Just back from Norway this morning where it was, without exception, absolutely taters. Had lots of fun though, which warmed the old cockles.
I was there for a cracking gig in a small Norwegian town called Hamar, near Lillehammer (which means Little Hammer, fact fans), at which I was plied with free beer and cashew nuts by the owners of the venue. Given the thunderously expensive price of beer in Norway, this was, as they say, a right touch.
Happily, my presence in Norway meant that I could fly down to Stavanger to catch up with my friend Wenche (pronounced ‘venker’ of course, not as in a bosomy barmaid in a lace-up bodice) of Attention All Shipping fame. You might recall that I first bumped into Norway’s finest primary school teacher on Utsira, and as it turned out last weekend was the exact third anniversary of the Utsira football club jolly-up that was the highlight of my first shipping forecast expedition.
We will always have the post-traumatic bond of a weekend in the world’s most boring town too, of course, an excursion that still causes both of us to wake up shouting in the middle of night.
I hadn’t seen Wenche in a couple of years, so it was brilliant to catch up with her over a curry, a beer or two in the Newsman bar (where I bumped into her by sheer chance on the way to Hanstholm) and a couple of days’ wandering around Stavanger in the cold, photographic evidence of which can be found here.
Managing to be at home for a whole four days before going off gallivanting again (my nan always used to get the words ‘gallivanting’ and ‘philandering’ mixed up, which was interesting when she wanted to tell me my mum was out gallivanting), yet still managing to squeeze in The Oldie magazine’s 200th issue birthday jolly up tomorrow night. A full report will, of course, appear here – just listen out for the thud of dropping names.
Oh, and how nuts is this?