THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN? AND WHY DID THEY LEAVE IT LIKE THIS? Talk about a CLIFFHANGER!!!!

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 23:51:-

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Customer Service

Well, it seems that I got some of the info on the new apartment wrong. It is, indeed, not equipped with all the modern conveniences we in the modern world have come to take for granted. Yes, it does have electricity, running water, a washing machine and a gas cooker. It does not, however, have a dishwasher, a clothes line (how can an apartment have a washing machine but not a clothes line?), or, most importantly, a television. Being such a modern and "posh" place, it most probably has an antenna and whatnot - I mean, who can live without television, if only to watch the news??? - so we'll just bring our own television, a DVD player I think and perhaps a VCR. There also happens to be a spare clothes line stand (or whatever it is called) here - as if the three long bamboo poles up by the kitchen ceiling (not near the hole fortunately!) weren't enough - so the lack of one in the other apartment can be dealt with. But. What can not be dealt with is the lack of a dishwasher. Now, for about seven years it has been my job to clean wash up after dinner, and about 6 1/2 of those I have had a dishwasher at my advantage to help with the washing up. Going back to washing up solely manually will be, for me, like being thrown back into the dark ages. Stone age, if you will. But mom said this will call for some mother-daughter bonding, and she will help me be drying up or something. Although I am eternally thankful for this (how long would it take me to wash up and dry up after dinner, and also the crockery and cutlery used throughout the whole day???), it means I won't be able to enjoy myself listening to my iPod and singing along (which I have recently been informed sometimes can be heard in the whole apartment, much to my embarrassment. But I love it too much, so I'm back in the habit already), which I always do when I'm cleaning up; it makes it fun. Because, as anybody sane person my age knows, cleaning and washing up is not really an enjoyable thing.

But I'll live. I won't be there for the whole four weeks (yes, apparently I also got the time wrong - seeing as how the construction workers will work from approx. 8-8:30 to 15:30, five days a week, it will take approx. four weeks) because of all the travelling, and also, mom, BI and SUB are going to London next week to visit BI's friend, his wife and two Russian newly adopted children. I so want to see them too! They're 2 and 4, and from the pictures I've seen, extremely cute. But I guess I'll have to see them some other time. While they are in London, I'll just be at home; I can still sleep here, but I'll just have to buy take out on Saturday and Sunday or eat at the other place. Kolbrun, the woman for whom I babysit has offered me to dine at her place on Friday, before she leaves, which is very nice of her.

Now. I guess it's time to relate to the title of this post. About a week and a half ago, my television-DVD-combo which I bought for 80 pounds last August at Woolworths broke. Today I finally went to Woolworths to ask about where I could get it fixed and if it was under warranty. I had misplaced the receipt and the manual for the TV, so I wasn't sure about either of those things that I had to ask about. I took Sigrun Ugla with me, because the weather was so good and she needed to get out of the house a little bit as well. I walked around for about 10-15 minutes in the store before I saw an employee who wasn't working the register and seemed to be there to help costumers in need. And I asked him. He was relatively friendly - considering the other people I had to talk to, I mean - when he pointed me in the direction of the kiosk marked "Customer Service" and said the manager could help me. And so I went there and said the same things to the assistant manager, whose name, according to the name tag was Ruth. She was in her late forties, early fifties, and apparently thought herself too busy to deal with an obviously under-twenty years old girl with a 2-year-old in a pushchair. But she dragged herself away from whatever crossword she was doing or something like that, and went to get some other employee to help. Of course she didn't say what she was going to do - she just stood up and started walking, and I followed her. When I, a little slowed down by having to push Sigrun's pushchair ahead of me, had reached the aisle in which the television I had bought happened to be, the woman turned around and gestured with her hand that I should wait. And so I waited. It was really warm inside the store - like outside - so I took off my jacket. Underneath the jacket was wearing a top which has a sort of a plunging neckline, i.e.; it reveals some, and is actually excellent for sunbathing and tanning (though I don't tan easily; after an hour in the sun I blush a tiny bit, barely visibly), and excellent in situations like these, when it's extremely warm. Anyway. After about ten minutes the woman returned with some guy, name tagged Shane, who had greasy black hair, lots of black eyeliner and a lipring. He didn't say a single word while the woman asked me again what I needed, and again I explained the situation. She asked me if it was one of the TVs there, and I said yes, it's the silver one (they don't have a big collection of televisions). I asked if she knew if it would be under warranty though I didn't have the receipt, and she dryly told me that the receipt was the warranty. She then said that the booklet that came with the TV, or the box (this was when I reminded her I had got rid of the box by now, seeing as how it was almost a year since I had bought the TV) would have information or an address for where I could get it fixed or get advice - she obviously didn't think this was any of her concern and that my dilemma wasn't worthy of wasting her time. I also told her that I had misplaced the booklet; I had of course looked everywhere for it, and I actually found myself feeling that I owed her an excuse for losing it, and that it was my fault the TV had broke. Sorry, Ruth, but I couldn't help it. This was when she looked at me with a tiny bit of contempt - looked at me up and down and it seemed like she was thinking something along the lines of: "Gosh, no wonder that kid lost this vital information booklet - I can see how she got herself knocked up at 16!" (at this point I feel it necessary to tell first-time readers that I did indeed not get myself knocked up at 16; Sigrun Ugla is my sister). She then told the guy called Shane to go get "this lady" (I swear the contempt shone through in her tone of voice when she said "lady") the booklet so she could see the address, walked back to her kiosk, and Shane nodded and went in the other direction to get that booklet. I, unsure of what I was supposed to do, waited right there and talked a little to Sigrun Ugla, until Shane got back with the booklet and nodded in the direction of the kiosk, and I understood that I should follow him there. And there Ruth and he opened the plastic vase in which the booklet was, found whatever they were looking for and wrote "Technical Support" and a phone number on a receipt-type slip of paper, and Ruth grumplily handed it to me, probably relieved that she was finally rid of this childish teenage mother who didn't even think to keep the manual to a fool-proof television. I must mention that none of the employees I talked to even cracked a smile or tried to be friendly (except for that first guy, but I repeat: relatively) to me, but before I left, I smiled in apology and said twice "Thank you very much", trying to be a little polite and make them perhaps think that I really had needed help and wasn't there purely to waste their precious time. They didn't say anything - come to think of it, I don't think they even acknowledged that I had said anything at all. Maybe they didn't hear me, and if that is the case, I don't care very much. The "Customer Service" desk? Might just as well be "Customer Disservice".

But in spite of this unpleasant interaction with Woolworths staff not keen to help, I did at least get a phone number to call. When I told mom and BI about this, BI said he might just as well take a look at the TV himself - he used to work as a television repair man - but if he had done that before I'd asked about the warranty and if it were indeed under warranty, getting it repaired at the cost of the store might have been a problem, since there might have been one condition that the TV had not been touched by somebody else. Hopefully this will turn out well. Pray for us, won't you? :)

Well. This might be the last entry I post for a few days, but I definitely will have one or two ready for the next time I'll get internet connection!

That's all folks.

QotD: Piper: "We went, we saw, we didn't quite conquer." - Charmed

UPDATE: Mom and BI just came back from looking better at the apartment and moving desks and stuff over there, and they informed me that there is a dishwasher there - it was just hidden inside a kitchen cupboard. Oh well. There goes the mother-daughter bonding.

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 23:11:-

Thursday, June 01, 2006

My 19th birthday yesterday will not be briefed in this post

Well, it looks like we are moving out for three weeks, after all. For a while we thought that the kitchen would just be fixed while we were in Iceland, but now a change of plan has been presented. On Sunday we will clear out what we need for the next three weeks or so - or at least for one week, since we'll still have the keys to our house and apartment, so it's open to us at all times. Which is good, because although the West End apartment we'll be living in has most of the modern luxuries we have come to take for granted, including a television, cooker, washing machine, electricity etc, it does not have in internet. Therefore, expect less frequent blogging - I will probably just write posts in a Word document (conveniently, I've got a laptop which I can take anywhere, and I am not going to leave it here, among fishy construction workers) and then pop by at home some evening/-s to post them on the blog. And of course to get some of my necessary regular dose of internet surfing, e-mail checking, money-transferring and such. I think in a way, this will be a good thing. Though I'll have to take a bus to school (those ten days which I will go) it might turn out to be a sort of an internet-detox; I'll see how much time I've wasted doing nothing in particular, and I'll have more time to read! Yes! And if I'll get some homework, I can do it without constantly having the temptation of a wireless internet connection right in front of me. Yes. This is a good thing.

Mom went to a meeting for the parents of those going on the music trip to Belgium tonight (the meeting was tonight that is, the music trip peeps will depart on Sunday 25th of June), and among other things she got the itiniery for the trip. Of course I will keep a detailed diary so I can tell you all about all the fun and amazing things we will do, but there's one thing I wanna tell you now. We'll take an overnight ferry from Hull, which is in the North of England, to Zeebrugge, and from there we'll take a coach to Ghent. On Sunday the 25th of June, the coach which will take us from here to Hull will depart at 1000 hours, and arrive in Hull at about 1700 hours. SHITE! SEVEN hours of driving. The only times I've endured that long a drive have been when I've driven from Reykjavik to Isafjordur/Isafjordur to Reykjavik with my family (on or the other - in some cases it involved getting as sick of each other as possible, sitting in that tiny space), and that doesn't even take that long. This one time, even, when I was driving with my uncle and his family from Thingeyri to Reykjavik, it took us four hours. Mainly because it was late at night and because he was driving this huge jeep and was going, like, 100+ km/hrs. It felt like we were flying - and not because we were going so fast; this was an incredibly comfortable jeep, not tiny at all.

Well, this seven-hour coach drive will probably be exhausting and tiresome; 40 or 50-something 15-19-year-olds (OK, so I'm the only 19-year-old...) on a coach together... you do the math. I'll probably bring two paperbacks - or one long one. Maybe Mansfield Park. It's 479 pages, and the font is minuscule. Obviously we'll stop to eat a couple of times, I assume, because everybody will be forbidden to carry any food, because there's one kid who's fatally allergic to fruit and some other stuff, and if he even breathes in some fruit or whatever, he might have a heartattack. Or this is the impression mom got when this was being explained. I'm fine with this - the amount of luggage we'll be allowed to bring is limited enough without stuffing snacks for the journey into it as well. Because of the limited space for luggage on the bus, we've been asked to pack our stuff in rucksacks, so they can be stored on the shelves above the seats. I've already asked BI if I can borrow his sports bag - though it's not a rucksack, it's not too big to fit in that space. My problem will just be figuring out how to stuff my stuff (haha!) into this bag. OK, this is only five days and I won't need anything else than clothes (including the school uniform for the concert, I assume), toiletries, hairbrush, the small pair of black shoes which is easy to stuff in anywhere, to wear with the uniform, and a book, which I can easily fit into my shoulderbag, along with my mobile, wallet, iPod (5 days without music? I think not!) and lipbalm-gloss. You know, the stuff I carry everywhere I go, except for keys. Or maybe I will need keys. I'm not sure if mom will pick me up at school when we arrive at approx. 1330 hours or not; I don't know if our apartment will be ready to be lived in 24/7 by then.

But I digress.

Ooh, one more thing before I Publish Post: I went shopping with mother today, and I bought knee-long jeans (totally comfy and cool) and bought one black top and one black square-neck top at Dorothy Perkins, and mother bought herself two tops there as well, and also the very same square-neck top as I bought. Same colour and size! Is this frightening? That my mother and I use about the same clothes size? I guess not - her top fits her a bit tighter than mine. And the size I use vary from fabric to fabric, shop to shop, type to type. Same with her.

Ah well. the quote of the day is not from a TV show or a movie; it is something my (former) Media Studies said a few weeks ago:

QotD: Ms Conroy: "Is Porno good? [...] that's not a question you hear your teacher ask very often, is it?"

OK, the thing is, we were talking about Trainspotting the book, and the sequel which is called Porno. What also cracks me up, though, is that she used the word "often". Like it would happen sometimes that a teacher asks if porno is good!!!

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 20:06:-