Gunnar Rasmussens Hjemmeside

A day of many activities. Visit by technician to fix defect dishwasher, repair of garden gate, general cleanup, weeding cracks between tiles at the entrance, trimming of grass edges, vacuuming the whole house, bed-making of the entire bedroom, washing one dog that had rolled in something "unmentionable", and finally transport of caravan to workshop. The latter should be explained.
During my participation in Congress for Website Owners (see yesterday's diary), we stayed with 8 friends at a caravan site up north. Matron and I arrived last.
Immediately at our arrival all 8 were there kindly offering to help pushing the caravan in place. With an elegant gesture, I rejected their help. I have since we met last, invested in a "mover", a built in motor with a battery that makes the caravan move all by itself controlled by a remote control.

And there I stood, remote control safely in my hand. I pressed "RUN", and what happened? Not a thing, not the least. The caravan just stood there like frozen. It was degrading, one can even say humiliating. Nothing worked. Fortunately there were 8 helpers to push.

That is the simple explanation why I took our caravan to the workshop.

Arriving there I was told that unfortunately they had fitted the mover with a false battery which of course would be changed. But the shame is still there.

I know very well that I have failed writing my diary since Friday 25th of May.
It has its causes.
I have been away participating in the annual congress of site-owners. Took place in a northern province in the country.
And I must tell you that I was harshly blamed for my neglect of the missing diaries. None of my many colleagues failed to keep their web pages updated during the annual congress. I did.
So my colleagues fell over me with a layer of verbal beatings that I have not previously experienced. I was called several things. The mildest one was, "Stupid pig."
I had to solemnly swear that this neglect would never happen again. I swore.

I have learned - as time goes by - that breaks become a bigger and bigger part of my life.
I must have a break when mowing our lawn which in total takes 1 hour.
I must have a break while cycling, about one per 10-12 km.
I must have a break when sweeping our tiles.
I must have a break when digging for more than 15 minutes at the time.
I must have a break when cleaning my bike/car.
I must have a break, nearly no matter what I'm doing. However I have not yet reached the point where
I must have a break when I eat or drink. It will provbably come.
Fortunately, I have benefited greatly from the many breaks between all the breaks.

Today's diary has the same theme as yesterday but with a different background. It has nothing to do with indications, but with a direct approach to the matter.
At 8 sharp this morning while I stille dozed, I sensed great unrest in the kitchen regions, and suddenly Matron came running into the bedroom shouting, "There is something moving in our utility room. It is in the waste bag, or perhaps in the barrel with dog food." Before I had time to think what she meant, my quilt disappeared over my innocent body.
It was in fact a bit "spooky" because we had ordered the rat man to come today and inspect a few holes in the garden. So ?????
Having gathered all my courage I went to the utility room just to find that a tiny sparrow struggled around behind the barrel. I opened the door to the garden and 'voila' it was outside with its friends.
On my way back to bed the message was: "You'd best get up now." I did,

The art of indicating is an art form that some people master to perfection.
Matron could be one of them.
Kl. 8.54 she arrived in our bedroom where I was gradually waking up. Quietly she began taking off the cover of the duvet and pillow on her own bed. I felt that an indication had been sent that now it was time for me to get up.
But I thought she was only indicating so I pretended to sleep on.
But now indications became violent and no longer a piece of art. In a jiffy my duvet was away and the cover was removed. I asked the good lady if she was indicating that I ought to get up.
Since my pillow was violently removed from under my innocent head I was totally aware that this was exactly what she meant.
I got up with an indication that I was not completely happy with life.

I got a bright idea. For too long weeds and moss have dominated all joints in our garden tiles, and although we bought a special tool to remove it, it's stille much too difficult.
And here my good idea comes in. Use the high pressure washer, full power and then spray weeds and moss up and away and after that sprinkle new sand. Good theory.
And up came all the "ugly" things mixed with mud and sand. For reasons unknown, it all sprayed backwards, so before long I had mud all over my front.
Embarrassed, I had to announce to Matron that my attempt in a way succeeded on the two sqm. I had cleaned, but I did not believe that the washer was the solution to all 175 sqm. A quick look at me convinced her.

I have given myself a a very relaxing day after yesterday's excesses.
I vacuumed a bit, I swept a bit, and I have hoed and counted my potatoes.
Anyone with the slightest sense of the latter will know that only very few and only the very best potato growers will have 100% of their plants coming up.
I planted 26 plants, and could now establish that they were all present and correct.
From now on I shall rejoice in making them happy, talking nicely to them, hatch a little and keep an adequate amount of soil up around the base of the plant, and just today I read that there is almost nothing so nice as to harvest & eat your own potatoes.

Thus encouraged, I shall go on "spoiling" my potatoes.

Riding mortally exhausted on my bike on the road en route to some friends' house for lunch I suddenly found it absolutely necessary, because of the strenuous efforts, to conclude on my life. I was sure that I was getting near to my very last moment and this despite the fact that I had purchased and consumed a Danish of significant size and a Coca Cola, two topics that I normally do not consume. But my sugar percentage was so low that it was necessary.
I concluded on my life that I've been lucky. A wonderful wife, wonderful children, in-laws and grandchildren, good friends, all in all a life more on the plus side than on the minus side.
And if it were to be, what would be more appropriate than dieing on my bike at Mols, where I've biked so much and on top of the bargain on a sunny day in May.
Thus prepared, to my great surprise, I discovered that I was not dead on arrival at our friends' house. Even more surprisingly, I was still conscious enough to enjoy a really good lunch.
But it was lucky, I should not ride home. Matron arrived in our car and let me hook the bike on the back of the car.

Never ever in my long biking career have I been so worn out.

It came to me almost like a revelation, a heavenly Heureka.
I was sent to the supermarket for some small items while Matron brought town center and my Visa Card in danger. She was with son, daughter-in-law, and Frederik.
Suddenly when arriving at the supermarket I realized when I got out of the car why I always immediately put both hands on my back and obtain a slightly bent position.
The reason is obvious.

If I do not put my hands as described they would hang straight down, and I would - with my slightly curved back and arms hanging vertically - remind most of all of an orangutan on a city tour.
I think it feels nice for me to have solved this issue. I have often wondered about it.
Anyway. Who would like to look like an orangutan - apart from orangutans of course?

My life - as well as everyone else's - consists of eternal situations when I have to decide on something. All the time there are existential decisions.
Today for example I once again had two choices:

1) I could mow the lawn or

2) I could go for a bike ride.
Under normal circumstances (i.e. not too long ago) I would without hesitation choose number 2.
But I'm no longer so sure that I have the power for a "regular" bike ride. So with a heavy heart, I had to choose the lawn mower and not the bike.

Mowing was certainly hard enough in itself. Fortunately as a reward, I became very popular with Matron, and that was worth it all.
But I have to get up on that bike again, MUST, MUST, MUST.

"Travelling is living," said Hans Christian Andersen, our famous fairytale writer who travelled all over Europe. A lot of people agree with him. I also did once. These days I prefer shorter travels and have no desire to visit far away and exotic places.
AND STILL.
There is this one particular trip I could wish for. A ride on the Orient Express.
I just read today that in april 2013, this prestigious train will make its only third visit to Denmark. The event is part of a train ride from Stockholm to Venice with stop in Copenhagen. I'd like to join. However, in the article the writer has carefully chosen not to tell what a ticket costs. I dare not even guess at it. But I certainly would like to be one of the passengers.

Washing a dog is a "laborious" task that is now and then required. Fortunately not often.
For some time Matron and her humble servant talked about it. We ought to to have it done quickly. But always something unexpected prevented us. The phone started ringing, then the mailbox had to be emptied, and then we had to brush our teeth. Constantly such events postponed the dog wash.
But today it was done.

Eldest son happened to be here when our two dogs came back from their daily walk with our neighbor. She could tell that one dog had rolled in something not very nice. Now there was no pardon. A thorough wash was necessary.
But fortunately we two seniors were saved the trouble. Eldest son took charge, and in no time both dogs were thoroughly washed. What a relief.

It is good to have children.

I took grandchild Kristian to his asthma- and allergy expert today. Unfortunately he suffers from both.

He was going to have his lounges tested by blowing into some machine and also he had to endure 7 minutes of running at the top of his speed on a treadmill.

I watched him all the 7 minutes and encouraged him. And was he good. He just kept running. I couldn't help thinking what would have happened had it been I who was to run for 7 minutes full speed.

First of all I would never survive and secondly if I did want to survive it would have to be in a speed that I decided. Kristian couldn't decide this. It was all controlled by a nurse.

We shall now wait for the final results to see if his medication should be changed.

But at any case it was very nice being with him nearly the whole morning.

To the right Jørgen Maibom on the day of liberation, 5th May 1945.

When I attended training college in the early 1960s, I was fortunate enough to have several good teachers. But one was special. He was my English teacher, Jørgen Maibom.
He was an outstanding man, a more than usually skilful teacher, approachable, helpful, caring, always open to debate. I do not think I can find enough superlatives for this wonderful man.
A few days ago I recieved new information about him on "FB Silkeborg". I read that during the occupation he was a very active resistance fighter who participated in many risky sabotage actions. I didn't know that.
It makes him even greater in my eyes.
He is the best teacher I've met in my life and a fantastic human being.

At 7.45 this morning my night's sleep abruptly ended. Cynically Matron pulled the duvet off me and announced that I had to get up. I had never guessed if she had not said it.

The theme was elaborated with the information that we were to accompany daughter and grandson to Grenaa, to queu up at a supermarket to buy a computer screen at an extremely reasonable price. We knew that there were only 3 screens for sale, so a tactic was agreed. The sweet grandchild had to find his way to the front of the queu and right at the opening sprint wildly to the computer department and snatch one of the three. He is quick, knew the tactics well, so triumphantly he could capture a screen.
This pleased granddad very much but what followed did not. About 1½ hours matron and daughter strolled round the store and managed to purchase a huge stack of goods. Never have I seen such an overloaded trolley. It felt like 1½ days.

In a break in her efforts to keep me working full time Matron announced that she wanted to go down and count all the potatoes in our potato fields.
She came back with news that 15 plants had honored us with their arrival. 11 remain to show up.
But it might surprise that on the bag of seed potatoes that we bought it said that it was an "early" species.
They were planted on March 21st so they've had plenty of time to grow large, but a look at the photo shows it's not exactly the adjective one would use about them - neither "early".
But as agrarian one must come to terms with conditions given and rely on the EU-subsidies to compensate for a late and possibly poor harvest.

This is something I really like, really, really - and my bank account likes it too.
A happy event occurred in the north of Jutland. Today they sell diesel (and petrol) at 1 krone per liter, yes, you saw right, 1 Danish krone for 1 liter of Far Eastern petrol/diesel. Well, it is not possible to get at that price the whole day, only 1-2 hours around noon. But anyway. It is fantastic. See photo.
Strong rumors will know that the same event will take place in or around Aarhus in a near future. And it is more than hinted that in Lystrup, only a couple of miles from where we live0 ,you ought to keep your eyes open for low petrol/diesel prices I can hardly wait to queu up for a "refill". You do not believe your own eyes when seen prices like these. They are roughly the same as in the early 1960s, the good old days.

Today is historically an important day. You might like to know why.

It is exactly 72 years since Winston Churchhill was appointed prime minister in England (1940). He succeeded Neville Chamberlain who was overthrown because of the failure of British efforts in Norway where first an occupation and afterwards a liberation had failed.

I think that the importance of this change saved the world a lot of trouble - even if it was bad enough as it was.

I just thought that you foreigners might like to see Aarhus when it is most beautiful and appreciate that sunshine is not totally unknown.

Picture taken by the river on bike ride May 2nd.

Shall be looking forward to taking more in a hopefully warm and sunny summer.

Just now nothing indicates that it will be, it is cold and wet.

Medical history, part 2 (at least as dramatic as Part 1):
Yesterday a lot of pain and great physical discomfort, prevented me from eating an otherwise exquisite evening meal including barbecued sirloin (can it get worse?). My pain did not disappear with the use of a heating pad and several painkillers. Only when I grabbed my last lifeline, taking a "dum-dum bullet" of a painkiller, of which I had a few left over from when my finger was out of joint last year, I felt better, even a lot better. My pain disappeared. Was I thankful?

Whether it was this "heavy" tablet or the many wishes for a speedy recovery I felt were sent to me, I could not tell. Most important was that I got better.
After a good night's sleep I woke up this morning with all intentions of physical activity - completely on my own initiative.
But then I got a bad stomach ache. It is only disappeared just nowe around 3.30 pm. after having taken yet another "dum-dum bullet."
And what can we learn from all this? Well, take a "dum-dum-bullet" when it hurts.

Hopefully this concludes my medical record for this time.

Brace yourself for a medical history of the painful kind.
I woke up this morning with a chock, as eldest son with horn and loud singimg woke me up. A poor start to any day. My first observation was - besides the infernal noise - that I had a back pain.
The lawn was mowed. It did not help.
I watched the Giro d'Italia on TV. It did not help either, on the contrary the pain increased.
After a heated sprint at the end of the race, with an ugly mass crash, I had to get up to transport all the borrowed tables and chairs back after the many festivities. And I must tell you that this getting up made the pain increase. It hurt so bad that I was close to fainting. But tables and chairs had to be moved. And they were.
So now I sit here after having taken two painkillers and with our electric heating pad on my back.

Hopefully it helps. Wish me a speedy recovery, please.

Two days in succession with the Giro d'Italia on TV is not a bit too much, and I am delighted also to be ready tomorrow - and all the following days.
Today the tour among others went through our favourite holiday town Lemvig, and it was nice this way to revisit the beautiful town at the Limfjord. It made me look even more forward to this year's summer holidays. It was also interesting that the hills which made Lemvig the place with today's mountain sprint are the hills that I many times have climbed on my trusty bike.
At once Matron sent out a statement that I surely did not ride up with the same speed as the peleton did. I had to correct the sweet lady. I remember that I used about the same time.

But why did she have to mention it?

When you are no longer able to qualify for the big bike races, you have to do with watching them on TV, for example the Giro d'Italia and the Tour de France.
I had until last Wednesday expected to be involved in today's time trial at the Giro in Herning, only 90 kilometers from here. But last Wednesday's pathetic result on my ride to and from Aarhus, when all my power left me after 30 kilometers convinced me that I'm not ready.

So I have sent apologies that I shall not participate. Instead I will take a casual, half lying, half sitting position in my molded couch and watch it all on TV.

I still love watching bike races.

Kristian making his speech thanking everybody.

If there is something, we are good at in our family it is celebrating confirmations, one last Sunday Cecilie) and one today (Kristian).
We had a wonderful day today with a lot of festivity and appropriate ceremony, and just before we left Kristian told me that he thought he had had a perfect day. Nothing could please an aging granddad more.
In addition the food and drink were excellent, so everybody can see that all the ingredients for a smashing confirmation were there.
We shall now hope that we do not forget how to celebrate confirmation. There will be 14 years till the next one (Frederik).

Unfortunately, I never quite reached to the bottom of the question of why it is a heart that is used as a peephole in a privy. The best answer I received is that the heart signals a "secret" room.
But here comes the next question, an existential one:
Why is it that a bike ALWAYS has its front sprocket, chain and rear sprocket of the right side of the bike?
And as far as I know it has always been like that.
Surely no one has never seen a bike with the chain on the left side?
Is there perhaps a reason for it? Is it for practical reasons? If so, which?
Should anyone know the answer, I would really like you to pass it on to me.
Write in "Letterbox" or send an e-mail at: gr@surfmail.dk
Thank you in advance from the old and curious man.

PS: I am really looking forward to Kristian's comfirmation tomorrow.

My first ride this year in shorts and T-shirt. The sun baked my on my well shaped legs and the center of Aarhus got the pleasure of my beautiful presence.
Unfortunately it is becoming typical for my bike rides that I have to take breaks, today among others at the town square and at Aarhus River.
I am afraid that I have reached the point where I must realize that I have to get off my bike and pushl up when it comes to longer and steeper hills (Today there were none of them, though).
On the whole my trip today was so hard (36 km.) that I sat in all my pain and considered stopping cycling. But having returned and having had a nice shower, I think I need to go on. I shall have to do with shorter rides. My dream of riding up Alp d'Huez is no longer current.

Haven't we all at some point during our childhood been very much tempted to run away from stupid and ignorant parents who seemed not to care the slightest little bit about you, who irritated you and who made false accusations.
Yes, parents could be a problem.
Have a look at the letter that a little English girl wrote to her parents when she had had enough of their "bullying".
Says the girl, "I am running away becas you think I farted when I diden't. PS: You are mean".

I am sure this made her parents think.

When you - as I was it today - are given the choice between mowing the lawn and going out on your bike, you may be brought into doubt.
By mistake this morning, when our neighbour came in for a cup of coffee, I just happened to say - you know just to keep conversation going - that perhaps I should soon have to mow the lawn.
A remark like that must never come out in the open in the presence of Matron - especially not when you more than anything want to bike.
Suddenly my choice was completely easy. I would rather mow.
I tried to avoid it by explaining that "soon" is a broader concept than "here and now".

It carried no weight in Matron's perception of the word at all. So I've mowed the lawn.

We have celebrated Cecilie's confirmation today - and a very good celebration it was.
A great ceremony in church, a good sermon, and 7 very nice and young girls and boys confirmed their christening.
Afterwards the whole family gathered here at our house with speeches, songs and excellent food and drink.
It was a super day which everybody enjoyed very much, I am sure, not least we two old seniors. It's so nice seeing your family having a good time.
Next confirmation is next Friday, grandson Kristian. It is also going to become a good day.

PS: It was also Katrine's 18-year-birthday. And we did sing for her as well.

An exciting and busy weekend took its start yesterday. We picked up tables and chairs for a party here in our house on Sunday. These tables are heavy, so I left the lifting to eldest son, while I took care of chairs.
Oldest granddaughter, Katrine, is 18 years tomorrow. It was celebrated at a family brunch this morning.

The reason why this landmark birthday is not celebrated on the day - tomorrow - is that second youngest granddaughter, Cecilie, will have her confirmation exactly tomorrow.
The party afterwards will be here with us and we are looking very much forward to it.
Can you keep up? I am loosing my breath by just writing about it.
To complete the series of celebrations, second eldest grandson, Kristian, will be confirmed on Friday, and there will be yet another big party. We are also looking very much forward to that.
Yes, we certainly are a festive family.

A young couple were here the day before yesterday looking for a another house. Both showed great enthusiasm. For some reason especially the entrance seemed to be of interest to both of them. They repeatedly went in and out again. The male part of the couple for a long time sat in the doorway looking around. He very often moved away, so "Mom" could get in or out, and again he then returned to the entrance.
But suddenly they were both gone - without a word of goodbye. Nor were we ever so far as to talk about the price of the house. They were just gone.
Now both Matron and I hope the couple will return.
Maybe I owe to tell you that I am talking about the bird house I put up on 31st of March.

Matron has made an agreement that the one who is last up in the morning does the beds.
In practice this means that it is always yours' truly. I find it unfair. Why is it always the "last one" who is punished? Is the world so wicket that whoever comes last out of a bus, will have to clean it? No, it isn't, is it?.
In any case, Matron is very anxious that her agreements are respected, so I daily grab duvets, sheets, and pillows and spread them out nicely as well as a ton heavy bed cover.
It has become an annoying and dull habit.
That's why my surprise was so visible when the sweet lady this morning, just as I was to start my job, quite clearly said, "Do NOT make the beds today!"
I grabbed for the phone to press 9-9-9, something must be wrong with my boss, a doctor should be called. But I was stopped and told that clean linens were to be put on.
But most important. I did not do the beds today. It's been a good day.

This is an Aarhus tale.
In 2009, all city buses in our town had VISA card machines installed, a good idea in the spirit of modern times.
The only problem is that they more or less have not worked since. I'm not a major user of buses, but on the few occasions when I did use them, I have not yet paid for the trip. The machine simply did not work. I must consider it bad business for the bus company.
And now they've apparently had it. The VISA machines have got their final chance to show they are worth the many millions they have cost. Otherwise they will be scrapped. The first 29.9 million was invested by the Municipality of Aarhus. More money has been spent since.
Now you must not think the project has been a failure. Oh no, oh no.
"I will not say that the machines have worked well, but I would not call it a failure," said Henning Nielsen, Head of Aarhus Buses.

Never admit a failure. If this is not a failure I would hate to see one.

I had to rub my eyes a few times extra when today on a TV website I read that gasoline prices have taken a big dive. I certainly had not noticed this. But it is true.
Actually one liter since 17th april has dropped by 0,45 kroners.
The reason this news has missed me can only be that the price is much too high anyway. Who notices a decrease of measly 0,45 kroners when the price of 95 octane today is 13.31 kroners per liter?

It would have been different if it were in 1962 when I bought my first car and paid 0,85 kroners per liter. At that time a decrease of 0,45 kroners would be something.

I want the good old days back.

It's been a long and a good day. We visited old friends who just now inhabit a cottage at the North Sea.
We really enjoyed our day, it was all very nice, and good food and drink helped making the trip a great experience. A couple of walks in the dunes and to the sea gave the huge benefit that we we able to eat a little more.
But I am nevertheless sure that "intake" was a lot bigger than "output".
But how nice it was! So never mind!

Danish / German visitors to Studstrup Beach.

Today I have practised my German verbs. And they needed it.
The occasion was that eldest granddaugter currently is visited by a German exchange student, Sandra (seated far right), and since she - like many other German guests - wanted to see the sea around Denmark, they all came to Studstrup.
From here we could walk along the beach and view the vast ocean, The Aarhus Bay. Fortunately, the weather showed itself from its beautiful side.
Regarding the German verbs, I clearly feel that it is too seldom I speak the language. Admittedly, I am fairly frequently in Germany, but just as driver for Matron on her shopping raids there. And in North German supermarkets they speak Danish as well as in our local ones. So I learn no German by that. I shall have to go to Munich and get myself "ein Vassbier und ein Knockwurst." That will teach me some German - and the beer is good.

Yesterday I solemnly promised to finish Matron's two butterfly bush-beds today. I kept my promise. It was great to have it over and done with. And I received praise for my efforts. "They are alright," were the words. I was glad to hear it.
I was even more glad when eldest son by his arrival with his wife, Annette, and children, Cecilie and Frederik, who were all here for lunch saw that the patio was cleaned, ready for being painted, and immediately started doing it. I should have done it tomorrow, a job I do not like and that takes me 1-1½ hours. He did it in 10 minutes.
From where he has his painting skills, I do not know. I just know that they are not from me.

I have a little difficulty seeing the end of it.
On Monday I started project "Plant Matron's butterfly bushes." I thought I would finish the job the following day. But no. Incessantly something gets in the way. Lunchbreaks, watching a bit of TV, shopping, visit to family, resting, a drinks break, then I'm short of soil, then short of sand to lay the edge tiles in, then walking the dogs, then a small nap, then I have to light the barbecue, then ordinary garden work.
As you can see one disturbance after another piles up. And my impatience grows and grows.
But tomorrow I'm done. Only a snowstorm can stop me. The photo shows how far I am right now. It will be very nice when it is finished. Matron says it must be.

When I was a kid in Silkeborg I bicycled, too. Every time I had to go home I had to climb the steep hill from the harbour and up. I always thought that it was a bit "annoying" to climb, so, like many adults I grabbed onto a passing truck and let it pull me up. I stood at the foot of the hill and waited for a suitable truck. When I saw it, I slowly set off, and as the car passed I grabbed hold of it, and soon I was up.
This was - at least according to my parents - a crime that would always deserve some kind of punishment. But I took a chance and it went fine.
But not the day when I suddenly out of one corner of the eye saw that I was about to overtake my daddy, who was pulling his bike on the sidewalk. But I just went on in the hope that he had not recognized his son who passed him in quite a speed.
What confounded hopes. I could not sit very well on my bike for some days.

This is Denmark. Our wildlife is changing.

Yesterday two elephants could be seen in a small village on Zealand. They were seen grazing peacefully in a private garden. But perhaps the owner did not quite agree on "peacefuly". His garden needed a bit of mending afterwards.

The elephants had escaped from a circus, but fortunately the animal tamer arrived shortly after and had his "pets" led back to their tent.

The same circus will be here in Aarhus in two months. So who knows what we may see in our garden at that time?

I have an important recommendation to all parents. It will follow at the end of this article.
This morning, very early, in my sweet sleep, I was once again the victim of one of our cruel children's attrocities. This time the culprit was eldest son.
Again I was abruptly awakened with water sprinkled all over my poor face, shoving, tickling, and pushing - not to mention blows to my stomach.
Again telephone contact was established between the two brats, so the absent part also might "enjoy" the atrocities which are all utterly meaningless and should be prevented by social services or even better by the police.

Here is my recommendation to parents: Make sure to get all your children up for adoption before the age of 35. After that, they are totally mad and unreliable. I speak from bitter experience.

Dogs must have food. Also ours. Unfortunately our bitch right now sufferes from a mild case of anorexia. "Someone" (Matron) has mixed another product into the original (see picture), and it's apparently not good enough for the little lady dog. She only wants the real thing. Well, there's really nothing to do about it. And eventually she does eat it, but not with her usual quickness.
Our dog does not have these concerns. "It's food," he says, "ergo, it must be eaten." He hardly tastes it, just swallows it like any dog should do.
Now, dog food must be purchased. And it has become quite expensive. Because of that many dog owners have tried very slowly to get their dog used to not eating by cutting down the amount of food day by day. It was always successful - and then the dog died.
I still hesitate using this method.

The first bike ride of 50 km. was today. Exactly 52.16 kilometers.
It was not bad. It was absolutely terrible and awful and totally exhausting.
I do not remember a lot from the last 10 kilometers. They seem to have vanished in a mist of exertions. Pure survival, they were. Obviously my old body is not fit for rides over 50 kilometers.
I repeatedly had to ask myself: "Who is the old fool biking around on the Aarhus streets and roads and tormenting himself beyond all limits?"
The answer is simple: I am afraid it's me.

Once again blood flowed.
Today I was part of a major operation in our garden. And it was quite voluntary. Actually it was I who took the initiative. Some roses were removed, others shifted, and a new one was planted. It generally went fine, but one old rose, which was to be "executed", showed courage and resilience in the hour of its death. It had roots like an old oak tree, and since you can not just grab around a rose and pull it out, I had to dig one meter down before I dared. And it was then that blood flowed.

When the plant toppled, I pulled back my hand, and a large thorn - the size of a shark's tooth - cut my thumb and tore it. Just have look at the picture, but don't show it to any child.
My next task is planting butterfly bushes - and they fortunately have no thorns.

Among the many fine birthday gifts that a happy Matron received were 2 that will decide a bit of my nearest future. She got 2 butterfly bushes.
Before leaving today for an anniversary lunch at the Invigilator Association she told me that very soon I must prepare 2 squares for the plants.
"So what"? I hear you say, "That can't be very difficult".
Let me explain: I have to remove 2 square meters of turf, dig two holes at 30 x 30 cm. and 30 cm. depth. All this in pure clay!!!!!!
The mere thought of this job makes my back hurt and ditto my already severely strained knees. But since I know how much the sweet lady is looking forward to seeing the bushes in bloom I shall bear my pain in silence and even with a smile. That's the way I am.

That's what comes from being dragged out of bed at 6.45 a.m.

It all started last Monday. The ever observant Matron spotted little drips of water from a tap in our scullery.
Without any consideration of my bank account she immediately called a plumber for the repair.
He came today. Matron had told him to be here at half past seven. I repeat: Half past seven, and it was not the evening. Consequently I had to interrupt my sleep at 6.45 a.m. to be fully prepared.
In a short time the kind man had repaired the damage, and I was delighted. It could not be expensive. But it did - or at least might be. Matron claimed to have spotted something suspicious about our hot water tank, a bit of rust. The kind plumber told that it could easily be fixed, a new heater, at the cost of DKK 15.000.
Still shaken by the early exit from my bed and the price of a new heater I threw myself over the cleanup in our tool shed. I was like in a fever. Didn't know what I did. It had never occurred to me to clear up in that shed, but the two powerful attacks on my welfare led me to it. Just look at the photo and see how wild it was.

Today Matron celebrated her birthday with a lot of girlfriends present - at a brunch.
Actually there is no entry for men, but still it's rather convenient that there are at least a few of them - you know for the rougher part of the work, making coffee, laying the table etc.
So we were two of the stronger sex present, brother-in-law Finn and I. Graciously we were permitted to sit isolated at the far end of the room and were also allowed to eat some remnants of the rich people's (ladies') table.
We did not feel alone. There sound level from the other end of the living room was much too high for that. Neither did we suffer any menu-related distress. We were looked after quite well. It was all very nice and cosy.

And now there's a year till next time. Never mind. Time goes quickly.

The manager of Maryland Lottery, Stephen Martino, speaks to the press in front of the 7/11 where the 3 teachers bought their winning coupon.

Well, perhaps I should have continued my job as a teacher.
I have just read that 3 teachers, 2 men and a woman, in Maryland, USA have won 105 million dollars, 35 million each. Teachers are obviously lucky sometimes.
The 3 of them chose to have all the money paid out at once.
All 3 of them have more than one job, one even has 2 full time jobs.
If they are going to continue their carreers as teachers is doubtful. It might made me stop and thoroughly consider my future with a happy smile on my face.

Before we drove off to an excellent and pleasant lunch with good friends, I had to have something settled with Matron.
Since she last cut my hair it has had a tendency, at the slightest wind or when taking off my sweater, to make me look very much like Tintin. The front part of my curly hair points straight up in the air, bending a bit to one side. The resemblance to the famous cartoon character is striking. And it looks absolutely stupid.
Matron claims that my hairstyle is exactly as it should be. And if I am unhappy with it I can just go to an ordinary barber and pay what it costs. I am agaist that. Instead I have suggested her to take a course at the local hairdressing school, a course titled "How do I prevent my sweet husband looking like Tintin when I have cut his hair?"

I have not cycled today, but feel just as exhausted as had I done it - and a very long ride, too. I have been watching a couple of hundred people doing it.

One of the most exciting races has been on TV, Paris-Roubaix, "L'Enfer du Nord" (Hell up North).
Not only is it a long race, 257.5 km. But 60-70 kilometers are on cobbles of a very poor quality. We who are accustomed to riding on small frost broken and miserable Danish roads know what it means. Shaking all the way up through the front wheel, up in the handlebars, up the arms, and not least into the shoulders. Riding under these circumstances hurts horribly. I know from bitter experience.
I followed the riders' sufferings during the whole race. So now I am mentally and physically completely exhausted. It takes the prof riders 6 hours to ride the 257.5 kilometers. I would take 4 days. But then again, my bike is a bit heavier.

It was a good day.

Matron's LXXI birthday was celebrated. The nearest family were all here for brunch, including a debutant, Little Frederik. He is a modest young man who seemed to enjoy the company with only one modification. When we were photographed he suddenly told that he would rather eat. After that he was fine again.

How wonderful to have them all around us.

Matron was pleased with the beatiful weather, kept claiming that she was to be thanked for it. I believe she is right. She is a good woman who deserves any good weather she might get. I benefit from it, too.

Today has been busy. Tomorow is Matron's birthday and we are expecting all our closest family for brunch, including little Frederik who for the first time in his life is going to visit Grandma and Grandpa. I hope he is looking as much forward to it as we are. And that's a lot.
Apart from accompanying Matron on her usual tour round 3 supermarkets this morning I have laid the table in a traditional Easter manner. I am good at that. I like Easter. It always reminds me that spring is here.
Well, to be honest. It isn't. In fact it is bitterly cold and won't be any better till the end of the week.
And here I am just starting catching a cold. Please, somebody. Pity me.

Matron had but one wish this morning. Clean the gutters. Consequently I had an extended lunch and hid in my den. I was quickly discovered and sent to "the front".
Living dangerously on a high ladder I did the cleaning, went in and said, "Mission accomplished". Well I thought it was. There was just this downpipe that had opened in the joints during the winter. So I was sent back again. Fortunately I could do this very difficult job standing on the ground. With all my ingenuity I fixed it and hurried in to ask for praise. I got it.
It has been a good day.

I have quite often wondered what calories in fact are.
Today I found the answer. It's the most trustworthy explanation I have seen till now.
I would very much like to get my hands on the remedy that can kill the bastards. There must be some kind of spray.
I asked my doctor who suggested something he called asceticism.
I wonder where I can buy that.
But it sounds very effctive and poisonous.
I'll come round to it some day.

A disgrace. A flagrant violation of all written as well as unwritten rules regarding the handling of memorials. An abomination. A memorial is desecrated.

When today on my bike (Matron had abducted our only car) I decided to inspect the newly inaugurated memorial in The Langeland Barracks (see diary of Friday 30th March) I was met by an unpleasant sight.
Someone had removed the beautiful plaque. Only the pin remained. The inscription on the board with dog shit was removed. The board was there while the dog shit was split in two, 20-25 centimeters away. One must assume that the plaque as well as the inscription now adorns a wall of some Aarhus student.
This is another clear manifestation of the rampant abuses when no longer anything is sacred. Even monuments of major importance for our country are desecrated and in this case also removed.
Here, I think police should show some initiative.

Today it is exactly 211 years since an English fleet bombarded Copenhagen, lead by Admiral Sir Hyde Parker and Viceadmiral Horatio B. Nelson.
The English were not pleased with the Danish alliance with France and sent a big armada in order to eliminate the Danish fleet.
After four hours of intense battle in which both sides fired broadside after broadside, nothing was definitive. The British ships were only 200 meters from the defensive line, but although many of the Danish ships had hoisted the white flag the dreaded Brits still fired incessantly.
Still Admiral Parker feared losing the battle and signaled to Nelson to pull out. It is said that Nelson, however, was so determined to win that he put the telescope to his blind eye, saying, "I really do not see this signal". So he kept firing. In the end the Danish king surrendered.
About 1.800 Danes were killed or wounded, among which were a number of civilians in Copenhagen. The Brits had 1.000 British sailors killed or wounded.
That's one of the reasons why we love giving the English a good beating in football.

Last night, Matron promised she would go out shopping without me today.

But when I woke up and felt in good spirits, I suddenly heard myself saying that if she would wait for just half an hour, I would go, too.

Matron accepted.
But then things started happening. Nothing could be done quickly enough. A minute or two at the bathroom, breakfast eaten like lightning, tooth brushing sloppy. And I was constantly shepherded, despite the fact that I had half an hour at my disposal. After 18 minutes I was ready.
4 supermarkets and a nursery were on the agenda. Tough going.

In the last supermarket we were only to buy "a single item". It took half an hour and weighed 10 pounds.
I would rather have been April Fool.

There was blood streaming when this morning I was sent out into my workshop to fabricate one of Matron's wishes, a small wooden house for birds. Woodwork and yours truly are two incompatible things. So very soon I had to ask the nice lady for a solid bandage on my left little finger. It was squeezed beween a piece of wood and a sharp edge on the work table. It really hurt.
The very observant will note that the blood trail is clearly seen on the front of the house, just above the hole.
Also somebody might notice that the whole construction would not be the smartest ever seen in Studstrup. But it is solid, and the rent is cheap - and no deposits. It also meets all requirements for birdhouses set up by "The Danish Ornithological Society".
So there will be no complaints from any bird who migth move in.
Now Matron and I will patiently sit waiting for the arrival of the first residents. But since we're a little late we may have to wait till 2013.

A memorable day. An old friend from my time in the army and I had the honour of inaugurating a memorial at our old barracks in Aarhus.
The text on the board tells people to appreciate that once two brave soldiers did their duty to king and country and galantly kept all enemies away.
On the smaller board by the dog sh.. it says, "16 months of Sh.. at this place".
After suitable speeches we declared the memorial anaugrated and inspected the whole area including the buildings (now belonging to the university). We both wondered why so much had been changed since we were there in 1963-1964.
And then - a very nice lunch.

The more you eat the slimmer you get. Start now!

There is hope for us chocolate lovers. Today our TV2 brings the happy news that chocolate eaters are the slimmest.
It has been known for many years that dark chocolate is beneficial for among others your blood pressure. But now it has been shown that there is a connection between chocolate and a slim figure - that is in the positive way. The study shows that people who eat chocolate regularly are slimmer than those who only enjoy this delicious sweet once in a while. And regularly means several times a week. The survey was conducted among 1000 adult men and women between 20 and 85 years. Participants were weighed and measured and asked about exercise and diet habits - including how often they eat chocolate. The average response was twice a week, but the participants who ate chocolate more frequently than the average, appeared to have a lower BMI than those who enjoyed chocolate twice a week or less than that.
That's a novelty which pleases me. Now I can eat all the chocolate we have left from Christmas - with a good conscience. The more chocolate I eat - the slimmer I get. And I want to be slim.

As feared, but also a bit expected, the mower today had to be started.
Inexplicably, I had forgotten to clean it in the autumn, so I had to walk around with a dirty and grassy lawn mower. Well, in fact I've done that for the last 15 years, so I quickly forgot about it.
But what was hard to forget was the pain in my back due to all the mowing, a pain that only increased, and which undoubtedly had its original source in the fact that Matron in addition to lawn mowing had also ordered me to clean all of our just about 1.000 garden chairs and tables, you know washing and rinsing. I did that first of all.
All in all this was too much for my old back. But I suffered in silence.
It was a disappointment, though, that Matron after her arrival from work criticized the quality of the cleaning job.

I had to find a quiet place and cry from disappointment and pain.

Isn't it wonderful?

Right now at about 3.30 pm. according to my sensitive and revived weather station it is 20.8 degrees in the shade. According to the official website of the Danish Meteorological Office it is the warmest March day for 14 years.
This good weather was celebrated by Matron and her reverent subordinate, myself, by having parts of our garden trimmed, weeded and grated.
To my horror, I could not help noticing that the lawn has grown quite a bit within the latest few days. So hopefully it rains tomorrow, and I shall not have to mow. Dry weather will mean "out on the lawn, old man". Last year I mowed for the first time on April 17th - three weeks later than now. But I do not complain. One should never complain about good weather - at least not until it becomes necessary.

On this sunny day I went off on my bike. It was the first time this year without long underwear, it was without the otherwise compulsory thick sweater, it was without earmuffs, and without gloves. You can almost say that I rode without clothes, which might have attracted some attention - not least for the ride up and down the pedestrian zone.
Now I know very well that among my readers some sticklers for the letter of the law are quite offended that I am cycling there. They say I shouldn't.
To those few I would say that nowhere in the law can you find anything that forbids you to bike naked in the pedestrian zone. That's it.

Welcome to Copenhagen, Charles. Let me take your luggage.

These days Denmark is being visited by Prince Charles and Camilla. They arrived this morning and will stay for 4 full days.
Consequently they had to bring quite a bit of luggage, so much that two big vans were needed to transport their suitcases from the airport to the royal palace.
I suppose that the Royal English couple must have paid quite a sum for overweight on the flight, and I am not sure they know the meaning of "travelling light".

Once again early up. Once again a long drive deep into the Common Market (i.e. Flensburg, Germany). Once again visits to 3 enormous supermarkets. Once again my Visa Card abused and totally worn our - like me.
BUT. Today's shopping wasn't as bad as it sometimes is. We left home at 7 am sharp. and entered the first supermarket at 8.50. That meant much fewer people in the shops and no long queues. So in about 2 hours we had finished shopping and could relax with a nice sandwich and a cold drink at some cafeteria.
That was absolutely the better part of the day. We were back home at about 1 pm.
Only one thing. We bought a lot of Pepsi, beer, cider, squashes, wine etc. And those are heavy stuff. Matron claimed that her bad knees couldn't possibly endure such efforts. So whom do you you think did all the carrying? Well, I did. But I don't complain. I dare not.

It is not often that anybody can blame me anything.
This is due to my magnanimity, my courtesy, my memory, my inteligence, my kindness, my attention, my generosity - and not least my modesty.
BUT. I fear that just now part of my family - and rightly so - might blame me that I have forgotten something.
While we were blessed with a new family member, Frederik, our daughter and her family got a puppy, a West Highland White Terrier, a bitch called Tapsie.
She is an absolutely wonderful little thing, cheeky as any. I should have told all this a lot earlier. My fault. But as you know I only make one mistake per year. This was the one for 2012.

It's a shame that my fitness is so bad that I cannot bike for a longer time than is the case.
Today in absolute magnificent weather I should have liked to ride much more than I did. 2½ hours (41 kilometers) was what I could endure. The old bones and muscles simply refuse to cooperate.
Nevertheless I thoroughly enjoyed it.
And it gave me the opportunity of remembering all verses in a nursery rhyme, one that I shall sing a lot with newly born Frederik. It's a song about a little boy whose name is Frederik.
When I started my ride a couple of lines had fallen out of my memory, but while riding they came back.
Now. What can we learn from that?
Biking gives you a good memory. Remember that.
Lance Armstrong must have a memory like an elephant.
PS: Some more photos of Frederik have happened to find their way to my "Photo Archive". Click here.

Still a bit "groggy" after the previous two day's celebrations of little Frederik's arrival it has become everyday. Matron is a strong believer in the thesis that happy events translates into hard physical labour.
Consequently I was ordered to lay our potatoes today. The good lady stood by and watched every step of the process and there was no pittying of my very sore back. It grew worse and worse.
26 potatoes were "buried" in my potato field. I know it is early, but an order is an order.
Now the whole business about EU subsidies starts again. But third time lucky as they say.
Lucky, too, is it that Frederik, Mum, and Dad are very well at the hospital. They may come home tomorrow.
The observant reader has already noticed on the opening page that there is a small series of photos (4 in all) of the happy event in my "Photo Archive". If not. Click here. There may be more photos in a near future. One never knows.

NOW there are 6 photos.

What a wonderful day. For the first time ever Grandma and Grandpa saw their new grandchild at the hospital at Randers.
And all the nurses, midwives, and doctors were right. He is the prettiest baby ever born at that hospital.
It's a long time till we can see him again. Not until tomorrow afternoon. Can't wait.
I have been allowed to tell that he is going to be christened Frederik.

Just now I should be writing one of my intelligent articles here in my diary.

But I can't.

I can become granddad for the fourth time any moment.

So, until my nerves are a bit more settled I am not able to think straight.

But just wait.

BREAKING NEWS: Grandchild number 4 arrived tonight at 21:40. A healthy boy.

53 centimeters and 3.200 grams.

Oh, sweet memories. And, oh, sweet expectations.

Matron has decided that this year's summer holiday will be in our caravan at a small town in northern Jutland called Lemvig.

For once I do not mind her decision. I happen to love the place and nearly cannot wait even if we have been there so many times. It's our greatest favourite. I am sure the mayor will be there to welcome us at our arrival.

I was lured into Bilka today, the biggest and worst supermarket of them all. Matron did mention that we didn't have to go there just because we happened to be in the vicinity, but I clearly felt that it would be most unpopular just to pass it as if it did not exist.

So, in we went, on a Saturday and just about peak time, the worst time at all.

Matron was over the moon. I felt under the floor.

I tell you it was awful. One couldn't move. Trolleys and people all over the place. Why they didn't pick a less busy time to visit the stupid place I'll never know.

Bilka, I wish you would go away.

On this very beautiful spring day I ventured out on my bike. I didn't go far, just 28 kilometers.
On my way I happened to see an exhibition of various garbage items found by some well meaning family. They found in ditches along the road. Isn't it annoying how much litter one can see there, and especially just now when the grass hasn't come up?
All kinds of tins, plastic bottles and -gloaves, milk cartons, plastic bags, etc.
Well, this family obviously decided to do something about it and exhibitted what they have found as a reminder to all of us not to polute the environment. Good idea.
I hate people who just leave things in nature (or anywhere else for that matter). May their socks shrink next time they are washed.
(On the signboard it says, "Not me. Whom then?"

I am a woried man. My computer obviously doesn't like me any more.

Although it did behave a bit better today it is still quite "naugty" and does what it likes to do rather than doing what I like it to do.

So now there is no way of return. I shall send it away and see to that it will get a thorough spanking in the form of a genuine formatting.

I am sure that will teach it to behave properly.

Till then I must use our laptop, the one that Matron calls hers.

When your computer works you never give it a thought. It's just a given thing.

BUT. When things turn out as they have done for me today I cannot help swearing - and swearing a lot. Today both our stationary computer and our lap top (which Matron keeps calling hers) have played up very badly, and especially the stationary one. Keeps "freezing" all the time, and then nothing at all works. Very frustrating. I know a stronger word but dare not use it.

It is so annoying that I more than anything else want to throw the stupid thing out. And I might.

I am a bitter man.

This one helped a bit:

Into the bar comes a grasshopper. And the bartender says, "Hey, we've got a drink named after you!"

And the grashopper says, "Is that right? Why would anyone name a drink Bob?"

Making fun of we old people is not very nice. Not at all. But one must admit, it can be quite tempting.
First old man: You want to go for a walk?
Second old man: Isn't it windy?
First old man: No, it's Thursday.
Second old man: Me, too. Let's go get a beer.

Now. This one might make you wonder a bit.

A duck's quack gives no echo. Not even at places where any other sound would.

Nobody seems to know the reason.

But if you think you can explain this curious fact, please let me know, and it will make you famous.

And when you are at it you might also find out why horses and rats cannot vomit.

And when that is done I've got another 200 problems for you to solve.

I have a small weather station standing at my bedside. On it I can see a about temperatures in and out, pressure, humidity in and out etc.
But the one function that interests me the most is the one that shows length of each day.
It's so nice every morning these days to wake up and see how much the day has lengthened since yesterday.
But alas. It is on its last legs. Only half digits can be seen. It's dieing. How sad. It has served me for nearly 15 years.
So, I want to buy a new one - and most importantly - one that indicates time of sun up and down. That's a must. So I asked a good friend and who knows about weather stations, and he very kindly gave some advice.
But also he asked why I wanted the function of sun up since I never get up earlier than 10 am.
He didn't have to ask like that, did he? He now may be a former friend.
I answered - a little offended - that then I was informed about what I missed.
I mean. It's doctor's orders that I have an extended sleep.

I am opposed to social injustice, very much opposed. I know only very few people who aren't. I really get angry when I hear about it. And even more when I am the victim. And in this case I am.

Everybody in Denmark knows that petrol and diesel prices go up every day after 10 in the morning. And since we are a group of people who are doctorly ordered to make sure that we always have a good, long sleep we cannot possibly buy petrol and diesel at the lower price.

That's social injustice. And I think that something should be done about it.

When I was born it was

- 22 years after the end of World War I.

- 13 years after Charles Lindbergh's maiden flight across the Atlantic.

- 11 years after Wall Street "Black Tuesday".

- 7 years after Hitler became Reichchancellor of Germany.

- 1 year after start of World War II.

- 6 months after German occupation of Denmark.

No wonder one sometimes feels a bit old.

At New Year all Danish private houses were told to put up a mailbox at the roadside to make it easier for the postman to deliver his mail.
Of course we have got one there, too.
But it hasn't been a success. Only a little wind can make it move from side to side. In other words it is badly fastened in the ground. I must have a word with the clown who did it. Well, eeeh, in fact it was I.
I promise you that temperatures are not going to rise much more until I shall be out there again digging the whole thing up and pouring more cement into the hole. I probably was a bit stingy the first time. I didn't have a lot of cement.
But now that it is there, and can be used, I am unhappy with the fact that I haven't seen or heard one worh from Danish Mail whether the idea is a good one or a bad one - in other words, an evaluation. Do they save time and money I wonder?
But what I have seen is that the idea is not a new one. In USA they have had it for years. Just look at the photo taken in 1914.
But why does the postman on the photo put the letter into the mail box instead of giving it to the waiting customer?

Today I think I have been useful. At least I am sure that eldest son thinks so.
On Friday he is to submit a written assignment on "Children's Stress" in connection with his studies at his college. Front page of cover to the left.
I think he has written a very interesting paper on the topic.
He asked me to discuss it with him. And since I love the challenge of working with stuff that once was part of my studies and job he needed no persuasion.
I do know I am a bit obsolete compared with today's students but still I believe I can help. If with nothing else I am very good at spelling and punctuation.
It doesn't sound of a lot. But I still enjoy just being part of it, and I love our discussions.
And of course it is he and not I who shall write. I seem to forget that now and then, but I am quickly corrected.

Eight things to do in case of an Internet break down:

1. Dial 999.

2. Pull the curtains and see if anything has changed within the latest two years.

3. Phone and threaten your provider with impeachment based on high treason.

4. Work. But first check if you have been fired recently.

5. Check if your wife is the same as two years ago.

6. Count your children.

7. Get some fresh air. Be careful. You may be too sensitive to it.

8. Introduce yourself to your nearest family.

I've had my hair cut today. Just look at the photo. My hairdresser, Matron, claimed that I have needed it for I long time. I disagreed. I protested.
I had my hair washed over the zink which meant standing with my my chest resting on the edge. Matron said it was not chest but stomach. She has some difficulties with human physiognomy.
Anyway. This uncomfortable, stooping position caused me to groan a bit, perhaps even to moan.
At once I was told that a little pressure on a chest couldn't possibly make anybody groaning and moaning like that.
I chose to retaliate and mentioned the possibility of finding myself another hairdresser, one who wouldn't come up with sarcastic comments to her clients.
That was stupid. Shouldn't have said it. I now risk having to pay loads of money at my next hair cut. May it come late.

I like this.

We are getting out of darkness. Spring is just around the corner.

Where we live, on December 21st 2011, the sun rose at 8.43 and set at 15.45, all in all it was out for 7 hours and 1 minute. Gloomy.

Today we are blessed with sunrise at 7.02 and sunset at 18.00. Nice.

Length of day is now 10 hours and 58 minutes. We have added 3 hours and 57 minutes to it. Great.

Only I wish that length og day is egual to the number hours with sunshine.

I am looking very much forward to June 21st when the sun will be out for 17 hours and 32 minutes from 4.32 to 22.04. Lovely.

Today Matron and I have known each other for 55 years and 1 day.
That's a long time.
I am not surprised that she fell for my irresistable charm back in 1957. But somehow I am surprised that she has persevered so long.
Not that I am a difficult or demanding man. Not at all. Rather the opposite.
Perhaps she would have preferred some more resistance. You know, a REAL man who dares put up against her. I have tried it once - and failed.
This daring man, however, doesn't exist. She probably knows. That's why she didn't chuck me out.

I picked Matron up from her job today. As nearly always, I was told to stop at our local "Foetex" only a few miles from where we live, for Matron to do her 'incessant purchasses'.
I was permitted not to go with her into the shop, so I took a good look at an enormous stone that is exhibited right opposite the shop.
It's a big thing, 86 tons, 5 meters long, 2 meters wide, and 3 meters high. It was formed somewhere in Sweden.
And it is old, 1 billion years, bit older than I.
15-20.000 years ago it might have been a bit bored. So it started its journey towards Denmark together with a huge glacier and stopped very close to where it is now.
In 1996 it saw daylight again when workers building new homes happened to find it.
Fascinating to think that it was "born" a billion years ago, has travelled all the way from Sweden, and has been invisible for 15-20.000 years.

On this the first day of spring 2012 I ventured out on my bike. I had a specific purpose with my ride.
I read about the Jewish Cemetary in very central Aarhus and wanted to see it once again.
It is quite surprising that right in the middle of our metropolis, next to our Music Hall and our Town Hall you can find a small cemetary. But since Jewish burial places cannot and must not be abolished they are still there.
I have read that this one opened in 1825 and not a tomb has been abolished since then.
The latest burial took place in 1905.

PS: It was a nasty ride. I was promished only little wind. What I got was a stormy gale. I do not like our weathermen and -women. You cannot trust them at all.

This is pure nostalgy.
In 1963 Matron and I visited our friends in Sth. Godstone, England.
We had a wonderful trip - in fact was some kind of honeymoon. We got married 6 months earlier.
After 8 days at Mevagissey (hope spelling is correct) we returned to Sth. Godstone and shortly after went back to Denmark. All in all we were away for 2-3 weeks. Very nice.
To me it was an extra bonus that Matron and I also visited several places in the south of England following Henry Morgan's book "In Search of England".
An extra, extra bonus was our visit to Lord's to watch England vs. W. Indies (Colin Cowdrey batted with a broken arm). It was my maiden visit to this great cricketground.
The photo to the left is from our farewell, a sobbing moment.
Two weeks later I had to join the army, something the army only with great difficulty survived.

It seems that heavenly interventions are part of my existence. They seem to come when needed.
Going to bed last night, I was completely devastated because of my missing ability to repair my trusty and moulded sofa. And there I was - nearly sobbing.
Then suddenly, out of the blue, came the heavenly intervention. Hallelujah.
I knew what to do.
I am not going to tell in details about how I mended it. I always thought that technical explanations are so boring. But one thing can be revealed. Plywood is part of the solution.
Once again, I am ready to continue my life singing and whistling. For once again I recieved praise from Matron.
But I do scare myself a bit when time after time, I perform technical miracles because such revelations emerge. Nevertheless they are more than welcome.

I suppose it had to come sooner or later. Only I hadn't expected it today.

Still rollicking after my two successes repairing out TV and washing machine on 17th and 19th I thought it a piece of cake repairing my favourite sofa. One of the upholstery springs has broken.

Singing and whistling I started. But alas. I couldn't do it properly. I tried some unconventional solutions - but no luck. I shall now wait till tomorrow hoping that some heavenly intervention will give me the idea how to repair the sofa.

It shall be a disappointed man who goes to bed tonight, he may even cry himself to sleep. He is not used to disappointments like that.

I was cross with myself today, really mad. The reason was classic.

Attracted - you might even say lured - by the beautiful weather I had dared out on my bike. And there I sat for nearly 2 hours, quite unfit for anything but my moulded sofa. My ride wasn't even very long, 27 kilometers. I swore at myself most of the way. How could I even think of doing something as stupid as that? I felt sure that if I hadn't forgotten this in a day or two I shall never ride a bike again.

Getting old is sometimes hard.

How great, how incredible, how fantastic. I have just read it.

"Aarhus nominated as one of the four happiest towns in the world".

These wonderful words come from American writer and explorer Dan Buettner. He has travelled all over the world looking for happy towns.

Singapore, Aarhus, San Luis Obispo in Californien, and Mexican Monterrey are appointed as towns with the world's happiest people.

The appointment of Aarhus was motivated this way, "Inhabitants gladly pay 68 % in taxes knowing that in return they are guaranteed free medical assistance, free kindergarten (not true, my comment), top and free education of children. It's a robust town with 300.000 inhabitants, a vibrant cultural life and a number of religions. A sense of community and equality plus easy access to the sea and sorrounding landscape makes Aarhus appear as a small town".

Thank you very much, Mr. Buettner. We shall all do our very best to look happy.

Yesterday our prime minister had to give up any thought about any kind of congestion charge in Copenhagen. I am sure she is sorry. No majority for it.
However this has not hindered my ideas of a similar charge here at Studstrup. For quite some time I have been annoyed with the amount of traffic in our village. Some days we can have 3 cars within the same half hour driving down our street. It's noisy and polluting.
It is simple to establish a toll booth. There is only one road leading to our village.
Consequently I shall erect a small shed on the road at our local football ground and place one of my four ladders across it. Matron will sit in the booth and charge all cars and motorbikers 10 kroners each to pass. If any driver attempts any protest she is the one to stop it with her sharp tongue and reproachful look.
I can hear you asking, "Where will the money go?"

Simple. There is a deficit to catch up with from yesterday's spree in Germany.

It has been a good day, especially considering what it might have been.

Wanderlust and a dominating shopping gene forced Matron to visit some of the attractions of our neighbouring country Germany, three enormous supermarkets.

And here comes what made the day so good. I did not go.

Matron had allied with one of her friends.

After some hours' ravages in the attractions mentioned they are now back which meant a strenuous work for me carrying all the souvenirs in, bottles and tins as well as ordinary groceries and meat.

It is always a good day when you miss a shopping orgy in Germany - and always will be.

This morning I read in a newspaper that winter is over. No more frost and snow.

That's the best piece of news I have had since August 19th 1227 when I read the obituary of the bloodthirsty tyrant Djenghis Khan's. He had died the day before.

I am pleased that already today we can wave good bye to winter.

My hope now is that it is not a meteorologist who has said it. If so we might as well forget all about it.

But now I am going to sit down totally relaxed here in my moulded sofa watching snowdrops surfacing. Eranthis are already hear. I don't care much about them. I want snowdrops.

- and bike rides.

This is to me quite a story.

Last Friday in Sweden, a man was found deep into a forest sitting in his car that was totally covered by snow. He was found by two people who happened to pass by on their snow scooters. They called the police who by means of a tracked vehicle went out to save the man.

According to him he had been in the car since December 19th, all in all 2 months.

He had survived by eating snow and skin creme. He was totally exhausted and skinny. The police officer who was the first one to open the car door - and only with great difficulty - said that he had never in his life seen a man as thin as the "Snow Muncher" which he is now called. The exhausted man could only say a few words. He was wearing nothing but trousers and a shirt.

How he had ended up deep in the forrest nobody knows.

He is now attended to at a hospital. Some newspapers hint that he is deep in debt, has no family and has a record of disappearing. But never as long as this.

My parliament, Christiansborg, in central Copenhagen. From there I shall undisputedly govern the whole country.

I wish I were the only person in charge in our parliament.
None besides me and none over me.
The first thing I would decide with all 179 votes againt 0 (there are 179 members in our parliament) would be giving all Danes with an age of 71 and over one million kroners (125.000 pounds) - on the one condition that it is all spent within a year.
In return - during the period mentioned - the same people should not recieve their child support.
All in all an action like that would without any doubt become the kick start that our government wants so badly, a boost on our economy, and would help our state finances - and mine. Eeeeh. Remembering that, and after a bit of consideration, I think I'd better make it two million.

I swore a bit when Matron this morning called me to have a look at our washing machine. All it did was making a sound like a growling. The good lady did not hesitate in telling that it wan't worth while having it repaired since it is about 5 years old She thought we'd better buy a new one.

Once again that woke the little technician in me (see 17th Feb.), and I started turning knobs, switching the machine off and on (which helped the other day on our TV). But no improvement.

Then suddenly it struck me what to do. Check the filter. I did. It was full of dog hair. I cleaned it, and what a joy. Everything worked again.

I persuaded Matron to praise me which she reluctantly did and said I was "a very clever man".
I am considering making a living of my technical skills

This morning Matron insisted that I joined her for a visit at an enormous flea market some 40 kilometers away. Of course my first reaction was NO, absolutely NO, and I intended to leave it by that.

Knowing that it would be difficult to carry through my intension I stayed away from the kitchen for some time. I knew she would be sitting there with her crossword waiting to send me her imploring look, and I knew I couldn't (dared not) resist.

Eventually I had to go and have my breakfast.

I have been at a flea market today.

I swore a bit when Matron called me for lunch. Not because of the lunch but because she simultaneously shouted that our TV did not work. Sound but no picture. Immediately I saw the bill from the TV mechanic in front of me - big figures.
So the little TV technician in me woke up and I started fiddling with cables and buttons. No luck. I fetched our smaller TV and plugged it in. My goodness. It worked.
"AHA", the clever man thought, "It's the big screen that malfunctions and not the reciever box", which I initially thought. Once again on to cables and buttons. No effect.
Then suddenly it struck me what to do. Switch off the TV set completely. Leave it for 20 seconds, and turn it on again. That worked. Both sound and picture were there.
Matron praised me for my deed and called me "a clever man".
Higher praise you couldn't possibly expect from Matron. I shall sleep well tonight. Has been a good day.

My plaque with my name on it with only one

I visited Silkeborg today. First lunch with family and then a visit to the local archives. I love lunches and I found what I was looking for.

All well.

But what was not so well is that opposite the archive building - where I used to live in my youth - is now erected an ugly monster of a house. I thought that at least they could have provided this ugly thing with some kind of plaque saying, "Here lived Gunnar Rasmussen from 1954 to 1960. Silkeborg is proud of him." But no. Nothing of the kind is to be seen. And that in spite of the fact that some years ago I had the plaque made myself - in Albania. It's a nuisance, though, that they have misspelled my first name. There is only one "n".

I have now been on Facebook for exactly 3 weeks. And even if the initial curiosity has vanished I am still happy that I joined.
Old and present friends, former colleagues and family are so easy to contact.
But most of all I enjoy "Old Silkeborg".
I find it very nice to see places, houses, people, and vehicles that I remember from my childhood and youth. Also photos even older (you may think they are difficult to find) are interesting like the one you can see. I cannot help showing it to you as an example of pictures from Facebook. It is the old townhall square in 1890. That is 21 years before my dad was born, 27 years before my mum was born, and 50 years before I was born.
I am sure that those of you who have been at the square will recognize it. Some of the buildings are still there.

Eventually - after having my biked thawed - I could set off for a ride.
I chose a mountain stage between Studstrup and Skæring.
To be honest I didn't like riding on that narrow path. I have tried several more "interesting things" on my bike.
One easily gets dizzy.
Keeping the balance is difficult and nervewrecking.
I was not amused at all - on the opposite.
And oncoming traffic made it a lot worse.
Neither did I enjoy other bikers or motorbikers wanting to overtake.
My next ride will be a flat one, I promise you.

Yesterday temperatures over 0.
A bit mildness in the air.
Forecast seemed to indicate that I just might be able to go for a ride on my trusty bike.
But not so.
How mistaken can one be?
I did not bike.

Snow in Tunesia. The poor boy doesn't know what a snowball is.

For the first time for some weeks the temperature today was over zero. What a nice surprise.
Quickly our two dogs and I went for a healthy walk in the rather mild climate. We all enjoyed it. We walked for nearly an hour.
Coming back I opened for the news on TV and to my astonishment I saw and heard that Tunesia has been hit by something that most of all reminds of a blizzard. In fact several parts of northern Sahara had snow.
What the weather has come to I don't know.
Perhaps the next worldchampion in cross country skiing will be Tunesian. And perhaps the next world champion i camel racing will be Norwegian. You'll never know.

Today I really began my new life as a "SKYPE-user".

No less than 3 video-calls were successful - to my great surprise.

Now in a new (and costless) way I can both see and talk to other people. Impressive. But we are in 2012, brave new world.

Within 2 weeks I have joined FACEBOOK as well as SKYPE. One can be completely breathless. But I have to follow suit.

Tomorrow I shall not dare myself out into something new. I am still aware of the old saying that any change - even for the better - is irritating.

Till yesterday I was rather reluctant writing on my next book about homeless families in Silkeborg in the 40's and 50's. Not that I was lacking the desire to write. I had just come to some kind of a standstill. I knew exactly what I was going to write about. All the materials were there in a messy bundle on my desk, heaps of copies gathered at the archives at Silkeborg.

And this was the reason for my reluctancy. A thorough sorting and cleaning up was necessary before I could start writing. With a great effort I managed to have it done yesterday. And I have written nearly without a break since then. I love it, enjoy every moment of it. Sometimes I even feel thast I get "high", especially when a certain sentence or paragraph comes out just nicely. Mind you I also tend to feel "high" when I succeed in finding knowledge that just fits in with what I already knew.

I love getting "high". I can only recommend it.

Once again my car is hospitalized. Not because of any acute injuries or illnesses. It is purely preventive. In short. Undercoating.
The proprietor of the undercoating station claimed that I could have it done for a ridiculously low price. Furthermore he claimed that his treatment is so effectful that my caravan parked 5 meters away will also be protected. That persuaded me.
Some people have asked if I didn't find the smell in the car afterwards irritating. I always say NO. In fact I like it. I also like the smell of asphalt. But then again. Those two products are cousins, aren't they?

I have joined SKYPE today, without really knowing what it is and means. Of course I have been told it is telephoning via my computer. But before you can speak to anybody there are certain preliminary exercises to go through. Eldest son who installed the "thing" on my computer says it is simple. He would, though, wouldn't he?

But what persuaded me into yet another digital adventure was that telephoning becomes costless. To me that's illogical. I still remember from my childhood when I was forbidden to use our telephone because it was "so expensive". But now. Talk as long as you wish - no bill.

On top of the bargain you can see the person you are talking to. That will be nice for me, but I doubt it that the same goes for the person in the other end.

Athro, "Os yw cylchedd y ddaear yn 40,000 cilomedr a hambwrdd o wyau yn costio £ 2. Pa mor hen ydwyf fi?" Disgyblion, "Yr ydych yn 34." Athro, "Mae hynny'n gywir. Sut wnaethoch chi ddyfalu"? Disgyblion, "Hawdd. Mae fy chwaer yn 17 oed, ac mae hi yn unig cnau hanner."

This is a funny little incident from my time in the Danish folk school. The problem is that it was told to me by a Welsh colleague. If you want to have a translation press here.

Getting old has its disadvantages, but please remember that today is the oldest you've ever been, yet the youngest you'll ever be. So enjoy this day while it lasts.
Observations on growing older:
Going out is good... Coming home is better.
You tend to use more 4 letter words.... "what"... "when"...???
You have 3 sizes of clothes in your closet, 2 of which you will never wear.
Everybody whispers.
The things you used to care to do, you no longer care to do, but you really do care that you don't care to do them anymore.

You forget names. But it's OK, because other people forgot they even knew you.

Have a nice day.

I always enjoy Christmas lunches. And that also goes for yesterday's.

But why is it that the following day is always so different from other days?

Why is it that I can hardly eat anything?

Why is it that all I can drink is orange juice?

Why is it that yesterday's most eloquent and entertaining person today hardly says a word?

Why is it that today I more than ever prefer inactive activities?

Why is it that Matron doesn't pity me.

If you think you can answer these questions - or just some of them - I should like to hear from you.

First Christmas lunch of the year was today. It took place at some friends in Ebeltoft.
As usual it was a joyful and happy affair and - also as usual - I ate too much. I happened to eat so much that Matron had to do the driving on our way back. Fortunately that suited her well. She felt sure that my driving would not have been what she wanted, and furthermore she recently read about research proving that men more often than women show "inappropriate behaviour" behind the wheel.
And for those two reasons she took over and sat behind the wheel.
Well, somehow it was only fair since it was I who drove on our way out.

A Siberian winter has struck. After what has been told o me it is bitterly cold outside. The cold war is not quite over, yet. We are talking about real "Ruski-cold", perhaps even with a record low temperature in a near future.

For that reason I today read my newspaper for one reason only, seeking advice about protection against the cold. The advice I found was well known, dull and doubtful.

Fortunately I have got my own advice that I am going to share with you. It is guaranteed to work.

Remain indoor, perhaps under your warm duvet. Don't get up until you really have to. Then drink lots of hot tea and good and strong drams (Danish "snaps").

After that go to bed again and stay there till spring.

Unfortunately I did experience cases of bullying through my many years within the Danisk school system. Bullying is always unbearable for the poor victims. And now and then I could feel powerless about it.

And just today I read that our parliament has got the same problem. A psuchologist calls the honoured members "a gang of monkeys without a leader". Again I feel powerless.

However this is nothing compared to what I am just now watching through my window. A number of birds, blackbirds, sparrows, chaffinches, blue tits, and others are busy eating of Matron's birdseed. And that's bullying. The blackbirds are very busy chasing all minor birds away - and also some of their own "mates". That's merciless bullying in a way that would make authorities close down any school and parliament forcing our prime minister to call for an election.

I did sometimes manage to help bullied children, and somebody might make parliament behave, but as far as the birds are concerned one feels totally powerless.

I want my daughter employed. If not - no more football today.

You probably have heard about yesterday's incident when a man towards the end of the first half of the game between Everton and Man. City stopped it for 5-10 minutes.
Somehow he managed to run onto the pitch and handcuff himself to a goal post. It turned out to be a protest against Ryanair. For some reason the comapany would not employ the poor man's daughter.
I have a bit of sympathy for him and like his demonstration.
Furthermore it has given me an idea. Handball bores me. So if Matron one day forces me to join her for some handball game - which she very well might do - I shall pass the time as follows:
I shall jump up, run down to one of the goals, pull out my handcuffs, lock it around one of the posts, and swallow the key.
When I am arrested and the police asks me why I did it, I shall tell the truth and say that I was bored. I shall laugh when they find out that they have to arrest the goal as well as me.

Today is a remarkable day.
Only 335 days left till New Year and 328 till Christmas Eve. Very nice, isn't it?
And even better. The length of the day has increased by about 1½ hours.
But perhaps more important. The name of the day is "Vigilius' Day". He was a bishop in Trento, Italy and was - like so many of his colleagues murdered. The reason for his murder was that only by means of his powerful prayers he could overturn a very big statue of a wicked idol.
I wish I had his power. Then IKEA wouldn't be there any more.
More about today:

Today is exactly 100 years since a famous ship, "M/S Selandia" was launched from a Danish shipyard in Copenhagen, called "Burmeister & Wain".
It was the very first diesel fuelled ship in the world.
This helped bringing Denmark on the world map within ship building.
I think that it is well done by a small country like ours. Don't you?
Notice. No chimney. That was remarkable in those days.

I have been accused of treason. And that even on a Sunday afternoon and with rather harsh words.
Yesterday our national handball team played the final of the European Championships in Serbia.
I couldn't care less and went into my little den and wrote - and enjoyed myself.
Suddenly the door opended and in it stood Matron with her matron air about her. She loudly accused me of tresaon followed by death penalty and what was worse, of letting her alone with an obviously exciting game.
Even if I find it difficult to see anything exciting about handball I got up - and was immediately asked to prepare our dinner (left overs from the day before, so I just had to warm it). I did.
Thinking that I'd better show some solidarity I for just a moment went into our living room only to find out that Matron did NOT watch handball. She was recording it. It was too exciting for her.
When I had finished preparing dinner the game was over. I never saw a second of it.
I wonder why I was dragged out of my den. Only to prepare dinner - is my answer.
Matrons are cunning people, you know.
By the way. We won.

What a good looking young, and slim man.

Life would be empty without nostalgia.
Yesterday our friend from the other side of the road came and gave us a lot of photos from "The good old days" in 1990 when I was 50 years old.
I was especially interested in the ones where I could be seen, and for today's diary I picked two.
If you study them thoroughly enough - but please be very careful - you may observe a slight difference between then and now in my weight and cubic content.
I can't. Matron can.
I shall save you from her comments. They were not nice.
I still have the white pair of shorts. But nowadays all I can manage is pulling them on one of my legs. And only up to my knees. Honi soit qui mal y pense.

I read this today:

When Columbus sailed out he didn't know where he went to. When he arrived he didn't know where he was. When he came home he didn't know where he had been.

And all of that he did for other peiople's money.

Had it been nowadays he would have been a politician.

I always thought that the Italian national sport was football. But no. It seems that tax fraud is even bigger. During my good friend Silvio Berlusconi's controversial 'reign' tax authorities were (mildly spoken) ineffective. This resulted in a steep rise in the number of people who cheated. Today 20 % of all Italians do not pay the tax that they should. In total the state annually misses 150 billion euros.

Only this week 7.500 people were exposed. No wonder that the Italian economy is as bad as it is. Even the catholic church has cheated and is now going to repay 25 million euros.

Could it be that they were in good faith - or what?

It's a surrender. For years I have rejected the idea of ever joining Facebook. But now I have become a member together with more than 800 million others all over the world. I'll never walk alone.

My problem is that I don't quite know how to use Facebook. Obviously I am fooling a around. I did manage, though, to chat with a couple of people. But I am far from sure that I could do it again. However it was comforting that my good friend Toni in our chat told me that surely I would get the hang of it. I am not sure.

You may wonder how I ever succeeded in joining. There was a long procedure on the computer, and the only reason of my success was that eldest son did it for me.

There is little joy in the weather forecast for the coming week. Day temperatures about 0 and night temperatures far below. Matron is convinced that opening radiators in our bedroom is unhealthy which means that we sleep in 9 degrees.

Last night she was obviously overwhelmed with compassion for my sensitivity to cold. She said she would open the radiator a bit. I was pleased with her care for me until she said that it was not nice to let our bitch who always sleeps in our bedroom, sleep in that cold temperature.

In my next life I would like to be a black labrador.

On this our eldest son's birthday I had an appointment in the morning with my very good but also "greedy" dentist.
He thoroughly started checking the "ruins", and everything seemed to be fine - untill he came to the last but one tooth. He told me that a very old filling had a crack. We agreed that it must be due to metal fatigue. I suggested he could repair it some time next year, but no, he could not recommend that, so we found an appointment early March.
I must remember to bring a lot of money that day. From bitter experience I know that it will cost.
After that Matron and I had a nice lunch with our son and his by and by somewhat pregnant wife.

I thought I would never live to hear this. Today I read in a Danish newspaper that a British scientist, professor Jim Horne, director of "Sleep Research Centre" at Loughborough University, has proven that women need more sleep than men. To be exact 20 minutes more per night than the average man. The good professor even dares telling us that the reason why is women's ability to multitask, indirectly claiming that men are unable of it.
He continues that multitasking makes your brain work harder, and the harder it works during the day the more sleep you need at night, and the most important thing about sleep is giving your brain the opportunity of resting and recovering. Obviously multitasking tires your brain out.
But so does living with Matron's many oral and written orders. Consequently - at least in our house - the man needs more sleep than the woman.

When former school people meet there is no need for an agenda.
Today I experienced a joyful reunion with school priciples, former colleagues from Aarhus. We are a group of 15-20 people who meet at a fixed annual event with a nice lunch.
When we met in the old days in an official capacity at headteacher meetings we always had a tight agenda which was observed. This was not the case today. And let me tell you something. Former school priciples know how to talk. Of course it was mostly down memory lane, event of amusing and sometimes sad events - something we experienced many years ago. Also other colleagues and former students were subjects receiving space.
Who can forget the story about the teacher at a school who one winter day was hit by a snowball in the back of his head, thrown by one of seven students who were standing behind him. He lined up all seven and asked them one by one: "Was it you?" The first six boys all said no. Number seven was not even asked. He got a slap that sent him into the snow while the teacher exclaimed: "Then it can only be you"!

At a staff meeting the boss complained that he wasn't getting any respect.

The next day he brought a small sign that read, "I'm the boss", and he taped it to his office door.

Later that day he returned from lunch to find someone had taped a note to his that said, "Your wife has called, she wants her sign back".

I am often accused of being messy. Matron could talk for hours about it.

She also claims that I am no good looking for missing objects. According to her it's been like that for 49 years. The pattern is always the same. I start looking and give up. Matron stands up, and within one minute she has found whatever we are looking for. That is bad for my self confidence.

But perhaps the turning point came today.

Since yesterday we both have been looking for two pieces of paper that are important to me. The search continued today for some hours, and then ---- HEUREKA.

Within two minutes I found both pieces of paper. That quieted Matron.

It has been a good day.

Did you know that Danish sausage stands have existed since January 1921?

Did you know that in the 60'es and 70'es there were 1000 mobile sausage stands in Denmark?

Did you know that today there are under 100?

Did you know that in my past I was a sausage seller at a sausage stand in Silkeborg?

My guess is that you have answered NO to all 4 questions, and that the 4th was a surprise to you.

But yes. I sold sausages as a substitute when the owner wanted some time off. I worked there for 2-3 years when I was at college.

It was an interesting job. I met a lot of different people who liked a chat. And I did not have to eat at home. I was allowed to eat as many as I wished. Not bad.

I still like to have a hot dog or two at a sausage stand.

I am in deficit. Not with sleep and not with food, but with biking. The awful weather we've had is to blame. For two weeks my bike has patiently waited to be taken out.

Then eventually today weather allowed us to go for a ride (57 kilometres), and as usual something unexpected happened. At a rather desolate place I met a young couple with a pram. I immediately recognized the male part, a former very good teacher at my school. I haven't seen him for nearly 10 years. It was very nice talking to him again, and the conversation grew even more interesting when his wife told she used to be a semi pro bike rider. I like talking to bike riders. I feel there is a kind of a special bond between us.

Tomorrow is no doubt going to be a good day. Our English friends will come and stay with us for a week. You may remember that we have known each other for 53 years.

No doubt it will also be a trip down memory lane. We've got plenty to talk about. But it is not sure that everything that is said will be heard. We all (perhaps except one of us, and it is not me) have hearing problems. In short. We are more or less deaf. Whether that is an advantage or a disadvantage is not for me to decide.

Anyway - Matron and I are looking forward to some nice days.

The entries in the international garden product competition.

Our English friends arrived today and were at the airport recieved by a welcome committee of three, Matron, our youngest daughter, and I. How nice it was to see them again.

Immediately at the arrival at our humble home the international competition of garden products was opened (See "Diary Part 7", 27th and 29th of August 2011).

As you can see on the photo there were 4 entries, plums (Danish), potatoes (Danish), apples (English), and pears (English).

The judge (Me) had a good look at the four exhibits and had no doubt in pronouncing that the winner was the potatoes, and as number two came the plums.

I am totally sure this was no surprise to any neutral observer.

This decission, however, created a certain unrest among the English competitors, but the judge stood firm and could not be moved, and that in spite of physical threats.

The presentation of prizes will take place later by the the mayor of Aarhus. Security people will vigilantly keep the English under control.

PS: Also on the photo you can see some of the very nice presents that were given to us by our friends (Who said bribery?)

Together with our English friends we "did" Aarhus today.

As usual I preferred to sit waiting outside the shops that we/they wanted go to.

This paid its own dividend today. A group of young school children (6 years old) were on a day trip with their two teachers and were resting on two benches opposite an obviously desired shop.

I asked one of the teachers from what school they came, and to my joy they came from the school where I had my initial teaching job from 1964 to 1971. We had an interesting conversation about that.

One of our English visitors, May, joined us. She had seen the children and I chatting. She also teaches kids of that age in England and became curious.

One of the teachers told the children whom the English lady was and they became very interested.

My old friend, Len, at the Aarhus Football Stadium.

After having "done" the city we went to the forest south of Aarhus. The weather was fantastic, so it was extra nice.

On the way there I couldn't help stopping at our local football ground and show it to our two British visitors (See photo). I am sure they were duly impressed.

How fast do you think I can run? I'm 70 years old.

I tell you. I can run very fast. That was proven today at Silkeborg.

While our English guests followed by Matron visited one shop after the other, I sat outside waiting. Suddenly I needed somewhere to spend a penny. And at my age sometimes you are given only a short warning. I politely asked at a couple of shops - no toilet.

All I could do now was going to a big supermarket (Føtex) at the town hall square about half a mile away. That's a long way to walk. And that would take time. So now the good citizens of Silkeborg could see an elderly, distinguised gentleman sprinting down the pedestrian street with a heavy shopping bag in one hand.

Having arrived at the toilet of the supermarket, the elderly gentleman realized that there was a queue. Oh, dear. He seriously considered jumping the queue, but refrained with a strained smile.

Suddenly a toilet was available - and the smile became a broad and relaxed one.

You must be dieing to know that today, the 29th of September, it is exactly 182 years since the first policemen were seen in the streets of London in 1829.

They did their job under the interior ministry and were called "Bobbies" og "Peelers" after the man who "invented" them, Robert Peel, who was interior minister at that time.

The police force patrolled London in a radius of 7 miles from Charing Cross. Only Glasgow and Paris could master a police force like the one that was established in London.

Now. Why do I tell you all this?

Well, it's because I happened to meet two big and 2-yard-shoulder-wide Danish policemen just as I stepped out of the car in Ebeltoft today. They nearly scared the life out of me, because they seemed to steer right towards me, and, I feared, with "bad" intentions.

I quickly scanned my brain of what I might have done wrong. Nothing, I thought.

Fortunately the two "Bobbies" just passed me and crossed the street laughing at something - not at me I hope. But perhaps they could see I was scared.

It's a happy day - and it's a sad day.

I have dug up my last potatoes, nearly a bucketfull out of three plants. That was good.

The sad part is that it was the last potatoes of this year.

I now have to wait 8-9 months till I can once again impress the world with my first class and prize winning potatoes.

There is yet another sad thing however. My EU-subsidies have not been recieved. I wonder what has gone wrong. I must contact my local MP to get things started. I shall bribe him with a pound of potatoes.

Our English friend are - like the rest of us, and like the rest of Europe - blessed with a fantastic weather. A bit misty in the morning, but after that 23-25 degrees and a clear sky with bright sunshine. It is by far the best it has been since last year.

I wonder why this should happen just this week. I know what the English would say about it. But I don't quite trust their maintaining that it is because they are here, and that they brought it.

I can say that with certainty, because I am convinced we would have had the same weather even if they were not here. Don't you think?

I shall be disappointed if the weather changes on Monday when they go home.

One of my old dreams has come true.

As you may know I am a bit mad about cricket and have been so, since I was 9. I played till I was 43 and umpired for 10 years after that.

Now I am just a happy spectator and watch as much cricket as I can.

There is a problem, though. There is hardly ever cricket on Danish TV and only very few games worth watching live. So I have to go to England if I want to see it, live or on TV.

But not so much any more perhaps. "Eurosport 2" have started transmitting every day from a 20-20 tournament in India. I am watching it right now with my English friend. Very nice.

Give us some more cricket. Together with bike racing it is my favourite sport on TV.

They have gone - our English friends. It's going to be quiet in the house.

We took them to the airport this morning after a very nice good-bye-dinner last night.

See photo.

Nearly the whole family were there, except Cecilie and - as you can see - half of Anette.

I shall make sure they are there next time.

Unfortunately Matron is not to be seen either. But she is there, hiding between Annette and Mr. Lancaster himself.

She doesn't like her photo to be taken.

If she hadn't been there we would have had nothing to eat. And we had. And it was great.

A banana pouch. Buy it before it is too late.

Matron is a "shop-alcoholic". As opposed to me she likes going to supermarkets and shopping centres.

According to herself she only buys things that no home could possibly do without.

Her latest purchase (see photo) is a "banana pouch", or a "banana holder", or perhaps even a "banana container".

No matter the name it is obvious that we and the population in rest of the world in the 21st century couldn't possibly live without a gadget like that. Buy it before your neighbour does.

I myself am not sure, though, what we are going to use it for, since we are not in the habit of transporting bananas around.

But the big question is, "What do we do if the banana is more than 8,48 inches long?"

There will not be space enough for it in the pouch.

I can give you but one answer to that question, "Measure your bananas befor buying them.

Perhaps customers in the supermarket will look a bit astonished when they see you measuring the bananas. But don't feel embarrassed. Explain to them why. They will understand.

I should have told you yesterday. But Matron's "banana pouch" made me forget all other subjects.

Anyway. Yesterday I went on a bike ride. 50 kilometres in all.

Perhaps I should have shortened it a bit.

First of all there was a very strong wind, Gale force 10-12 or more. I felt it like a tornado.

25 kilometres in stormy head wind, and 25 in a glorious back wind. But the first 25 were absolutely dreadful. I was totally exhausted when I turned round and headed for home.

Secondly I hadn't been on a bike for 10 days. And not only that. I had eaten much too much during the week when our English friends were here, a lot more than I am used to.

That made my bike unusually heavy. And heavy bikes are hard to ride.

I shall be out as quickly as possible again. That bike must loose some weight.

I have been up north today. I visited my old and very good friend from the army, Kruse.

He has recently had some problems with his computer, and since I thought I could solve these problems I went up there. In fact I was right - and successful.

I'm becoming quite a computer expert (My words, mind you).

How nice it was to visit him and his wife once again.

Fortunately we had time for a good lunch which I enjoyed very much. There is nothing like a good lunch to make the little grey cells work. It is much better than dinner, which often makes my grey cells fall asleep. Could be the red wine.

Tomorrow I shall do as little as possible - if Matron allows me to.

I slept in our caravan last night because our youngest grandchild, who is here for some days, likes my bed. I always enjoy sleeping out there, no matter the temperature - at least when I'm in my bed. Getting in and out is a different matter.

This mornig it was bitterly cold, 7 degrees in the caravan, and I thought I would just turn on the gas heater before getting up. But no. Not a sparkle was seen or heard. So no heating. Shiveringly I went to bed again, annoyed about the cold.

When finally I pulled myself together, jumped out, and put on my clothes, I immediately started finding out what was wrong with the heater. I managed getting the front cover off and was looking for the battery which I thought should be there. Couldn't find it. I gave up and tried to put the cover back on. Total failure. It did not fit properly but kept falling off.

Later in the morning my sweet daughter, who had heard about my trouble, told me that there is no battery in a gas heater, and the cause of its not working was moisture. All I had to do was to keep pressing the button till it gave a sparkle, and then open for the gas.

That sounded simple and turned out to be so. Suddenly it worked.

But the hard job was left - getting the cover back on its place. It took a bit over an hour and caused much swearing and sore muscles. Have you ever tried sitting, half lieing, on a cold floor for one hour while attempting to put a cover back in its right position on a gas heater with only very little space to work with?

No, you haven't. But now I have.

In the end I succeeded. The cover will never again leave its place.

But now I know what it looks like behind the cover.

It's no doubt going to be a nice day today. Not weatherwise. It's cold and windy.

No, we are both going to meet all (or nearly all) of my cousins. It is a family-get-together that we have done once a year for the latest 3 years, and it has always been a success. We shall be 23 in all.

This year may be even more interesting than the previous two. One of my cousins is a keen genealogist and has done a thorough study of my family on my father's side. He has gone back to about year 1000 and has found out that our family descends from a couple of Danish kings, among others Canute the Great who was also king of England 1016-1035. (See photo).

So. Beware. One day I might claim my part of England. I shall not be greedy. I think that Surrey will do.

Today is rest day after yesterday's excesses at our yearly meeting with all my cousins.

It lasted nearly 12 hours some of which were spent on a very interesting historical walk nearby looking at some old ruins. Fortunately the weather changed and became excellent, sunshine and no wind.

After that one of my cousins, the genealogist, told about all our ancestors. That was very, very interesting and gave extra appetite for the superb dinner that followed.

I liked the food and the red wine and had the lion's share of it all. That somehow might be the main reason for my resting so much today. I haven't raised from my sofa for anything but visits to the toilet and collecting food from the kitchen.

The latest two days were good days.

If you are bored stiff when visiting supermarkets or shopping centres - like I am - it is helpful to have some ideas of how to spend time in a constructive way.

My very sweet and eldest grandchild has given me some ideas. Let me pass some of them on to you:

1. Make a track of orange juice on the floor up to toilet door.

2. Find an employee and say, "We are having a CODE 3 in the toy department", and see what happens.

3. Start crying if somebody asks you if you need help, and scream, "Please leave me alone".

4. Go into one of the small enclosures in the clothes department, and shout at he peak of your voice, "Hey, I have run out of toilet paper in here".

5. Put price tags from HiFi equipment on vegetables - and vice versa.

6. Drop various items from occasional shelves into other people's trolleys when they look away.

I am sure these few and simple ideas will make time pass a lot quicker, and when you leave the place you could start a demonstration outside for organic trolleys.

Good luck.

Yesterday I gave you 6 good ideas of how to spend time in an interesting way in a supermarket.

Today I am going to give you 8 advantages of getting older:

1. Kidnappers are not at all interested in you.

2. In case of taken hostage you will be the first one to be released.

3. People no longer look upon you as a hypochondriac.

4. Yoy can do without sex, but not without your glasses.

5. Your investments in health insurance pays off.

6. Your secrets are safe with your friends. They cannot remember them either.

7. The number of new brain cells are now on a level you can handle.

8. Don't worry about putting your arm around another man. He will just think you are falling.

And thus uplifted you can continue enjoying each day you add to your age,

Last night Denmark qualified for The European Championships next year in Poland and Ukraine by beating Portugal 2-1. I didn't watch it directly because Matron claims that she hasn't got the nerves for watching it live. So she records it, and she (and I) can watch it afterwards without shaking all over.

So, I have to follow suit.

To be honest it doesn't really matter. I am not all that keen anyway.

But I must admit that what little I saw was very good.

So, England. Beware. I have a feeling that England and Denmark will be in the same group next summer. We intend to hit back on you to revenge the defeat in 2002 in Japan. Grrrrrrr, growl. Expect that a team of furious vikings will enter the ground. Grrrrrrr, growl.

I have pruned our plum tree today. All the top branches are no longer there. And I tell you, there were a lot of them.

And not only did I have to do all the pruning, I also had to cut all branches into little pieces of 10-15 cemtimetres and put them into a big plastic bag. A very interesting job.

The pruning was done with a long and heavy iron rod with a pair of scissors in the far end.

Imagine spending nearly the whole morning with your arms up carrying this heavy instrument, all the time pulling the rope to cut the branches. You wouldn't want to do that. But that was what I had to do.

Fortunately I wasn't alone all the time. As you can see at the bottom of the picture my good friend Buffy was there, looking admiringly at her clever and strong master.

To tell you the truth, she was rather waiting for a plum or two to fall down. She loves eating them.

I was on my bike today. 50 kilometers. The last 3 of them were extremely hard.

Let me tell you why:

In a village not far away from home I was overtaken by another biker. Well, this happens. And I have learned to live with it. But today was humiliating. I was overtaken by a young lady with a rather big bike trailer with two children in it.

I felt beaten, so something had to be done. I speeded up as best I could, and within a kilometer or so I managed to overtake the young lady and her heavy trailer. She seemed tough. But now I had to maintain speed, couldn't bear being overtaken once again. That cost and explains why the last 3 kilometres of my ride were so terribly hard. I was suffering after my efforts earlier.

Moral: Let the young ladies ride. Leave them alone. If not you will pay for it afterwards.

I've got a nervous twitching, tics.

A discription of tics goes as follows:

"Involuntary, quick, repeated and stereotype habitual movements. Ordinary tics can be sniffing, throat clearing utterancies, blinking, or movements of your head, as if you want to throw your hair back to its correct position, or as if your collar bothers you. Tics can also be more complex and seen as jumping or kicking".

All in all this does not sound very nice. And it isn't, I tell you.

My tics are caused by something simple. This afternoon Matron showed me an advertissement showing a caravan, a Sprite. Just the one she fancies.

As usual this made all my warning lamps flash. I know from bitter experience that it might be all but bought, even if she has only seen a couple of pictures of it.

My main job the next weeks or months will be to keep her as far away from any caravan dealer as I possibly can.

I shall never forget 2007 when we had no less than 3 different caravans just because I was 3 times persuaded to "just go and have a look at another caravan".

Excited spectators watched by a former excited spectator.

I happened to be near our football ground - on my bike - when it suddenly struck me that my team were going to play home today. I couldn't help biking up to the main entrance just to look at all the excited people going in to watch the game.

I felt quite strange. Two years ago I would have been there with my club shirt and cap and all. Now I was just a spectator of the spectators. Strange to turn around and go away without going in.

Now I am sitting at home, and Matron has just announced that with only 15 minutes left to play it is still 0-0. May we score just a single goal and our "nasty" opponents none.

As usual I dare not watch it directly on TV. I am recording it.

For some time I have not been to a McDonald's. I had too much a couple of years ago in London with our two youngest grandchildren. I just cannot eat the food in there.

Now I have got another reason for not going elsewhere.

Just the other day a shop assistant in a McDonald's in New York beat up a woman customer with an iron bar. He may have been provoked by two women who were not pleased with the assistant's doubt whether their 50-dollar-note was genuine. And they did use abusive language. But still. Being beaten with a heavy iron bar is not what you expect when you just want a "Double Cheese Burger". I am not sure that a "Double Mac Beatings" is on the menu - not even i New York.

Some people enjoy walking. I don't. I am so easily bored when walking. Nothing much happens, and I shall need a lot of persuasion to take just a short walk.

This is very much unlike a Canandian, Jean Béliveau, whom I read about today.

In 11 years he has walked around the world. 75.000 kilometers in all. He was 45 when he started in 2000, when his company went bankrupt, and 56 when he returned to his hometown Montreal just the orher day.

He claims that he did it in order to make governments all over the globe interested in creating "Ministries of Peace". I must admit, though, that I haven't seen just one of them yet.

In my mind he is mad, and he must have very sore feet.

But 11 years on foot is after all an achievement.

11 minutes is more than enough for me, and I should only do it if Matron promises me a very good lunch afterwards.

One of the ruins at HALD. There are four of them.

It has been a great day. Together with our three grandchildren and Matron I visited a historical place near Viborg. It's an old estate called HALD, and has been known since the middle ages.

Famous Danes have lived there. One of them was one Niels Bugge (1300-1359). He was the richest man in the country, but he did not get very well along with the king. So the king arranged for him to be murdered on his way back from a meeting with him. The murder took place at the town of Middelfart on Fuenen. Afterwards the king was evil enough to penalize the poor people of Middelfart for their deed. They had to pay a yearly sum to the estate, which they paid for many, many years.

Today the place is a training center and is still very beautifully situated in the heart of Jutland.

I think it should be a duty for all grandparents to take their grandchildren to historical places and tell about them. Then - as today - it is OK afterwards to visit "Sunset Boulevard" for a not unhealthy burger and a bag of not unhealthy chips. We also enjoyed that.

I had a new pair of trousers today. I didn't wish them, but Matron insisted that I did, since the pair I was wearing had a crack of about 8 inches near my back pocket. That didn't bother me, but I was told to join Matron on a trip to a shop with men's clothes. Matron had already phoned there, and a price of 50 pounds was mentioned. That shook me.

At the shop I quickly found out that the trousers were no good for me. They were baggy. And I already have a pair of those. But the shop assistant had another pair which he guaranteed would fit me and sit very nicely and tight on my muscular body. He was right.

But only now the price was 100 pounds.

I found that a bit steep and said no. But a quick glance from Matron told me that I would very much like to have those trousers.

So now I am the "unhappy" owner of a pair of trousers worth 100 pounds.

This was not a good day.

Influenced by the usual threats from eldest son about early wakeups, I once again have to bring a photo of a salmon he caught.

He got it the day before yesterday.

It weighed 6,5 kilos and was 90 centimeters long. Quite a beast.

I am proud that it was I who taught him to fish. We started in the harbour at Aarhus and later in various creeks and rivers. He was keen from the very beginning and has fished non stop ever since. Well, he now and then comes home to sleep and eat. Sometimes not even that. He fishes through the night and comes home the next day. He is just mad about fishing. That's alright. I love eating salmon.

I myself stopped fishing about 1985 when I started hunting. I have quitted that too. Haven't paid my shooting license since 2005. I didn't hit anything anyway. I just carried the heavy iron pipe around in the landscape and now and then fired it in the general direction of a bird - which always refused to die. So now I am just there with my trusty dog, Sydney, to find what others shoot.

And I won't stop that till I can no longer walk. Sydney is pleased with that. He loves it more than I do. And that's a lot.

It had to happen one day. Still it is surprising.

Today I read that in Toronto 100-year-old Fauja Singh completed the "Toronto Waterfront Marathon" (42,195 kilometers). It is all the more surprising since it's a fact that when you are over 70 years old, you loose about 30% of your muscle strength per 10 years.

Fauja Singh took 8 hours, 25 minutes and 16 seconds before crossing the line. It's about half the time I would take. I would want hotel accomodation for a full nigth's sleep on the way.

But I could bike the distance in about 2 hours.

To BBC the old man tells that the only reason he can do it, is that he never smokes or touches alcohol, and that he eats curry and ginger.

If that is what you have to do, I shall never complete a marathon. I cannot stand ginger.

First pheasant shoot this year was today. The weather was absolutely perfect for it. Just have a look at the photo.

I enjoyed being out in fields and forests in beautiful sunshine, enjoyed our very good dogs working on shot birds - and had a wonderful day.

Not until it was over I realized how much my back hurt from walking in the rough terrain.

I also realized something totally different, something I thought should never happen to me. I miss something only old people use.

I must buy a pair of suspenders.

The whole day I fought keeping my trousers up. And I haven't even lost weight.

So tomorrow Matron will accompany me to the same shop where I last Thursday (see diary) was forced to buy a pair of trousers worth 100 pounds. And if the salesman mentions a price that is just near to that, he has seen me for the last time.

I have done it. As I told you yesterday I was going to buy my braces today.

And I did. And nice they are. Look at photo.

Now I must look for an occasion to wear them for the first time. Since I don't see any festive occasion coming up in a near future I have to choose an ordinary week day. But that day might be a festive day for the one reason that I no longer have to pull up my trousers every 10 minutes.

Especially I am looking forward to wearing my new pair of braces on my next retrieve. Yesterday it was a bit akward walking around in rough terrain with your trousers around your knees. It also must have looked a bit stupid.

I saw my doctor today. There was no special reason, just my 6 months' check. Fortunately everything was fine, including blood pressure.

Is there anything as nice as leaving your GP having been told that you are fine?

I think not.

I have a very nice and competent doctor. He is very calm and nothing seems to surprise him, not even when I told him that I felt numb from my feet and down.

I was by Matron told to put up a Venetian blind. For once I felt confident. I have put up a great number of blinds in my long life. So I started in a good spirit. This was just a piece of cake.

But it wasn't. Since last I put up a blind they have introduced new brackets. And they are not for amateurs like me. I tried my very best to find out how to set the bracket. No luck.

Eventually I gave in, and using some not very nice words I entered my car and drove back to the shop for an explanation. And it had better be a good one.

In less than 15 seconds a kind, young man had shown me how to do it.

I didn't quite know how to react. But I told the young man that the setup guide was completely useless.

He nodded smilingly.

Have you started preparing for Christmas? A lot of shops in Denmark have.

And I hate it. My goodness. We are still in October.

But there might be one thing you could start doing yourself already now.

Learn the names of Santa's reindeer by heart. He's got 9 of them.

Of course you know Rudolph, the red nosed one. He's the youngest of them all.

But what about the others?

I didn't know that Santa had so many. We only seem to hear about Rudolph. What do the others do? Do they only eat and sleep? Are they never out with the sledge? Obviously not.

They are Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen.

You do learn a lot from my web site.

Is the kilt Scottish? The Scots and I certainly believe so.

The history of the kilt stretches back to at least the end of the 16th century.

The word kilt comes from the Scottish word kilt meaning to tuck up the clothes around the body, although the 11th edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica says the word is Scandinavian.

This is all very well.

But now some Austrian archaeologists claim that the kilt originally comes from their country.

Whom do they think they are?

Why are they trying to take away my childhood belief that nothing is as Scottish as a kilt?

They will not succeed.

The place where I lived for 11 years, 1943-1954, a homeless housing in Silkeborg.

What a super day.

After a few vain attempts to restart working on my (hopefully) next book, I eventually succeeded getting some very interesting writing done. Since yesterday I have worked hard and with great enthusiasm on the project.

So now I am "caught", I think, and will go on, till the job is finished.

Those of you with the better memory will know that my previous book, that was out in November 2010, was about Silkeborg Work House, 3 of them in all.

When I was 2½ years old, my father was engaged as caretaker at one of the three work houses. It had by then stopped as a work house and was now homeless housing.

I want to tell the story of this building from 1943-1962. I lived there from I was 2½ till I was 14.

I would like the past to know what it was like to live there, about the people, who were the lowest on the social ladder, the physical conditions, and a lot more.

So now it will be "new days" at our house. I shall no longer see Matron as much as I used to. I shall write. And of course there is also my bike to look after.

She will miss me.

Have a good look at the photo on the left. As you may have noticed it's a mill. This particular mill is situated very beautifully in the most mountainous part of Denmark, not far from Ebeltoft. But more important. The mill lies only a few hundred yards from the top of a "murderous" hill (i.e. mountain).

I went there on my bike and had to climb a number of other hills (i.e. mountains) before starting the climb of "Mill Hill".

Never before in my life have I been more happy to see a mill than this one. Told me I was near the top.

Never before in my life have I been so tempted to get off and push my bike. But I didn't.

Several times on my way up the hill I regretted having chosen that route. But now when I am back home I am very proud that I managed climbing it. "Well done, old boy", I said to myself. "You are nearly 71, but you've still got it".

PS: Matron woke me very early this morning asking if I had remembered setting the clock one hour back. What a question to a sleeping man in the middle of the night.

PPS: This morning Matron on TV saw and heard about all the blizzards in USA. Consequently I was ordered latest tomorrow morning to go to our mechanic and have our summer tyres exchanged with our winter tyres. You never know, you know.

Sitting quietly this morning at my humble breakfast, a piece of bread with cheese and a cup of tea, I noticed that Matron was writing a list of whatever it was, on a piece of paper. I thought it was probably her shopping list for the morning's "Tour de Supermarkets".

It wasn't.

The paper was suddenly put on the table in front of me with the words, "Now your wishlist for Christmas is ready".

I ran through the 19 points and found out that 2 of them were what I wished. The rest not, for example socks, shirts, underwear, sweaters, and gloaves.

I quietly mentioned this to Matron - without effect.

I was told that I did want all 19 items.

So, now I do not have to think any more of what I wish for Christmas.

I imagine that somebody might think that this story couldn't be true. But to you suspicious characters who doubt my truthfulness I have to say, "The story is true from beginning to end".

In order to comply with countless wishes of knowing how I live with my braces that I bought on 24st October (see diary) I want to give information as follows.

The greatest advantage is of course that now my trousers sit tightly and are not baggy. My muscular body has got what it deserves.

Disadvantages are a few more, but not unbearable. Getting your trousers on means a bit of wriggling and turning to grab hold of the braces on your back without breaking an arm.

You have to adjust the length of your braces. If too short, you will have a funny walk. If too long, your trousers will once again be baggy.

Visits to toilet is a chapter in itself - at least if you want your trousers down. If you wear a sweater it means sweater off - and later on.

Having loosened your braces you must be careful not to let them hang into the toilet bowl - both before and after.

But all in all I am pleased with my braces.

I am sure that with this indispensable info I have made my readers happy.

At the airport before they all fell asleep.

You will no doubt be happy to know that our humble, little kingdom to day was visited by English royalty. We had Kate and William here. I am not quite sure why they were here. Maybe they were just bored when they woke up this moning, and Kate said to William, "What are we going to do today, dear? What about a morning trip to Copenhagen to see how Mary and Frederik are doing? They perhaps are bored, too. Then we can sit down and be bored together".

"What a smashing idea", said William, "Let's do that".

And here they are. And I know that they had lunch together, and they all fell asleep, head in arms, at the table. They must really have been bored.

Who doesn't like Italian president Silvio Berlusconi? His charm makes him very popular, not least among female voters.

And he seems always to choose the right way out of any trouble that his country might be in.

Recently he was sent back from a meeting in the EU, being told that Italy most certainly would have to be very careful with its budgets, save at least 2,5 billion euros, and do all that can be done to create more jobs.

Mr. Berlusconi did not hesitate. He immediatly ordered 19 new cars for his ministers, armoured Maserrati Quattroportes. It happens to be the president's favourite car - and is terribly expensive.

When asked how he could allow himself such an extravagancy he explained that buying Italian cars would create more jobs.

So, no wonder he is popular. "Nothing is too good for my friends and I", he says.

A flour moth. We've got several of them.

We have got little insects in our kitchen. They are in flour, pasta, nuts, chocolate, oatmeal, and much more.

They are moths. In Denmark they are called "Flour moths".

Those little bastards have invaded our kitchen, and for the latest two days Matron and I have cleaned and scrubbed to get rid of them.

We have also sprayed. But since it is a kitchen, you must be careful. And that I was. I happened to have a spray meant for stables. It is supposed to kill all insects that dare entering a cow or a pig stable.

I was sure that would be effective, so I gave it a really good round of that. Now only the bravest moths will return.

And if you should happen to hear that we have both been admitted to hospital you know the reason.

I am tired. I am very tired. I am very, very tired.

I al also happy. I am very happy. I am very, very happy.

The statement in line one is due to the fact that I have walked much too much in rough terrain.

The statement in line two is due to the fact that I have had another wonderful day with my very good retriever friends on a very successful shoot.

In spite of all the hard efforts I think that days with these people and their dogs - and my own as well - are some of the most enjoyable days of the year.

I am already looking forward to the next one in a fortnight.

The small plastic gadget that caused so much trouble.

You will remember that last Fridady I told you about moths in our kitchen.

Now everything is scrubbed and sprayed and the 3 drawers on the right picture could return to their correct positions. I "reinserted" them to day.

This was no boys' game. A small, yellow plastic gadget on either side of the drawer (see left photo) had to be fitted. The nearest one was rather easy. But the one on the other side was nearly impossible, since there was less than an inch between drawer and cupboard door. My not so slim fingers hard a hard time. It took me 20 minutes per gadget.

After about an hour I stood up pleased that the job was finished.

But no. Drawer number 3 was where drawer number 2 should have been.

I started crying and told Matron that I would very much like to hit somebody. She ran.

I had no alternative. Drawers out and in again in correct order.

It is sabbath, and I shall spend the rest of the day doing nothing.

While I had our car washed Matron started her daily round in a local supermarket.

Having finished the washing I went to meet her. I walked around in the shop looking for her. No luck. I took another round. Still nobody to be seen that would call me "my husband".

Third attempt the same. She wasn't there. Now it was getting exciting. I went up to the cashier who knows either of us very well. I told her that I had lost my wife through 49 years.

She asked if I minded, and "No", she hadn't seen her.

Just at that moment I caught a glimpse of Matron walking into the vegetable department at the other end of the shop. I rushed up there and soon we were happily reunited. Then in all the tears and smiles Matron suddenly said, "Where's my trolley?" That I couldn't tell her. So my next search was that of missing trolley. Eventually it was found, and the three of us could happily walk to the cashier to pay.

I have often complained of autumn and winter. It may be a bit unfair to the first mentioned, even if I much prefer summer.

Autumn does have its advantages. It is shooting season, which is very nice, and it can give you some nice experiences in its humid beauty, for example like the one I had today at a Rosenholm Castle about 10 miles away. I jumped off my bike and took some photos.

Later I had an experience that was not so nice. A very big lorry was suspiciously close to me on the road, and nearly pushed me into the ditch or - even worse - might have run me over. There was only an inch or two between my left should and the lorry.

I am glad that I am an experienced biker. Otherwise it might have gone all wrong.

PS: Just for the sake: Our meteorologists had promised cloudy but absolutely dry weather with winds from the north west. Result: It rained two out of the three hours I was on my bike, and the wind was from the east. But it was cloudy. Two out of three predictions were correct.

There is plenty of room for improvement.

I had my dinner one hour early today. Not that I mind too much, but I must admit that it makes the evening longer.

At 4.30 Matron told me that dinner was ready. I protested vaguely, and asked her if she knew what time it was. She said yes, looked at her watch, realized she was an hour early, and asked me to eat.

I duly did.

One can only guess why she had lost her sense of time. I have a qualified suggestion.

She spent the whole day shopping in central Aarhus with our daughter and eldest grandchild. This must have confused her so much that she lost all ideas of time.

Surprisingly even to her shopping can be too much.

On November 11th in 371 a certain Martin was appointed bishop at Tours in France. However he did not want to become a bishop. He would rather be a simple priest. So he hid in the goose-house.

Perhaps he should have chosen somewhere else to hide. The cackling geese betrayed him, he was found and had to accept his new position.

As a bishop one of his first decissions was that each year on 10th of November (tonight) we should all eat goose for dinner as a revenge for their betrayal.

So that's what we do in our country, in Sweden, Germany, and parts of France, and probably more (England excluded - as far as I know).

Through the many years, however, goose has become a bit expensive, so now most people will eat duck.

And that is exactly what I am going to have as soon as Matron calls me. I cannot wait. I hope that I should also be allowed a glass of red wine with the duck.

PS: After his death Martin became "Saint Martin", and tomorrow is in fact "Saint Martin's Day".

Don't you learn a lot on my website? I think so, and so do my two dogs.

The happy couple af the correction of the groom's name.

Today, 11/11/11 is a very popular date for couples to be married. For that reason Danish city halls have been extremely busy marrying younger (and older) people.

It is a tradition in many towns that the mayor himself leads the ceremony. This was also the case in Holstebro, a town in western Jutland. 15 marriages were to be performed by the gradually more and more stressed mayor.

And it went wrong. When Majbritt Knude and her fiance faced the mayor she answered NO when asked if she would take Søren Frank Nielsen as her lawfully wedded husband.

People were laughing. The mayor looked around in confusion. Sweat pouring from all over. Never had anybody said NO in this situation. It only stopped when he was told that the name of the groom was Eriksen and not Nielsen.

Then the ceremony was completed in a correct manner, but still with a few laughs, as you can see on the photo, and Majbritt could answer YES when asked the second time round.

Now, what can we learn from this? Simple. It is better to be named Eriksen than Nielsen.

If you - like myself - are one of those who never pays attention when air hostesses and pursers demonstrate safety instructions onboard and airplane you ought to press the below link, and you may have a nice surprise.

A Swedish air hostess has started what might be a new trend. She raps the instructions. It is very entertaining, and you will notice how nearly all passengers pay attention and clap and move.

Switch on the sound and press the link:

http://www.bt.dk/utroligt-men-sandt/her-rapper-sas-personalet.

I am sure you will like it. I did.

I wish all the best for the England XI at the championships next year in Poland and Ukraine - except of course if they are to meet Denmark.

I watched some of England's game the other night against Spain. Unfortunately I must say that I was not impressed, but bored. There wasn't much sparkle in the way England played. And not a lot of quality either.

Of course I do know that England won the game 1-0, but I agree with critics who said that England bored Spain to death.

I'm not sure they can do that to other oppositions. At least not Denmark.

At Matron's request we were up very early this morning in order to go deep into the the EU, 1 mile across the border to Germany, to do some shopping.

We visited 3 big shops. (I cannot help naming them "Hell on earth". Matron has more positive names for them). She was in her shopping heaven and did her thorough rounds looking for anything that might be just a little bit interesting or expensive. I waited patiently and was only called for when paying was needed. My VISA card got burning hot.

I thought it a consolation that we now should have enough supplies of beverages, meat, all sorts of candy etc. for the next year or so.

Matron thinks differently and has already planned a similar trip in 3 months.

Our car is allowed to load 672 kilos. Had we had just one more coca cola, we probably would have been charged with overweight.

Good thing I knew when to say stop. (I didn't. But I like to think I did).

You will know that Matron and I were in Germany yesterday to fill up all stores. It's a 2 hour drive out and 2 hours home.

What you didn't know was that on the same motorway as we went on, and at the very same time, a drunk driver was stopped by a determined young man. By doing this he quite obviously prevented a major traffic accident.

The young man followed the lurching car into a lay-by. He contacted the driver and since he was not very coorperative the young man held him, till the police arrived. Well done, young man.

As it turned out the 57-year-old drunk driver had so much alcohol in his blood that most people would have died from it.

It was the first time he was stopped with an exessive BAC, and he had a valid license. He won't have for the next 3 years. On top of this he will recieve a suspended prison sentence, and will be heavily fined plus having to take mandatory driving lessons and a new test. He must of course pay for all that, too. He deserves every little bit of it.

How many of you have ever drilled with a proper electric drill in an ink cartridge for your printer?

None, I guess. I have.

Sometimes my printer asks for new cartridges.

4 of them. It did today. I'm not world's best in changing cartridges, but courageously I started. "No problem", I thought. But it was.

Before inserting the cartridges there are 4 little plastic gadges to remove. They cover the hole that allows the ink to come out.

2 our of the 4 broke and left a tiny bit of plastic in the hole. No ink would come through.

I tried to remove them with scissors, needles, pliers, tweezers, but all to no avail. Then my little grey cells started working and came up with a radical and ingenious idea. Why not take my drill and drill the little "bastards" out.

I did. And now my printer works to my full satisfaction. That explains the picture.

An important question has eventually been answered. Why do cows say MOO?

A German scientist has spent several years studying this all important matter. He has found out that there are several MOOs. They can express anything from pain to joy. They all sound differently.

So a MOO is not a MOO.

The scientist, Professor Jahn, has created a data base with all kinds of MOOs, so that farmers can learn to distinguish one from the other.

Obviously it would be helpful if a farmer could hear when one of his cows is in pain, and it would also be good for him to know when a cow is happy, sorry, or worried.

So, listen carefully the next time you hear a MOO. I certainly will.

Today, exactly 71 years ago, a handsome boy was born at 5 a.m. in Silkeborg.

His parents were so proud of him that they could not sleep.

They were also so proud that they gave him the proud name Gunnar, a first name of Nordic origin. It means means fighter, soldier and attacker.

He grew up and out - and still does. Out, that is.

He went to college 1958-1963, was in the army for 16 months 1963-1964, and served in the Danish School System 1964-2005 for which he after 40 years of faithful service recieved a royal medal in silver.

He is now employed by the Danish Pensioner System and expects another medal - this time in gold - after another 40 years.

Thus his future is well planned - and on Monday evening he is going to watch a football game, LIVE.

Matron is very keen on LOTTO. Every week she spends 100 Danish kroners on it. She may win the odd 40 kroners now and then - but no more.

Next week there is a record 102 million Danish kroners to win (12.750.000 pounds). And she has told me about her definite plans to win it. All we have to do is wait.

Today on our shoot a good retriever friend of mine told he had also planned to win.

I had to tell him that since Matron always gets what she wants, the money surely would be hers. He was sorry to hear that. Furthermore he thought Matron was much too old to win a big sum like that. She would only spend it on children, in-laws, and grandchildren. He wasn't even sure I would get more than enough for a bag full of used stamps.

He also told her winning would ruin his plans about full page ads in all big newspapers telling he had won the 102 million kroners, and that begging letters would be welcome - but not one of them would be answered.

Matron wouldn't do a thing like that. She would write, "To all you miserable scroungers all over the country who think you can benefit anything at all from my 102 million kroners: FORGET IT".

Flying the flag for my birthday. What else?

I have tried to restitute after yesterday's retrieve with a lot of walking in rough terrain. I was really worn out when I came home, and also when I got up this morning.

But restitution was not on Matron's plans for today. And I cannot blame her.

We are going to celebrate my birthday tonight with a big meal. Only nearest family, though.

Matron is just now preparing a superb dinner, saddle of venison with a lot of tasty things to go with it, and, I am sure, a lovely dessert.

Since cooking is not my domain I have done practical things like putting drinks in the fridge, laying the table, selecting redwine, hoovering, and other exhausting activities.

It is hard to be 71, but I love having the family in.

My bike was thoroughly cleaned today from all the dirt picked up the latest 5-6 weeks. I thought I gave it a good old scrubbing and polishing, lasting nearly 2 hours. Exhausted I went back in to rest and sit thinking of last night's festivities when my birthday was celebrated, and I had my biggest birthday wish fullfilled, a compressor.

Suddenly when sitting relaxing in my molded sofa, I once again had to realize that there is no peace for the wicked. Matron ordered me into the garden to clean up after her cutting down all our summer flowers. She claimed it was only fair since she always helps me picking up when I have cut our long hedges. This is not true. The latest 2 years I did it on my own. My objection was to no availe.

PS: I am very nervous. I am going to watch a football game. My club against Silkeborg. And Matron is a fan of the latter. Aarhus loosing would mean extra unpleasantness in our little home.

As told yesterday I had plans to go and to watch AGF v. Silkeborg at our home ground last night. I went.

I shouldn't have gone. It was simply miserable. We lost 0-2, and that to Matron's club. Should have been 0-4. She hasn't gloated, though. I might have done had we won.

I haven't been to a game since early April, when we were 1st division. The game I saw then was just as bad, even if we won, and I promised myself not to go until we had an unbroken series of victories of at least three. Well, now it was eleven including a couple of draws, so I thought it was time to be there once again. It wasn't. It was awful. We were bad. Especially in front of goal.

Now I have put up two conditions for my next visit:

A) 5 non-defeats in succession,

B) Must be no less than one year from now.

Quite often Matron in strong terms more than indicates that I am a masochist.

She always tells me when after a streneous bike ride I may moan and grunt in pain.

Every time I am told that I could have avoided all the pain and stiff muscles by staying at home, and that only masochists would expose themselves to such pains.

I oppose to this, but maybe there is a truth in her thesis - only from a quite different reason.

I confess. I am a masochist. Every morning I look at myself in a mirror.

I had just sat down to enjoy a TV-program on "History Channel" about German potato soup, an item that has interested me for years and years. I could hardly wait to see and hear about this traditional dish when Matron entered the room, and instead of potato soup "Heartbeat" was suddenly on. And for the umpteenth time I can now watch Greengrass trying to earn a bit of money on a doubtful enterprise that is always doomed to go wrong, and as usual Oscar is not in the best of moods, and Gina in a minimum of clothes - also as usual - is serving customers at "Aidenfield Arms". You will not be surprised either if I tell you that PC Rowan and PC Bellamy are busy catching criminals of which Aidensfield seems blessed with at least 2-3 per episode. With 2 episodes per day it adds up.

I dream of a life without "Heartbeat" - the series that is.

I've caught a cold - a bad one. It only allowed me 7½ hours' sleep last night after breaking out yesterday during my bike ride with coughing, sneezing, and grunting.

When getting up rather early this morning only for a couple of painkillers I asked Matron if she would kindly tell my employer (that's her) that I had to stay at home sick.

Right away she did exactly what my mother did when as a boy I tried to get a day off school. For 1½ seconds she held her hand on my forehead saying that there was absolutely no temperature so I'd better get up at once and get cracking.

I thought of that when dragging the vacuum cleaner around in the house.

In such cases there is no appeal.

And I do have a temperature.

I have been active today.

Because of Matron's change of attitude towards my bad cold which obviously she now recognizes, I was allowed to sleep till 10.15.

I got up, went to the bathroom, took my pills, had breakfast, did my crossword puzzle, wrote e bit on my book, had lunch, watched a few news on TV, played Bubbleshooter on the computer, dozed off for a time in my sofa - and now I am writing my diary.

I feel quite breathless and rundown by all those activities. I was not even permitted a break by joining Matron on her shopping raid at our local supermarket. I was annoyed about that.

I intend to be equally active tomorrow, and Monday I shall relax on a 35 mile bike ride.

While a hurricane is making life very difficult all over the country on this otherwise warm day (12 degrees) I cannot help thinking of the very same day last year (see diary 27th Nov. 2011). A mighty blizzard struck. Strangely enough I was out retrieving, and as you can see on the photo my car nearly disappeared in the snow. A big tractor pulled me out of the drift and only with difficulty could I make my way home.

Nevertheless I for once am a little bit optimistic as far as weather is concerned this coming winter. I do know that meteorologists are totally unreliable, but what I have read till now is that we can expect a "green" winter. That will please my old body and a lot of people in and around Aarhus who enjoy watching at me on my bike. They hardly saw me last winter for which I have recieved several complaints.

As mentioned two days ago and after yet another demanding day yesterday I today have relaxed by biking my 35 miles. It was pure pleasure and relaxation in nice weather and not too much wind, an abrupt change from yesterday's hurrycane.

Also it was a pleasure for me to pull in at our football stadium and remind myself that yesterday we won 2-0 at an away game in Aalborg. A useful victory. We are now number 4, which is much more than I had ever expected.

Just one more game, away against number one FCK, and the winter break is on - and I can relax even more.

Only few times have I been unlucky and lost a bit of money one way or the other. Last time was at a Seven-Eleven in Aarhus just opposite the railway station. I was going to Copenhagen by train for a meeting. I was hungry, in a hurry, went in, bought a sandwich and a Coke, paid with a 200 kroner note, got my exchange, and left.

In the train I found out that I had 100 kroners less than I should have had.

Annoying, but tolerable.

An Australian was worse off last week. He simply forgot 1 million Australian dollars at Cafe Marco in Sydney (about 70.000 pounds). Strangely enough the money is still held by the police. In spite of newspaper ads and radio messages the owner has not yet claimed it.

Had the police announced that my 100 kroners was waiting for me at the police station I would have picked it up.

This has not been an good day.

Well, a visit to our son who sits at home in his loneliness due to a twisted knee was encouraging. It was nice talking to him. Also it was good visiting some of my family in Aarhus.

BUT. Lunch was bad or rather, didn't exist. And that can upset me.

It also upset med that Matron did not keep her promise.

She had promised that ONE supermarket, FØTEX, just for a single item, would be enough.

I did not protest, partly because it wouldn't help and partly because I didn't have the courage.

Well, that may be as it is. But when the ONE supermarket was extended to THREE, and when it turned out that the 'single' item was a trolley full, I very nearly protested.

Fortunately I feel welcome almost whereever I go. That's a nice feeling.

But not so last Monday when I biked through the centre of Aarhus. I chose to ride through the pedestrian street from the cathedral to the railway station, mostly to rejoice that I did not have to go into a single shop.

Of course I rode very slowly and carefully and stopped when it was necessary. There were quite a few pedestrians, most of them happy and smiling. This, however, did not count for an elderly/old lady I saw some meters in front coming towards me. Her face had obviously been in vinegar for several hours before it was transported to the centre of Aarhus. When she came up to me she snarled, "This is a PEDESTRIAN street and not a biking street".

She was so annoyed that all the 'filler' in her face cracked, and the corners of her mouth were facing downwards and reached her shoulders. I did not feel welcome at all.

Lucky I wasn't on a motor bike.

I have been blamed today - by my own daughter. She has read my diary from yesterday about my little bike ride at the pedestrian street in Aarhus. I was told that I shouldn't do such things. I was a simple criminal and should be dealt with as such. And what if I had met a policeman. I would most likely have been fined 500 kroners. Matron was sure that fines have gone up by 100 percent, so 1000 kroners was the price.

I told them that I could easily talk myself out of a fine by telling the probably kind copper that I have a bad hip, and that my bike was a kind of handicap aid.

That was not recieved well by either of the two tough ladies. They are not easy to cope with.

I now and then - just as a thought experiment - ask myself what I would do if I did not retrieve on 8-10 shootings 8-10 week ends each autumn.

Well, it's not really a relevant question, because I love it.

I must admit, though, that leaving home this morning in storm and rain I did give it an extra thought. Why do I go out in weather conditions like that? Rain was pouring down + gale force 15.

The weather changed only a bit during the morning but still it was very windy and wet.

But I never gave it a thought. I enjoyed myself as much as I always did.

It's a funny old world.

Last night just before going to bed Matron, nearly sobbingly, confided to me that our vacuum cleaner was not well at all. The unfortunate little friend had trouble breathing deeply enough. I promised that first thing this morning I would give the poor thing a thorough examination and a diagnosis.

I did, and unfortunately I had to tell a devastated Matron that the poor creature had passed away during the night. We both expressed our hopes that he hadn't suffered too much in his loneliness.

After 10 years of faithful service it was like loosing a trusty dog.

But life must go on, so we went out to buy a new one right away.

2 x Føtex, 1 x Bilka, and 1 x DIY were necessary before we found the right one.

The now dead and trusty poor creature will at a appropriate ceremony be laid to rest at our local recycling site.

First snow this winter.

When I eventually decided to get out of bed this morning the air was full of snowflakes. They fell white and softly on our beautiful lawn and trees and also on our neigbours' roofs - and on ours as well, I suppose. A white layer of about a quarter of an inch or so covered everything. It might have been a picture for a Christmas card.

I have got only one comment on this the first snow this winter: "May the devil take it". And fortunately he did an hour or so later.

PS: Today it was entrusted to me to be the first one in our family to use our new vacuum cleaner. What a joy!!!!??????

I hope that Matron will be so pleased with it when she tries it that she insists that vacuum cleaning will be her job alone.

As it is now she is on less than half time.

I am certainly not a musical fan, especially not as far as the older ones are concerned. And even worse if they are American with Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly. They are both horrible.

Nevertheless today I got very occupied by watching old film version of "My Fair Lady" with Audrey Hepburn, Rex Harrison and Stanley Holloway.

I happened to zap by it.

And suddenly I found myself watching it quite intensely, remembering how much I liked it and listened to the music when I was 17 years old, starting my education as an English teacher.

I still enjoy listening to Rex Harrison's perfect pronounciation.

Today there are 17 days till Christmas Eve. And 17 is a special number to me.

I was born in a house that was no. 52. Then we moved to no. 12 and later to no. 30.

Just after our wedding Matron and I lived at no. 16 and shortly at no. 25.

At Aarhus we have lived at numbers 21, 14, 63, and 15.

I have got 16 cousins, 1 brother and had 1 sister who unfortunately died.

I have been employed by the Danish school system for 41 years, as a teacher for 7 years and as a vice head for 34 years.

Matron and I have 2 children and soon 4 grandchildren.

I have retrieved for 36 years, played cricket for 34 years, handball for 23 years, and followed AGF for 14 years.

Matron and I have had 7 caravans and 12 cars. Just now we've got 1 of each.

That's why 17 is a special number to me.

I have been blamed that yesterday's diary was confusing.

Quite a few people could not find any connection between all the numbers I mentioned and my "special" number, 17.

I find that strange. I thought it was obvious.

But to those few I can tell that our eldest grandchild is 17 years old, and that the National Day in Norway is May 17th. In Denmark it is June 5th.

Does that help? It should.

It has been a stormy day and has been so since last night. Gale force very, very high.
Up at Løgstør by the big fjord Limfjorden my old friend from the army and his wife live. They may be in trouble. They have placed sandbags in front of their house to prevent sea water from coming in. I have talked to them a couple of times today, and till now there have been only minor problems. But the storm goes on, and at flood time, about 3 in the morning, they will have to be up to check how high the water is.
Fortunately we do not have to worry about that here at Studstrup, even if we are only 2-300 meters away from the sea, and even if we are only a couple of meters above sea level.
Like the Danish king, Canute the Great, who once ruled England I can stop the sea from rising more than I can accept. So you can be sure that we shall have no floodings at Studstrup.

Sleep well. Youl will have the tiem for it now.

Beware if you are Chinese and employed by their treasury.

People working there are often accused of laziness and being indifferent during work hours.

Quite recently four employees were suspended when attending a conference directed towards uengaged staff who always do all but what they should do when working, for example playing on the computer.

The four in question simply fell asleep or read their newspaper during the conference, and their boss promtly gave them the sack.

That will teach them, I am sure.

We were unprepared, Matron and I, when today we bought our Christmas tree. We were not supposed to buy it, just came to think of it on our way home from a morning visit to a supermarket- We did not bring money enough with us.

This turned out to be an advantage. When the nice man with the trees saw the two old, worn out, and shabby couple looking like paupers, and heard about their money trouble, he obviously felt sorry for them and sold them a tree that would normally cost 200 kroners for 170. That was what they had in their wallets.

It's good to be poor. 30 kroners saved just like that.

From the beginning we had asked for a slim tree, and as you can see that was what we got. Very slim.

My only worry now is how we can fasten any ornament to the branches.

"It's embarrasing", said Matron today. I protested as much as I dared and claimed that it was necessary for my wellbeing. Without it I couldn't do all the daily work she wants me to do.

Unfortunately she thinks differently.

I have tried cutting down on it, but it nearly had fatal consequences one of which was that I couldn't eat properly and thus loosing my strength. That would no doubt lead to entering the vicious circle, circulus vitiosus.

Should the good lady - God forbid it - succeed in cutting down on it - which she probably will - I cannot guarantee what it might mean, except of course that I will have to get out of bed before 10.30.

What you probably don't know is that 61 years ago I sang in a choir. It was our school choir that benefitted from my beautiful tenor.

I still enjoy singing and do what I can in church or at other occasions with "singalong", also "under the influence".

That's when I really think I have a good voice.

I also enjoy listening to a choir music, not least when daughter-in-law and son are part of it.

That was the case last Sunday in a very nice village church. The choir accompanied "The Nine Readings" and sang quite a few gospels and other songs. They are an excellent choir, called "Village Voices".

I wouldn't mind being a member of the choir. The only problem is that it would mean 65 miles to and from.

Insanity is heriditary. You can get it from your children.
And I am at risk.
Unfortunately I have two raving mad, grown up kids who can still find pleasure in arriving at our premises at 8.15 in the morning just for the sake of awakening their poor, old father.
He is pushed, pulled, knocked about, rolled, tickled, having his legs twisted, his feet rubbed with an eraser, and not least sung for. Today their imagination was absolutely top. They did their wicked deeds wearing Christmas hats.
Once again I disinherited them.
May their socks shrink in wash.

My good, old friend from England has e-mailed me a couple of times asking me to send him a photo of me in bed at 10 a.m.

I have answered him that no such photo of me in bed at 10 'clock exists. There mey be a few from later in the day. I only want him to tell me exactly which one he is thinking of so that I can e-mail it to him.

Could it be the one to the left?

Only it was taken at 10.05.

A not very kind picture - even if it may be true.

Now and then you have to have a look at your list of who is your friend and who needs perhaps to be left out, for example due to bad behaviour.
Today a now former friend of mine sent me the two pictures on the left.
I feel offended because they seem to indicate that I am the person.
And that is not being nice to me.
Also the same "nice" lady had some unfriendly comments on my bike ride at the pedestrian street a month ago. She even dared writing them here on my website.
And the matter of the fact is that she is to be blamed for part of my light overweight. Just the other day she and her kind husband invited us for lunch. And let me tell you. There was more than enough food for a middle sized Danish town. And it was extremely good.
Perhaps she thought that I had a bit too much of it - which perhaps I did. And that's the real cause why she e-mailed the pictures to me.
May her socks shrink the next time she washes them.

It has not been a good day. Well, some of it has. The retrieving part of it was alright. But embrace yourselves for what comes next:
Arriving at the estate I found out that I had brought two right wellies. We in the higher classes do have two pairs. And I brought half of each.
Walking the whole day in a right boot on my left foot hurts. It hurts a lot, especially my left big toe suffered.
In spite of that and interestingly enough my retriever friends found it extremely funny watching my funny walk.
And that's not all:
Turning my car around on a forest path I reversed into a tree damaging my rear bumper and right rear light. In my claim to my insurance company I blamed the tree for the accident. Hopefully that will make my own expenses smaller.

For the latest 2-3 weeks handball has been on TV nearly every day, women's World Championships. I watch a lot of it. Not because I want to, and not because I enjoy it. But Matron does.

Handball bores me. It is monotous.

Today it has been on since midday and will go on more or less for the rest of the day.

It has, however, given me the upportunity of clearing away some of the mess in my little computer den and helping my good, old friend from up north with some computer problems. That made today a good day, and when Matron a few moments ago told me she has won 39 kroners (5 pounds) in Lotto it made the day a perfect day. Of course I at once told Matron how lucky I have been by marrying her. I knew from the beginning she would become an asset.

I went to the Toyota Hospital today to book a time for my poor car's operation as a consequence of the injuries that I inflicted on it last Saturday.

The consultant who recieved us seemed to be quite calm over the operation, but mentioned that it would last 4 days before Toyo could be discharged from hospital. I thought that was a bit of a long time. But the good doctor told that the examination must be both external and internal, and not until this is over and done with the operation may commence.

I was also told that no visits during the hospitalization would be accepted. Toyo will need absolute quietness. She will miss me, especially knowing that I will be driving around in another Toyota.

Monday, January 2nd is the crucial day.

Matron is at work today. Consequently I have had the whole day to myself.

Getting up this morning (10 o'clock) I had all intensions of cleaning up the mess in my little office. This has been on for quite some time, but every day I have either found a "good" excuse or another very important matter has come up, something that I urgently had to do first.

But today was the day. I was determined, went in, sat down, and switched on the computer. Not that I was going to do anything on it. Just a conditioned reflex.

I started fiddling around in all the heaps of papers, and suddenly my eyes fell on a sheet that I found extremely interesting in connection with my (hopefully) coming book. I started reading it, and before I knew I also started writing.

Tomorrow I shall try and put some order to all my papers - for the umpteenth time.

It complicates my existence that my back does not behave properly. When trying to get up from my sofa, after having sat restituting for some time the old thing protests.
Having struggled for quite some time I am back on my feet, only to find out that I cannot erect my back and have to walk like a penguin.
I am not complaining of the pain, because that is not bad. But the stiffness in my lower back is a problem. It means walking bent, head forward, looking down, hands behind my body, and with only small steps, like a penguin.
It must look absolutely stupid, but unfortunately necessary.
And there I am, hunchbacked and shaped like a hanger.
And besides there is the fear of being photographed. If so I must demand the picture to be taken from the side as indicated on the photo, and not from the front. This because a print of that put into somebody's photo album would make it impossible to close it.

Today, coming back from a visit to our local supermarket having bought (hopefully) the last few things for Christmas Eve, Matron a bit casually mentioned that my number two hate place BILKA is opened till midnight today, and that we were to go there.

I nearly jumped from fear and was very close to ending in the ditch with car, Matron, and myself. Already I saw my poor body trotting around at BILKA for more or less the whole evening.

A vague protest found its way over my lips but was met with silence.

I started sweating.

After some time I could relax again, though. Laughingly Matron said she was just joking.

Of course I was relieved, but I couldn't help telling her that such matters should not be joked with.

I am deeply impressed.
Entering the kitchen this morning an impressive sight met me.
The kitchen table was full up with all kinds of things for our Christmas dinner tomorow.
Matron was busy, very busy. She was frying two ducks, making rice pudding, preparing the pork for roasting, feeding the dogs, washing up in between, peeling almonds, etc.
I am really impressed by housewives abillity to grasp a situation like that, so many activities.
I would have run away screeming. But she just stood there, smilingly, while stirring.
Dear housewives, You are just good. Accept my deepest gratitude for your unselfish and hard work in the kitchen - especially at Christmas.
PS: My participation in today's preparations was limited to doing our beds, hoovering, clearing up a bit, laying the table for tomorrow, and moving our barbecue (heavy thing) and making it ready for the goose tomorrow.
Not a lot. But even so my lovely wife was happy with what I did.
No wonder I love her.

This is not complicated poetry nor prose.
Neither is it a difficult text on papyros found in a pyramide in the Egyptian desert.
It is simply a wish from me to you about a Merry Christmas.
Also I wish for you that you will get plenty of big presents and that you will win the next lotto.

Yesterday we celebrated Christmas Eve in the way we learned last year.

It might look a bit like "The English Way", just one day earlier. But never mind.

We met at 12 o'clock, had dinner at 1, the traditional Danish Christmas meal, duck, goose, and roast pork with plenty of trimmings.

Next a nice walk to the beach and back to the very nice rice pudding.

At about 4 we danced around the tree singing a lot of hymns. Next all the presents we given, but one by one to give ample time for everybody to see what it was. The gift distribution lasted about 3 hours with plenty of opportunity of having all sorts of Christmas candy, coffee, tea, and drinks.

At about 8 a small tray of open sandwiches was served, and at 9 everybody went home.

Till last year we always started Christmas eve at 6 a.m. Had we done that yesterday we would have finished at 3. a.m., and that would have been a bit late.

There is no doubt that in the future this will be the way to celebrate Christmas Eve with us.

It is a lot more relaxed, and even if you eat more or less the same amount of food as previous years you do not feel so stuffed. Another advantage is that next day you can eat normally which wasn't possible earlier.

Sydney, an ordinary pheasant and a king pheasant.

This year's very last retrieve was today.
It was special for 3 reasons:
1) It was the last retrieve in 2011.
2) It was 11 degrees warm. We are not at all used to that on Boxing Day.
3) I remembered to bring a complete pair of wellies, and not like the previous shoot when I brought two right boots.

Today was also special for another reason.
My trusty dog Sydney retrieved a King Pheasant (See photo). It is a lot bigger than the ordinary pheasant, and the one that Sydney found today wasn't even a big one. Its tail was just about 1 meter. Earlier this season we have seen tails of about 1½ meters.

Now the season has come to an end, and my dogs and I will hibernate. We shall sleep long in the mornings and rest our weary bodies in order to be ready for next season that will start in about 9 months.
Think of us tomorrow morning when the three of us are having a good, long sleep. But not too early. We shall not be up till after 10. What a blessing.

Matron was not pleased this morning. Her well known hawk eye caught some spots on her newly cleaned windows. See photo.
Once a month our window cleaner pays us a visit and cleans our multitude of glass. He was last here the day before Christmas.
Having assessed the damage Matron casually asked "Now, who might have done that?".
I did not remember being near the window, so I did not confess anything.
She asked once more, and I happened to remember that yesterday I cleaned my well known wellies on the table you can see through the glass.
I must have stained the glass doing that.
Running out of the door and deep into our garden I shouted my confession.
Tomorrow I am going to clean at least one window.

It seems to be very sad in North Korea these days. Their great leader Kim Jong-Il has obviously died. And every North Korean individual (if you can speak of individuals in that country) seems to be more than effected by the sad news.
We have seen countless pictures of people crying all over the country, ujp and down streets.
Even all TV commentators cry their eyes out.
I have a feeling that 1) Everybody is told to cry, or
2) They cry because they scared stiff of what will happen next.
I mean. I shall be sad the day our queen or any other well known person dies. And so will a lot of people. But you are not going to see us walking down the street sobbing and shouting from sorrow.

Have you planned your New Year's resolution? If not. Don't bother.

I have the words of a brain researcher for it. Your frontal lobes simply do what they can to stop a decission from becoming a reality.

Nevertheless I have had my share of resolutions through the years. But only once with success.

At New Year 1995 I hadn't smoked for 1½ years, and decided to start again on December 31st. However it proved hard to fulfill my resolution. Not untill after midnight did I in fact light my first cigarette.

But from then everything went smoothly till I definately stopped 10 years later.

I have no resolutions this year. It is not worth while. My success rate of 1 out of 60 tells it all.

What a miserable year 2011 has been, bikewise. I am a disgrace to the noble art of biking.

My target was as usual 2.750 kilometers. Only 2.312 kilometers have I done. 438 kilometers short. Humiliating. Not least compared with 2010 riding 3.181 kilometers.

My excuse for the poor result in 2011 is rain and storm. All year we have had it, and I have sat waiting for it to stop. It didn't.

To make things worse I have signed up with a new team from 2012. I left "Leopard Trek" and joined "VacansOleil" instead, and I expect to be met with reproach being as unfit as I am.

Consequently I do not expect to be selected for the first race of the year in Australia in January. Never mind. It's so hot down there.

On this, the very last day of 2011, I wish all my readers a Happy New Year with thanks for all your entries on my website.

I am proud that during 2011 no less than 115.918 visitors have entered. That's a lot.

I shall continue trying to make my website exciting and not least instructive, a part that I may have neglected a bit.

Now and then the old teacher comes back in my mind, and I cannot help passing invaluable knowledge on. As an example you ought to have a look at my diary November 17th this year in which everybody learns why a cow moos. Admit it. You could not have carried on living without knowing that.

Finally I should very much like to wish for you that tonight will be a pleasant night with plenty of good food and drink.

But don't overdo it. I see no reason why everybody else should make the same mistake as I.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Lying in my bed early this morning at about 12 o'clock I decided to get something off my chest, something that Matron had to listen to. I thought that this the first day of the new year would be an appropriate time to let her know.

She was watching TV in our sitting room.

I got up, went in there, straightened, cleared my throat and with a harsh voice declared that if by any means in the year to come she expected me to become more of an independant man with my own wishes for a pleasant life, and now and then defieing or perhaps even neglecting her many orders and work plans she was going to become disappointed. I haven't got the courage for such daring exercises.

How nice it was to get it out.

An eventful day. At 8 a.m. I took my car to the Toyota Hospital for a minor operation of its rear (i.e. "natibus"). It was hard saying good bye, and I had a feeling that my car did not enjoy watching me go away in another car.

Next I had to visit my dentist due to a 71-year-old tooth that more than anything resembled an old ruin. Just before Christmas it collapsed. I feared this visit, not because of possible pain, but because my nightmare was suggestions of an expensive crown.

And that was exactly the very first thing the good man said. He even suggested a porcelain crown, the most expensive of them all. Now I trembled.

I pulled myself together and managed to convince the kind dentist that it was impossible due to the financial cricis that characterizes the world of today, and that he had to come up with an alternative solution.

He finally gave in, and I left with a now rebuilt plastic construction that hopefully will last very long. To be sure I threatened that if not I would send my gorillas with their big number of baseball bats. I am sure that now it was his turn to tremble.

"It is no fit weather for man or beast", said someone (who?).

No matter who said it (I may give you the answer tomorrow) it couldn't possibly be said more appropriately about weather conditions as they are in Denmark today. It is rainy and windy. Grey all over. Dull. To make things worse we have been promised an extremely stormy night.

Nevertheless I have enjoyed my day. Matron is at work, and I have had all the peace I could ask for, cleaning my little den and organizing my photos on my computer. I have also had time to watch some recordings on TV and had a nice lunch (that I prepared myself).

Now I relax and wait for the sun to shine again. I know it will come out - sooner or later. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

PS: Matron just came back. In a way the sun has already started shining.

Great day of reunion.

Today my good car was discharged from The Toyota Hospital after its operation. I picked it up. It was a mutual joy.

The head doctor was pleased with the operation and the patient's behaviour during the whole stay.

Since the hospital is a private one and not covered by NHS, the patient will have to pay for the operation and stay. Fortunately a private insurance covers expenses, minus own risk, though.

The total amount was 9.797,79 kroners. Insurance covers 7.147,79 kroners. So the patient will have to pay 2.650 kroners (own risk). It is certainly expensive to be iinjured.

That's where it all started - but I do not complain.

This is going to be interesting.
I am sure that you are all dieing to see the church where we got married.
Here it is.
At our latest wedding anniversary shortly before New Year matron mentioned that it is a long time since we visited the church in which we were married 49 years ago, only a couple of hundred yards from where she used to live with her parents.
I could tell her that in fact we haven't been there since our wedding - at least not inside. So perhaps we ought to pay it a visit.
It is not diffcult to remember how the church looks since it was a bit special for the time it was built, 1952-1958. Quite a few people thought it was too "modern". We both liked it. The photo was taken just after it was inaugurated in 1958.
But neither of us remember how it looks inside. We ought to do something about it.

An important photo. My new bike team, VacansSoleil, a Dutch team. I have signed up with the team for 5 years.

Unfortunately I am a bit difficult to see on the picture, but if you look carefully you can see me just at the car. Of course I should have been up front. I wasn't due to a puncture, so I am on my way up. I thought the photographer should have waited for me, but he was busy and on his way to a nearby church to take some wedding photos.

As soon as possible I shall bring a photo of the whole team - including me. Here are all the names of my team. Notice the two Danes:

Kris Boeckmans (Belgium), Thomas De Gendt (Belgium), Stijn Devolder (Belgium), Björn Leukemans (Belgium), Kevin Van Impe (Belgium), Frederik Veuchelen (Belgium), Gunnar Rasmussen (Denmark), Martin Mortensen (Denmark), Romain Feillu (France), Johnny Hoogerland (Holland), Martijn Keizer (Holland), Pim Ligthart (Holland),Bert-Jan Lindeman (Holland), Barry Markus (Holland), Wouter Mol (Holland), Wouter Poels (Holland), Rob Ruijgh (Holland), Kenny Robert Van Hummel (Holland), Lieuwe Westra (Holland), Matteo Carrara (Italy),Marco Marcato (Italy),Marcello Pavarin (Italy), Mirko Selvaggi (Italy), Tomasz Marczynski (Poland), Jacek Morajko (Poland),Nikita Novikov (Russia),Rafael Valls Ferri (Spain),Gustav Erik Larsson (Sweden),Sergey Lagutin (Uzbekistan),Stefan Denifl (Austria).

A very international team. Of course I have known Martin Mortensen for quite some time.

Now then. What is going on? Is Rooney going to leave Manchester United?

"The Independant" of today seems to believe so.

Well, nothing should surprise you in proffesional football any more. I always thought that Sir Alex would keep Rooney for as long as he is in charge. But perhaps Rooney's drink problems have become too much.

I compare him a bit to Danish Nicklas Bendtner who just now plays for Sunderland, if and when he is not busy destroying cars, taking part in pub brawls or attacking innocent people who just happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Three times within the recent three weeks we have read about his unfortunate behaviour.

As long as Martin O'Neill keeps Bendtner I am sure that Sir Alex will keep Rooney.

Could you imagine Bendtner playing for my humble club or Rooney playing for Manchester City? Probably not, even if my, club due to too many injuries very badly needs an attacker. Perhaps Rooney would prefer playing for my club rather than for City?

First bike ride of the year was today. How I enjoyed all my painful efforts in the cold and windy weather. And I am not a masochist.
I did not go far, only a measly 25½ kilometers around our nearest villages, and I dared planning my route so that the hills came last. Everything went well. A good start to a new season.
I even had time to be helpful on my ride. At our local petrol tank I happened to see Matron in our car. She had just pulled in and stopped at some distance from the pumps. She doesn't like going there. It is not her favourite pastime. Obviously she was gathering courage to fill up the tank. So I generously stopped and did it for her. I've always been such a gentleman.
PS: After today's win over City I think that Sir Alex will not sell Rooney after his 2 goals.
PPS: I am going to watch Sunderland in a few moments, and I am excited to know if Bendtner will play.

I have just read that this summer's test series in England will be against Australia (and Later SA).

How I wish I could be there and watch just one of the matches. That would be a life dream fulfilled.

But unfortunately I can't. And furthermore I suppose that all tickets are already sold.

Never mind. Fortunately there are many other (domestic) things I am looking forward to.

I am going to become a grandfather for the fourth time.

Two grandchildren will have their confirmation.

Eldest grandchild will be 18 in April

There will be a christening some time in the summer.

We are going on holiday in our caravan.

We shall once again go and watch the regatta with all the big and small wooden ships.

A nice summer is waiting, I am sure.

For the first time for more than 6 months I have worked at my brother's company today, and I was there quite on my own. Since such a long time has gone since I last was there I had to have repeated a lot of things, how I work on their computers, how to use the VISA-terminal when selling books to customers, and how to operate their telephones. Quite a bit to take in for an old man in such a short time.

I am happy to tell that everything turned out well. Especially I enjoyed serving the young students who mainly come from the college where our son Peter studies, and who come to buy books. I enjoyed talking to them, and fortunately there was time for that, too.

Perhaps - after all - I should have been a salesman. I really had a good day.

A completely full parking lot at the hospital this morning.

Translation for you 'ignorant' English speaking lot. 'FULL UP'

I took Matron to work today. She is an inviligator, you may remember.
Normally she drives herself, but since today's exam was at a very big hospital, probably the biggest (and best) in Denmark where parking is more or less impossible, I stepped in as a 'taxi driver'.
Not only is an empty parking space hard to find at this hospital. Furthermore you must be prepared to pay dearly if you happen to find one. It would have cost about 10 pounds.
That's ridiculous. Imagine I were a coming father (only hypothetically) and was supposed to be there while my wife gave birth (still hypothetically) to our no doubt wonderful child, and the birth dragged out, perhaps 1-2 days, I would be ruined.
And just now parliament are debating the possibility of abolishing child support.
They must wait till parking is free at all hospitals.

In my younger days I often thought that older people who talked to and with their domestic animals were a bit peculiar. Maybe I even found it embarrasing. I don't any more since I found ou that it is exactly what I do myself. So now I consider it a human right and privilege for senior citizen
I can tell them anything I wish. I often praise them for their good behaviour telling them how nice they are. I also make no secret of the fact that this is the result of my giving them frequent good hidings, and that they are going to have another one in a moment. They still wag their tails, just as they do if I tell them that they are ugly and stupid.
So, they are good to talk to and never contradict like somebody I know quite well.
Just recently our little bitch and I got a new subject for fruitful conversations.
I say, "OOOOOOH". She finds something to put into her mouth, and says "UUUUUUH". Now we may spend a long time talking like that, and all the time she very intensely looks at me and follows me whereever I go.
If - only few years ago - I had seen and heard somebody else do like I do now, I would have thought "What a stupid fool" and have left the place thinking how embarrassing it was.

I hope you don't suffer from "paraskavedekatria". Because if you do you will feel very bad today. It is "Fear of the date FRIDAY 13th", today's date.
And just to upset you. Three times in all this year, a Friday will be the 13th., January, April, and July.
Some people think it all started because Jesus was crucified on a Friday but you can find other myths about Friday being an unfortunate day.
Some people wouldn't dream of starting a new job on a Friday. Others would not marry.
And of course the number, "13" is looked upon as an unlucky number. Many airports do not have "Gate 13". Hotels haven't got any "Room 13" or "13th floor". Some hospitals do not have "Operating Theatre 13".
Consequently when both week day (Friday) and date (13th) coincide you'd better stay in bed.
That was what I considered this morning, but I couldn't. Matron had left a note for me of what to do while she was away.
And that is another reason why Friday 13th is such a bad day.

Just these days I spend some time on scanning old photos from my childhood and youth and place them in good order on my computer. It takes time because I cannot help stopping and looking thoroughly at certain pictures, trying to remember what had just happened when the picture was taken, and what happened next.

A very nice trip down "Memory Lane".

Have a good look above at two of the pictures I found. Enjoy the sweet young boy (10 years old) and the good looking young man (17 years old).

Those were the days. Not a worry in life. Just cricket, cricket, and cricket whenever I had the opportunity. I was young and agile. Now I am just agile.

The two photos were both taken at the Silkeborg Cricket Ground in 1951 and 1957.

For the latest two days communication between Matron and I has stopped because of TV.

Our queen has been celebrated for two full days- It's her 40 years jubilee as a queen. It has been on from early morning till late night. Matron has watched nearly all of it resulting in two very "silent" days in our house.

I have tried to break the silence with my otherwise effective charm. No luck. I have tried catching her attention by announcing surprising events like, "Our plum tree is in full bloom". No result. Or, "I'll just pop down to the beach and have a nice swim". No result.

Fortunately celebrations will stop some time tonight.

But then, alas, I found out that throughout the following two weeks European Championships in handball (men) will take over. As a matter of fact it will start in a few moments.

So, here we go again. No communication. Glad we never invested in one of these modern, socalled "conversation kitchens". Would have been useless.

I have found a few questions that are difficult/impossible to answer.

Test yourself.

1. Why does a kamikaze pilot wear a helmet? Is he afraid of injuring his head?

2. Why is "bra" singular and "knickers" plural?

3. Why can't you have cat food with a taste of mice?

4. If 7-eleven is open 24 hours, why is it there's a lock on the inside of the door?

5. Why is the alphabet in the order it is?

6. If a person with split personality threatens to kill himself, is it then a hostage situation?

7. Today the temperature i 0, and tomorrow will be twice as cold. How cold will it be tomorrow?

I would be very happy if you could find the answers to just one or two of the above questions.

Please write the answer(s) in my "Letter Box". Click here.

Do you know a tiny and narrow road at a village named Lystrup, not far from where we live? Probably not. And I am nearly sure that it won't help you a bit if I tell you that the name of the road is Høvej (Hay Road). If by accident you have plans to ride your bike on it in a north westerly direction, I must warn you. Don't do it. Especially not if you want to live to see another sunrise.
It is a vicious hill.
I did. And I paid for it. How can an old fool like yours truly plan a bike route on Høvej so early in the season? I'll let the answer remain a secret. And all the time I knew that another 20-25 kilometers waited for me before I was back home.
My goodness. It was a "killer".
On the picture you can see what the tiny road most of all resembles. Only there are fewer houses - and no trams.
On my way up this "small" obsticle I observed an elderly couple out on their afternoon walk. They enjoyed it and had plenty of time. I could hardly overtake them.

The indicator on my bathroom scales stopped at X (X being a large number).
It took 20 minutes to reach that number, and on its way up I held my breath. This leads me to the conclusion that overweight may be fatal. You can die from lack of oxygen.
I would have liked the indicator to stop at Y (Y being less than X), and I wouldn't have lost my breath. But it is difficult for me to come down to Y since Matron going mad on her buying sprees cannot help bringing home various cakes for our evening tea.
And today's trend in Denmark is that no food must be thrown away.
Consequently I am trapped in my efforts to bring down the difference between X and Y.
It's a hard life.

Well, well. There you go.

The founder of my favourite hate store IKEA, Swedish Ingvar Kamprad has decided to express his gratitude towards one and all employed in the whole concern. He wants to give them all a bonus for good work.
In his decission lies a surprise. Everybody, no matter rank or position, is going to get the same amount of money, 8.000 kroners = 1000 pounds. Worldwide there are 126.000 employees which brings the total sum of the founder's generosity up to 1 billion Danish kroners = 125.000.000 pounds.

Well done, Mr Kamprad. Go ahead. I am sure you mean well. But you would make Matron happier by reducing prices.

Have a look at the picture. He does look a bit stupid, doesn't he? Wealthy people often do. That's one of the reasons why I don't.

I was left in BILKA's cafeteria for an hour. Matron claims that I am a nuisance in the shop. She much prefers to be on her own, and especially when it's with my VISA card which today was the case.

So I sat there, observing. And there wasn't a dull moment. Many people to watch.

Next to me sat a very big mother with two boys of 2 and 4. A war had broken out between mum and eldest son, a war of whom was in charge. The boy clearly was, but mum did no give up. At least 19 times she shouted the same threat, "If you don't stop I shall start shouting loud, really loud." No effect. The boy just carried on doing what he shouldn't do.

I thought to myself that if a woman of her size starts shouting really loud all glasses and plates would fall off tables and shelves. Luckily she did not carry out her threat.

Shortly after dad arrived. Not that it changed the boy's behaviour, but an armistice between mum and boy immediately came into force, and they all left the cafeteria leaving a blessed silence.

Another time I shall tell you about the menu you can have. And mind you. It is not "Fast Food". It is "Quick Food". I wonder what the difference is.

Right next to my bed I have a very clever "machine". Every morning I can read indispensable information from it, date, weekday, time, pressure, weatherforecast for coming 12 hours, sunrise, length of day, sunset, humidity in and out, temperatures in and out, and latest 12 hours' pressure and temperatures measured every 2 hours. Fantastic.

The information that I just now more than any enjoy is length of day. I love being told that it has increased by 3-4 minutes since yesterday. Today it is 7 hours and 59 minutes. On December 21st 2011 it was only 7 hours and 3 minutes. Wonderful that 56 minutes have already been added.

We are on our way towards much brighter days, lovely.

How I am looking forward to June 21st when it is 17 hours and 29 minutes. By then I am sure I will get out of bed a lot earlier than now, and still be pleased with it.

We celebrated eldest son's birthday this afternoon at a wonderful restaurant not far from where he and Anette live. The restaurant lies beautifully at the bottom of a very steep hill (i.e. mountain) that twice has caused me so much pain to climb on my trusty bike.

We had tea, coffee, and an orgie in all sorts of very nice cakes. A buffet. Never before seen anything like it. You could eat as many cakes as you wished. And I did, plus a little extra.

In principle I am against eating many cakes. But I I had to forget my principles not to disappoint and insult my hosts. I thought that I could just climb the hill on my bike after we had finished. That would "neutralize" at least 5 of the cakes I ate.

Only too late did I remëmber that I hadn't brought my bike. So I went in my car.