A note on being 30 and single
It sucks. Don’t do it.
I am writing this drunk in the hope that my sober self will be able to learn lessons from the untethered id that presumably reigns suprememe when bladdered on dsome law students’s excellent punch. Tonight I went to a gig which was quite gopd. met a musicuian about my abe (male) and got fsking ratted and smoked a l iitel of thwe naughty bacco. The party I was at was a more a sitting around listening to 60s prog rock type affair so when ppl strted to mocve out I though it’d mod with the,. fusj theis is har when you’re this tanked. And to this I have to go to bed in a minute. fauick. anyway. I ended up introducing myself to a bucnh of foks who were having a party on the same street and they rtunred out to be a bunch of law students. they were dancing to Wham! they were all 22 and theyt were mostly spoien for.
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# Sory folks, sober steve doesn’t want you to see this bit - Ed
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I hope to godf I edit this when sober b4 any body alse reads it.
# Here’s hoping -Ed
Bollocks
Too pissed to slepp.
bye
Gaaargh. Brain’s full.
Bristol was a larf. Next time I *may* take the whole week for it. Though if I had, GAK what state I would be in by now - as it is I am suffering my first glandular sore-throaty thing for about 2 years. Over the last week I have been making great progress in some internal transformations and renovations. Some ppl who have known me for a long time (~7 years) have told me I’m less nice than I used to be. Ppl who knew me longer than that don’t seem too bothered. The key is that the ppl who met me in 1995 met me when I was starting uni, when there were no deadlines, just a blank page and all the resources in the world to throw at it. I had a house of my own and could play at DIY, computers, wacky sculpture and costume making, was in a band, etc.etc. More importantly to this story is the fact I was also incredibly foolish then and neglectful of many sensible things like my finances, management of my time and looking forward to where I will be when I am too old to fend for myself in the big scary world. Part of the problem was my over-developed sense of Faith in my Fellow Man(TM). FIYFM is IMO one of the cornerstones of a functioning society, and absolutely crucial to close friendships and relationships. Well, the house I had was in a scummy neighborhood and representatives of the council and police misled me a merry dance, forcing me to the conclusion that I was very much Alone In This World. The one thing that I pulled out of this was my degree, which was kind of my escape pod. I decided that should I fail to get a good qualification then ‘they’ had won - so no matter what else was going on I would fight for that and hold onto it.
The following 2 years saw me gain strength, as my then-beloved Jenny helped me to get into a hitherto alien frame-of-mind, which I will call ‘judgemental’ - though not wishing to mean that in a negative sense itself. I had slipped into a trap: from the germ of wanting to be a non-judgemental person in the sense of judging others I had progressed to suppressing my common sense and even any regard for the material consequences of my actions. In short, I was making real decisions based on a purely emotional evaluation, with the result that I was extremely kind, pretty happy, very easy to rip off, permanently broke and surrounded by clutter, and late for everything that I didn’t forget to show up to entirely.
Part of the process of becoming a judgemental person led to an incompatibility with the very beloved Jenny who had taught me how. As I began drawing boundaries and learning to ‘focus’ - identifying new things as either beneficial or detrimental to what meagre goals I had - I was eventually forced to view Jenny as an opponent. I also judged my workplace to be on the whole detrimental to me, and eventually quit.
So by this point, I have sold my crappy house, quit my negative job and dumped my fiancee. And I’m feeling pretty positive about it all. I am finally in command of my destiny, and what is more, I’ve now far more of a clue about cause and effect and am freer than ever of the wooly-thinking passivism that had passed for my morality. This is not to say I am now an immoral person, just that I base my morality on judgements of the apparent facts, shunning self-denial based on facts that are not apparent.
This new approach has done undeniable good in some senses but has left me insecure in other ways (for reference, I was born insecure - the only time I was relaxed as a baby was when I was sleeping, so this is not such a melodramatic thing as it may read) the problems as best as I can presently identify them are:
1) When you start judging situations and people, you have to learn when not to speak your mind. This takes practice that I have not yet had.
2) Great, so I can ‘focus’ on goals. But what goals should I have? What will make me happy and how do you decide what is worthwhile? I dunno.
3) If you disregard all facts that are only guesses, won’t you get bitten on the arse sometimes?
4) Human error. I have a lot of this. In the old days I was simply too lethargic to act on my impulses, and everything went smoothly (the fact it went smoothly away from me and into someone else’s pocket is material here!) Nowadays I do quite a few things that I immediately regret. But I would rather regret things I have done than regret have done nothing.
On the upside, I am now flush with cash, work with people who seem to give a monkeys, have achieved satisfying results at work and online elsewhere, and can (nearly) run a home smoothly. For these reasons I do not want to revert to the ‘old’ me c.1995 because you project that one to the age of 55 and you see a lonely old man who is shunned by his neighbors and hasn’t got enough cash for clean undies. However, the current me is not properly adjusted for my own enjoyment. The next step has to be something along the following lines:
1) Shut Up
2) Slow Down
3) Quit Fretting
Just a small application of all three should lead to a smoother interface with the rest of my subjective universe. It’s tricky when your job (which you love) spends all day accellerating your head; but even there, with my last performance review we agreed that a slower, more methodical approach would be beneficial.
So in summary, if you fancy doing me a favour, and you see me doing any of the above, just give me a quiet reminder. I’ll probably appear not to notice at the time but it will sink in…
Well I had no idea what I was going to write when I fired up blogger, I was killing time while gcc failed to compile on an under-spec linux box in the office, but that turned out to be a bit of a deep one…
Drivers
Very patient and considerate. Cyclists get a whole lane’s berth where possible, but nearly always at least a car’s width. Oncoming traffic will slow down to let the overtaker give you room.
Where the road curves at a T junction, the driver on the main road will often signal to indicate he is NOT turning, I think this goes back to the “give way to the right” rule which applies at junctions without marked priorities.
In towns, pedestrian crossings are often right by junctions. When you get the green man you may find traffic approaching from your left. Be bold! It will give way to you! (should :-) )
Drunkards
Scary. The Swedes at home are like the Brits abroad. Alcohol seems to lead to chanting, where there is an MC and a call-and-answer type arrangement going on. One group was singing “we’re gonna bring you HATE we’re gonna fsck you UP” which I didn’t fjnd intimidating no no no yes.
Girls
Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of fit girls in Sweden, they dress well and there is a preponderance of blonde pigtails (though there is a LOT of bleaching going on), but they seem a little on the neurotic / anorexic side to me. Give me the wholesome open smiles of the Dutch any day.
Boys
I’m not sure how LP is on blond hair, but I think he might have been a wreck in stockholm, foaming at the mouth. That’s if he can get through the whole socks-and-sandals thing, which even the hippest young things do here without shame or remorse.
Folk
Friendlier than Germans :->
Language
Less funny but more bonkers than Dutch. You can see the connections between northern English place names and Swedish, e.g. Many districts are called (something)lund, and many coastal areas are called …sund; so Sunderland may mean something like land of the river mouths.
The word “by” means village, and they have �by, mj�lby and even a sleby, so a Swede should feel at home in Yorkshire, with Selby, Huby, etc.
They shorten “ja” to “a” and sound like Yorkshiremen. I have heard them say “hallo” for goodbye. I still don’t know how to say “hey!” in swedish, since hej is hello.
They emphasise the wrong syllable, so words that look easy are hard to listen for, eg: centralenstation sounds like “cenTRAALenstaCHOWM” where ch is as in loch, and Hagakyrkan sounds a bit like “HAA-agaSHEWRkan”. Also the pitch varies with emphasis.
The ee sound can have a slight L in it, like throat singing.
Verdict
Recommended, unless you are poor.
10:11 It takes half an hour to walk from the cycle hire place to the bus stop. Allowing half an hour for the talkative lady at the bike shop meant i was pedalling up the hill at 930 with backpack on, getting funny looks from the postie and other motorists. After exchanging pleasantries the lady offered me a lift to the bus stop so now i am 5-0 down at abologne and wishing my ticket was valid on the earlier bus.
Can now say “tack se mycket” - thanks a lot - and can nearly hear the numbers. It was weird at the salsa class where the counting misses out 4 and 8 anyway: “ett, tvo, drie… fem, sex, sju” where sju is pronounced more like “hugh”.
The weather has finally given up and admitted it is autumn. Perfect timing for me, i get to acclimatise to september before getting on the plane… And i get to wear the warm waterproof i bought especially for the trip and has lain at the bottom of my rucsack ever since.
11:39 heh, this small-town railway station has nothing on it in the way of benches or shelters, just a bunch of college kids sat around cross-legged or with legs dangling over the edge of the platform. By the time i took the photo the bell had rung to signify the train’s arrival, and everyone had stood up.
14:52 the change of trains at Gborg went smoothly. Unfortunately my “window” seat is next to a support pillar 2 feet wide so i can only see out the window if I lean forward at some improbable angle. Ho hum. 1 hr down only another 2.5 hrs to go. Working on some compering ideas… Thought of a great joke last night but can’t remember it at all today…
19:15 ah this is the life, back in bonnie old Stockholm, booked into the boat-hostel AF Chapman and spending the rest of my krona on a swish meal. Got chatting to a hot looking swedish lass on the train, but she was too young and too tall for me so I didn’t try anything, even when she said she would like to see Manchester… I’m having a little trouble writing this as the service keeps popping up with another task - taste the wine, choose some bread, no some more, here’s a wee appetiser… The walls are decorated with tasteful nudes (ie no nipples) and a theatrical theme. The ambience is only tempered by the pickup that just pulled up outside the window advertising “club priv�: striptease, massage, bubblepool, erotik dusch…” dang! I just spent my last Krona on food :-)
19:39 i have to keep telling myself I am the customer, I must be right, but I can’t help glancing surreptitiously around to see who is usinq what fork, where they put their butter, and how they wear their napkin. The trouble with polite society is though they know this stuff they’re too polite to say…
20:17 just got the bill. Whoops, perhaps the glass of wine was a little extravagant @ ukp6.50 ho hum, that’s got rid of my last kronas anyhow!
20:55 there was a moment of tension when i put no tip on the slip- i had kept 50kr back for that and a further 20 in case of the need for a trip to the bathroom whilst still in Sweden. Good thing too: the wily old fellow who slipped my coat off on the way in stung me for 10kr to get it back again on the way out. I’m now down to loose change so it could work out pretty well. I’ll end up saving the change for my next trip and then Sweden will go Euro…
11:09 well i have seen about as many rock carvings as anyone could want to see in a day. I read in the guide book that the carvings are often made where water runs down, and facing the rising sun, providing a “treat for the early riser”. So i set my alarm for 5 and retired early to my cabin. At 5 the cabin was freezing so i put off getting up for as long as my bladder would allow, getting to my first rock-carving @ c.08:30. From the special treat point of view it was a bit of a let-down as there was very little running water, but the carvings themselves were really cool, 2300 to 3000 years old, with explanations by them. Most had been coloured in with red paint by researchers, but a few were not. (it’s not known whether they were painted in their day)
Startled a mink about 2m away from me, it had legged it by the time my camera was out :-(
11:37 Now loafing around a closed-for-the-off-season resort (tanumstrand), sunbathing and trying to gather the courage to bathe in the still waters - having seen a couple of Swedes screech in horror upon jumping in…
This afternoon is hopefully when i finally get to see my rune stone! Unfortunately i left my guide at the cabin or i might have taken on something a little more adventurous, but I hear there is a stone near the church at tanumshede.
13:45 just freaked out - while i was sat on the can i felt a nibble at the back of my neck. Brushed it off, and one of the freakiest creatures i’ve ever seen fell into my underwear and started making for my leg. I’m pretty sure it was a tick. I don’t know whether i felt a bite (i thought you did’t feel tick bites) or it was just pushing with its legs having been trapped in a fold of skin at the back of my neck, but i have just spent a freaky 10mins wondering about limes disease and resolving not to forget travel insurance again. The tick was not bloated so i don’t think it had drunk yet-IIRC the danger comes from squeezing infected blood back in. It’s times like this when it’s definitely better to have a travelling companion, it’s hard to examine your own neck!
14:50 made my way back to the beach and got the nerve to go in the water. Cold at first but smooth and clear. I could get into this Swedish lifestyle… Oh, i just did! Just let my things dry and its off to the rock carving museum, then me rune stone. I’m making my way around on a hired cykel (”soo-kell”) which the lady in the shop told me “it’s a Lady Bike, but i think you’ll like it - it has 3 speeds.” She seemed chuffed to bits when i tried a bit of Swedish, and i noticed she used “pr�t” in the sentence i took to mean “ah you speak a bit of Swedish eh?” - again, dutch “praat” is talk, and south africans say praat in this context.
17:25 woo hoo! Got me rune stone! I’d heard it was ‘by the church’ so first i rode round the church looking for a tourism sign like those that had announced the rock carvings. No dice. So then i followed a promising-looking woodland trail to find it went to the backs of some people’s houses. Then i saw a tourist board but that only explained the church. Eventually i was about to cross the road to get a good look at the church, when there it was by the roadside, at the far side of the pedestrian crossing! I suppose rune stones would have been next to highways in order to be read, and many of those highways will be today’s secondary roads. In Sweden, rune stones are a dime a dozen, hardly worth batting an eyelid at.
23:58 I’ve never found thunderstorms that scary, except of course when they creep up on you and the flash and the bang happen at once. But when you are butt naked, alone in a 2m x 3m wooden box on a hill next to a tree and all you have to go on is a wee diamond-shaped window in your door, and it rips you from your sleep into that surreal world before waking proper, trust me, THEN it’s scary. I’m doing my best not to let the phrase “all gods are bastards” even cross my mind since the best earth i can think of nearby is the power cable to the reading light above my head. Mummy!
9:41 well i have the rest of my transport worked out. I just have to make sure I catch it. I now have two hours to kill but the museums don’t open for another hour. This is a bit disappointing as I was hoping to see sweden’s only viking ship, but it’s a way off and I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it if I was clockwatching the whole time. Time to take a few pics of the harbour i reckon. The formula for seeing Sweden seems to be to avoid mixing travel and sightseeing: use one day to get somewhere and book your next hop, maybe sort out provisions, then the next to do the sights. Pray that the second day is a tuesday to friday.
12:39 Woo hoo! En route to the harbour to take pictures I passed the stadsmueum and it was open so i got to see my viking ship. There were some very cool artefacts and tales of bloody battles. The museum lends you an english translation but the swedish is much cooler, with the word bl�d occurring plenty, and lots of k’s and y’s giving it that olde worlde feel.
I also managed to come across a booklet giving a suggested tour of the rock carvings where i am headed tomorrow.
11:03 Gborg & Shlm are very different indeed so far. In Shlm the Swedes are clearly a race apart. In Gborg the locals are just folk, though with a bias towards blond hair and the ubiquitous socks - and - sandals.
19:22 i’ve just realised i am wearing my white t-shirt, having just ordered red wine. And beetroot soup…
I’ve also discovered how hard it is to sneak 200kr out of your moneybelt at your back and into your wallet, when said moneybelt also contains a wad of english notes and your receipts for your trip so far. Tonight’s meal is in Krac�w, one of the many Polish restaurants in Gborg. My guidebook recommends the beetroot soup and pancake. With luck that’s what I’ve ordered…
20:04 mycka bra, as they say… Now stuffed full of Polish goodness and looking forward to an evening’s laundry.
20:56 ah good. Missed my laundry slot too. I guess i should just fsck off to bed and start over in the morning.
Score tally, day 7
museums: 1, closed
cool cars: 2
little girls that look like pippi l�ngstrump: 1
parents catching me trying to take a surreptitious photo of their young daughter: 2
swedish chefs: 1, in a polish restaurant
11:22 surprised myself by getting up fairly smoothly at 0515 to catch the f�rje. Once about it was a mad rush to the breakfast buffet - the Swedes get as pissed off as the brits at people pushing in but they do a lot more of it. Buffet was: bread, cheese, salami, ham,rye bread, tomato, cucumber, pickled gherkin, yoghurt, muesli, herrings in tomato sauce, mushroom omelette, fruit salad, hard- and soft-boiled eggs, cereal, orange juice and coffee. Many people came close to having all the above. considering it was ~ukp4.50 and everything but the rye bread and cheese sucked, I don�t blame them.
Spent the rest of the trip feeling slightly sick and managed to catch a bit of Lattjo Lajban - the show whose website hosts the Bilbanen scalextric simulator - but didn’t see any parrot. 50 games of hMaki and one swedish-subtitled robot wars latre, and I�m on the express bus back to stockholm ready for my connection to Gothenburg. Where it willl be Monday, thus everything will be closed.
I will be giving the volvo museum a miss as you need a car to get there!
13:03 can you credit it? I booked the train to go to gothenburg and was asked if I wanted a return ticket. I asked how long it was valid to which she said I have to know the exact train I want and it’s no cheaper! I guess the main advantage is that you get a seat at all!
13:09 aarg! so I decide to plan ahead and find out about the sleeper train north from gothenburg. The office opens 14:45 today, 35 mins after my train departs!
16:08 urg. 2 hours down, 1.5 to go on this train and I swear if I get one more tall slim blond Swede’s pert little ass shoved in my face I�m going to grab it. And that�s just the lads.
19:09 Well THAT was a journey I intend to avoid in future. 13 hours after bounding out of be into yesterday’s clothes I arrive inGothenburg, ask the nice lady to explain the trams and make my way to the G�teborg mini-hotel, which is a hostel in the SVIF (the STF’s bastard half-brother) gborg reminds me of Londin, for the mixture of races and the slight shabbiness of the buildings and inhabitants (compared to Stockholm), and Amsterdam for the canals (made by dutch engineers) and the trams. The hostel was a shock at first, variuos aftricans hanging around outside and in, which in the movies would suggest a pending knifepoint mugging scene. It�s a funny feeling to be ashamed of your prejudice at the same time as fearing for your posessions. My mood was not really lifted by the fact that one of the two white people in my dorm of 8 put me in mind of Daffy from The Beach. To cap it all there are no lockers for dorm guests. After the initial shock, I switched to “travelling in asia” mode + moneybelt on, everything hidden, mugging money separate, and felt a bit better. The “mini hotel” is very clean - not quite as clean as the Khao San Guest House in Bangkok which was tiled up to the ceiling, presumably to facilitate hosing away all the blood, puke and other excreta. I got the felling here that bloodstains would stay on these walls, and I couldn�t see any so that was cool. Hmm. Does any of this relate to a 5am start?
Gburg is much more bohemian than the other places I�ve seen in Sweden - there are musical instrument shops dotted around, an art college, jazz clubs, a restaurant run by the Hare Krishnas and various arty characters including a transvestite who passed as I was ordering my food. He didn�t seem to be trying to be a woman, but was wearing a sheath skirt and lipstick.
I’m eating posh tonight - Smaka is the restaurant, doing Swedish cuisine with a nod towards haute cuisine and a backdrop of chilled jazz breaks. The starter of salmon with “stuwed” potatoes and mustard dressing was fantastic, and I finally got to have meatballs!
Score tally day 6
Skijump Noses: 220
meatballs: 6! woo! yay!
epic journeys: 1 x 13hrs
Prehistory: saw some way cool stuff from the train. After my CBT I may come again and just check out runestones, cairns et al.
13:08 a frustrating morning: up @ 7, packed @ 8, breakfasted by 9, hostell reception closed with a note in swedish about something 2 something something,,, so I try to find out about late trains from the ferry terminal on the mainland tonight. SJ has a machine speaking in Swedish, but I can press 6 for english. This explains I can press 1 for times, 2 for delays, 3 for bookings - but does not mention that this information is all in Swedish. Ho hum. Just spend 1 hour on the interweb failing to blog and planning the g�teborg trip for tomorrow instead - the 5pm ferry goes to nynashamn but then nothing leaves there until the next morning. Lucky me has an 0600 start tomorrow. Still, today should be cheap for food. I�m going to see if I can find some local prehistory and maybe a beach.
19:37 not an utter loss today. Bought a few necessaries including a tin of meatballs and some dried pasta. Cycled one hour to a famous church only to find it closed for 2002, then to a bronze age cairn which unfortunately just looks like a pile of rocks. Marching songs on the way home included the top 300 hit God My Arse Is Sore (”…but I wouldn’t change it for the world/cos this world is so damn big/it would break my favourite chair”) and How Can It Be (Uphill Both Ways)
Now showered, fed, and hanging in the botanical gardens mentally preparing for my 0515 alarm tomorrow, and feeling pretty buff after all this cycling.
20:43 strayed into the TV room and have spent more than 20 minutes transfixed by an excerpt from “Garbo - the musical” sung in Swedish. Urh. Time for bed.
Score Tally, Day 5
skijump noses: 752
meatballs: 8, from a tin
history: one church, closed
prehistory: one cairn. Rubbish :-)
km cycling (enjoyed): 19
km cycling (extra): 4
songs composed: 3
7:04 Today I will get wet. Either because of a dip in the sea whilst chilling on the beach, of because this rain continues. I�m on the bus to the north of Gotaland - the scenery is great but I’m a little queasy from the early start and I need to get more sleep.
10:25 got to f�r�sund but didn�t see a bike hire place. A japanese tourist had bruoght her rental bike from Visby (and was merrily coasting down the hill on the left+hand side of the road) so I thought I must have misunderstood the tourist info when he said I could rent a bike in “the town”. So I hopped on the ferry after explaining it was free to the fretting Japanese girl.
Arriving on the island, I noticed a distinct lack of… well, everything except trees and rocks really - and a dirty great asphalted road. So I began my hike to the town marked on my map, shortly to be overtaken by the japanese girl, still on the left. I decide to call her Yuko. A few km later I heard an engine behind me so I stuck out a thumb. “f�r�?” I asked, somewhat naively, to which came a possibly cheerful reply in Swedish which I took to mean “jump in”. Once we had established a more practical language of discourse, it turned out there was no town at the dot on my map, but as it was this was my lucky day. As we passed Yuko (now thankfully on the right) he explained he lived on the farm by the ferry and was on his way to work at the tourist office, which along with a churck, was all there was at the dot on my map. I could rent a cykel and to save a long walk back to the ferry I could drop it ayt his farm. Sorted!
Once one the bike I struck out and took far too many photos, bumping into Yuko from time to time. I am probably glad that I am here out of season as it would only take a dozen tourists to make it feel a little crowded.
A f�r� (”four-air”) is what you get when you take a big chunk of seabed and shove it up into the air to become an island. Spectacular rock formations on the west coast include the miniature canyon where I just stopped for a nectarine and to write this. There are fantastic dwarf trees here that look like mr.miyagi has been working overtime!
11:34 I am 1/4 though my island tour, 1/2 through my food and 3/4 water and 2/3 film gone. More pedalling required to make it to the beaches in good time!
14:37 ah me, a dip in the (pretty warm) Baltic after many trials and tribulations, during which I managed to cover a significant portion of The Hobbit by bicycle. If you don’t mind I’ll just sip my pop while my towel dries and I’ll tell you all about it when I’m less busy…
20:32 and to think I say York is dull: I came within a gnat’s chuff of hitting my original budget today, having got back to the hostel with one meal to get and 62kr to get it with. A quick shower (during which I disturbingly started singing “empires” with the hook line “bring me men”) and retrieve my laundry from where it has apparently been playing british bulldog in the hostel yard, and I’m out again looking for the small supermarket that I missed on the way back from the bus. En route I check out the restaurants I pass in case they are dirt cheap (61kr ~= UKP4.50). They’re not, and the shop is shut, but I remember a street with some bars and kebab shops on.
The kebab shops shut at the same time on a friday as any other night - 1800!! Ruh? So now I am in the Chinese restaurant that I was so proud of myself for not going to last night.
Score Tally, day 4:
Akijump noses: 7
meatballs: 0
History: groovy barn, old harbour
Prehistory: 0
Geology: 87
km cycling (enjoyed): 20ish
km cycling (extra): 11
marching songs composed: 7