January 2006

Hats off to Fréttablaðið, who today announced that they will be giving out an annual ‘Community Award’ to individuals that have done something to help improve Icelandic society. The first such will be awarded on 23 February. With this action, the paper intends to help highlight the positive things that most certainly are happening all around us, every day, but that just don’t make the news.

I’ve heard it said that sometimes ideas float around in the collective unconscious until someone taps into them and does something to help turn them into reality. And sometimes several people will tap into an idea at around the same time. This thought occurred to me today when I opened the paper, because just a few days ago we had a discussion along this line at dinner. We had the evening news on in the background and some particularly horrific bit of news came on about some mining accident in Bulgaria, or somewhere. [See? I can’t even remember where…] I remarked to EPI that I wonder what would happen if all the media everywhere in the world were to reach an agreement to broadcast only good news for, say a week. Really. I wonder what would happen.

Because the thing is, that what we focus on has a tendency to grow, and if we focus on horrible things and things that evoke fear, that’s what will grow. Whereas if we were to focus on positive things, good things, presumably that, too, would grow. It’s hard to get your head around the concept of hearing only good things, positive things, even for just a week. But – as John Lennon said – imagine if it were done!

So happily it looks as though someone at Fréttablaðið tapped into this very idea because their editorial today is all about this. It’s quite amazing that while statistically serious crimes are down on a global scale, sensationalist media hype that evokes and perpetuates fear is up up up! According to an organization called Human Security Report, violence on a global scale was down 40% in 2005 from the year before, and mass murder had decreased by 80% from the beginning of the 1980s. Yet the media’s preoccupation with such news had increased drastically.

We here in Iceland are not exempt from this media-perpetuated fear. While police reports and statistics reveal that serious violence and crime is down, some kind of free-floating anxiety and fear seems to permeate our society. For instance, a recent survey showed that 80% of Reykjavík residents are afraid of walking around in the city centre at night. However, the survey also revealed that the further people lived from the centre, the more afraid they were of going there. So in other words, their fears were based on something other than their experience, probably to a large extent the picture presented in the media. And in the words of the Fréttablaðið editor: “This is a highly serious matter, because fear impedes our quality of life.”

So this new community award is designed to be a counterbalance to this doomsday reporting overkill. After all, while a mining accident in Bulgaria, or a plane crash in the Congo, or a person being mauled by a bear in Canada is surely a very sad thing for those involved, I’m not sure it adds anything to the quality of my life to know about it. Whereas hearing about, say, how the new president of Bolivia has decided to slash his wages by 57% and ordered all his ministers to do the same so that he can hire more teachers and doctors, just possibly might.

SO TODAY WE BRING YOU ONLY POSITIVE WEATHER
… Thankfully that’s not hard, because it was a gorgeous day. Like a whiff of spring. A slight breeze, overcast at first, but then the sun came out and was just as white-hot brilliant as it can be on the sunniest of summer days. Went for a fabulous walk around the golf course, so rejuvenating. Came back home and kept working, but mid-afternoon I could stand looking at the sunshine no longer so got my bike out and went out for a spin. When I was almost back home I got caught in a downpour that was like a tropical shower – came in looking like a drowned rat. But no matter. We’re in a happy mood today because the news is good and the weather is even better. Currently 4°C. Sunrise was at 10.14 and sunset at 17.09.

So having had my gripe in the last blog session, I’m delighted to announce that I’m back to being exceedingly grateful for what a great kid AAH is.

Truly. Consider: here in Iceland we have community recreation centres, run by the city in conjunction with education authorities. They are located in every community [more or less] and their main purpose is to provide adolescents with a meeting place, promote healthy activities and a healthy lifestyle, keep them off the streets and to prevent alcohol and drug use. These are staffed by hip young adults [university students or others around the same age] and also have elected student representatives from the school – one for each grade in junior high school, i.e. grades 8, 9 and 10. The students work closely with the staff to shape the programme for the year and also help out at the various functions, selling refreshments, etc.

Last year, AAH was elected one of the student reps and this year she’s doing it again. What’s particularly great about this work, apart from the fact that it puts her in a position of leadership and helps boost self-esteem, etc., is that these kids are treated to all kinds of perks. Last year, just after she started, she shipped out to Akureyri with the other reps to a nationwide meet of all the community centres. There they spent Friday night having a pool party, all day Saturday doing a variety of workshops they’d signed up for in advance, and Saturday night at a massive barbecue and then party replete with live band, etc. And this year they’re going to Finland for a community exchange. The cost is 75% covered by the City of Reykjavík (via the community centre), they’ll do fundraising for the rest, and they’ll be met by their counterparts in Helsinki who will show them around. Next year, the plan is to go to England.

The thing I find most fantastic about the community centre work is that they’re so proactive in promoting a drug- drink- smoke-free lifestyle, without being tragically unhip. In fact, they’re very much used by most teenagers. And from what I can see there is a massive need for that sort of thing. AAH’s friends, one by one, are starting to experiment. In fact, she went to a party on Friday night [while I sat here griping] at which she witnessed two of her best friends get piss drunk and make utter fools of themselves. AAH was appalled. And very upset to see her friends doing that to themselves. We have a pretty open dialogue in this household about the potential destructive effects of intoxicants and AAH is very aware on that front – and thankfully trusts me enough to be frank with me about it. She’s even made a promise – to herself! – that she won’t start drinking until she finishes her O-levels [standardized testing] at the end of the next school year.

I can’t say enough how grateful I am for her level-headedness, common sense, strength, and – yes – courage. And also how kind of amazed I am. She’s certainly a lot more together than I was at her age, which makes my relief and gratitude even more profound. I know how easy it is to go off the rails. And apparently I’m not the only one who’s amazed, because most of the kids in her school are really surprised, too. Why? Because she’s one of the cool kids. Because she’s in with the in crowd, because she’s popular. Yet has the strength of character to be herself.

So while it’s probably normal to get peeved occasionally, there’s a lot to be thankful for. Lest we forget, and all that.

BUT NOT REGARDING THE WEATHER, THOUGH
Because it’s stormy and raining like gangbusters and I’m desperately in need of an endorphin fix and it’s not going to be much fun getting it. It’s set to stay like this all day, with heavy precipitation and winds from the southeast of around 15-20m/s. Could be worse though, I guess. Could be from the north. [Can you tell I’m in grateful mode today?] Temps are 8°C and sunrise 10.17, sunset 17.05.

Addendum: Almost forgot the dirt on poor old Mr Iceland! Personally I haven’t seen anything in the media yet [DV doesn’t publish until tomorrow] but I noticed that Angel got the lowdown and blogged about it. So you can check it out there. [Incidentally, what is it with these ‘Friendster’ blogs? You can’t leave comments unless you’re a member or something. Sheesh! Talk about discrimination…

You know what drives me bananas? The extreme self-centeredness of adolescents. I heard someone say the other day that living with a teenager was like living with an alcoholic – the same degree of self-absorption. Do adolescents eventually grasp the idea that ‘parent’ does not equal ‘servant’? That ‘parent’ can actually be tatamount to ‘person’? After all, who likes to do nice things for someone if those efforts are met with utter thanklessness and a demand for more? Who, I ask you!

They just don’t get that they’re not the absolute epicenter of the universe. They really don’t. Reminds me of that old joke: How many teenagers* does it take to change a lightbulb? – Just one, to hold the lightbulb while the world revolves around him. Or her. As the case may be.

OH.MY. WHAT JUICY GOSSIP WE HAVE HERE
Logged on to mbl.is to catch the temperatures and what do I see? The guy who was crowned Mr Iceland just a few weeks ago [that’s, like, the male version of ‘Miss Iceland’, or ‘Miss World’ in case you don’t know] has had his title removed! This announcement accompanied by some bla-deh-bla about how Mr Iceland is supposed to be a role model for a healthy lifestyle and this particular Mister has not fulfilled those expectations…

Oooh, so I wonder what he’s done? Been a bad boy. Probably gone out and smoked crack or something, or been caught fighting on a Saturday night. It’s a comfort to know, though, that old DV will surely dig up the dirt on it. Now that they can no longer publish sensational stories about one-armed teachers and such, this is probably just the sort of mediocre fare they’re looking for – sensational, but not too soul-crushing. Bet they’ll have it on the cover at the first available opportunity.

… And here I had a whole post already written about my insightful impressions of seeing Memoirs of a Geisha this evening. Ah. Maybe tomorrow. If there’s been no revelation regarding the dirt on Mr Iceland that is, which obviously must take precedence.

AND THE WEATHER PLEASE?
Same as yesterday, only less wind. And as reported on the mbl website, currently 2°C. It’s lovely, actually. Today felt like spring, only with a very early nightfall. Sunrise 10.20 and sunset 16.59.

* OK, in the original version it was ‘how many alcoholics’…

Was a bit knotted in the shoulders today, and as my next massage appointment is more than two weeks away I decided on the next best thing: a trip to the pool for a water massage.

On entering the showers before going into the pool, it occurred to me that while the smell of the water is often off-putting to foreigners [being straight out of the ground it has the slight smell of sulphur], to me it instantly evokes a feeling of well-being. Primarily due to the swimming pool culture that is so prevalent here and that each and every Icelander is indoctrinated into from a very early age. After all, a trip to the pool here is like a trip to the spa.

We are enormously fortunate in Iceland to have a plentiful supply of water, both fresh [mineral water out of our taps] and geothermally heated [piped straight from the volcanic ground at a temperature of around 80°C/176°F]. Not only does the geothermal water provide cheap and clean heating for our homes [it’s pumped into our radiators], it also facilitates the construction of swimming pools filled with clean, silky, deliciously warm water in every single community, no matter how small. Not surprisingly, swimming is the Icelanders’ favourite sport and recreational activity.

Swimming lessons are a compulsory part of the school system from around grade 4, so every Icelander knows how to swim. In fact, it was EPI’s great-grandfather who pioneered swimming instruction in Iceland. At that time [early 1900s], learning to swim was not considered important, and being a nation of fishermen, the sea took its toll in the form of lives. Fishermen were drowning even in close proximity to shore, yet no one felt it important for them to learn to swim since they believed the water was so cold that they would drown anyway if they were submerged. EPI’s great-grandfather opposed this belief and was instrumental in setting up systematic swimming lessons in Iceland. He also built the first-ever pool in Reykjavík, which was on the site where the Laugardalslaug swimming pool [the city’s largest, next to the campground] was later built. There is actually a bronze relief of him at the Laugardalslaug pool.

EPI’s grandfather was an avid swimmer and used to take little EPI down to the seashore with him, where he [the grandfather] would have his daily swim in the bracing waters of the ocean. He later became the first Icelander to swim to the island of Drangey, in north Iceland, since Iceland’s most famous outlaw Grettir [the subject of Grettis Saga], fled there by swimming across 1000 years ago. Grettir was famous for his enormous strength, and his escape to Drangey was at the time considered a superhuman feat. No one attempted to follow him, and over the centuries the swim to Drangey took on the form of myth, with people believing that it was impossible to do unless you had Herculean strength, like Grettir. That is, until EPI’s grandfather came along.

How’s that for a bit of homegrown history!

MEANWHILE OUR HEATWAVE CONTINUES…
And we have balmy temps of 8°C, with overcast skies, some drizzle and a bit of wind. It took forever to get light this morning as the cloud cover was extraordinarily thick; official sunrise was at 10.26 and sunset at 16.55.

Apparently, the most popular type of food consumed during the month of Þorri here in Iceland are the soured ram’s testicles. Who knew? Certainly not YT, who balks at the idea of eating them, and this despite the fact that she does not call everything her grandmother* on the putrid-food front.

Thus I’m sure you will be relieved to know that there are plenty to go around this year, or so claims a front-page report in yesterday’s Fréttablaðið. Evidently there was a bit of a shortage last year, though, prompting a paper in the US to display this headline: ICELAND SUFFERS FROM SHORTAGE OF TESTICLES.

So. How much is enough? Well, apparently the Icelandic nation [all 300,000 of it] consumes some 200,000 testes - around 20 tons - over the month and there’s enough to cover that. Just. Happily there will not be a surplus, either. According to Fréttablaðið.

SO WHAT HAVE WE ON THE WEATHER FRONT TODAY?
While the rest of Europe freezes its collective testes off, we the Nicelanders are experiencing a heatwave. Well, maybe not a heatwave. But comparatively speaking. Highs of 6-9°C today, currently 7°C. Almost all the snow, which we had in such great magnitude just a few days ago, has disappeared. Which makes YT exceedingly happy because running conditions are prime. Yowsa. The sun came up at 10.29 and will set at 16.52.

* An Icelandic expression, ‘Að kalla ekki allt ömmu sína’, meaning that the person in question is a tough cookie: ‘She doesn’t call everything her grandmother, ohno!’

There are not many things I miss about living in North America, but one of the things I miss a lot is the high standard of service in shops and restaurants. That service-oriented mentality just does not exist in the same way in Europe, particularly not in restaurants where the wait staff does not receive immediate rewards for good service in the form of tips. Here in Iceland the standard of service in most restaurants and cafés is atrocious, as clearly documented in this space in the past.

Sadly, the service in most shops is not much better. Indeed, you could on occasion be forgiven for thinking that you were situated somewhere in the East Bloc prior to the Velvet Revolution. Particularly if you shop at a particularly inane supermarket known as Krónan, located in my neighbourhood, just behind the JL complex [Nóatún] down by the sea in the west end of Reykjavík. Believe me, if you ever visit the city and are in this neighbourhood, do yourself a favour and do not shop there. You’ll thank me later.

Krónan is owned by the same people who own Nóatún, which is probably the most expensive supermarket in Iceland and which also has the lowest standard when it comes to freshness of fruits and vegetables and correlation between the price marked on the shelf and the price that comes up at the cash. Krónan is staffed by people who look around 12 years of age but are probably around 14. And they know nothing. Probably because they are so underpaid that they rarely stick around long enough to learn.

Now, I hardly ever even attempt to shop there because every time I do I get super-agitated by their extreme incompetence. The other day I went to buy a box of Cheerios and some cotton make-up pads – nothing exclusive. Both were out of stock. When I apprehended a girl who was working there on the floor and asked whether they had cotton make-up pads, she walked with me to the shelf [as they do], stared at it blankly, and finally said, ‘No, we’re out.’ Oh. Duh.

Obviously I could save myself a lot of agitation if I just boycotted the place altogether; however, my undoing every time is that it happens to be so conveniently located near my place and I think to myself, ‘Ah, just this once for a carton of milk, or a box of Cheerios, or some cotton make-up pads’. Or, as was the case yesterday, for some cheese [mild Gouda, the most common type of cheese there is in Iceland], bananas, dates, raisins, and a bit of smoked salmon.

So off I go to Krónan. Just inside the entrance was a mountain of bananas, all way past ripe. Except one bunch that I dove onto like a hawk. It was semi-ripe, and only one of the bananas on it was ruined by a large black gash. I tore off two and stuck in my basket. So far, so good.

Next, into the cooler for the cheese. [Have I mentioned that here in Iceland you actually walk into a room where all the refrigerated stuff is kept?] Out of stock. I was aghast. I mean, mild Gouda is only the most ubiquitous type of cheese in this freaking country, perpetually available in every damn gas station convenience store throughout the land, and in Krónan it is out of stock. Fine. All right. Suddenly I remember the smoked salmon, and resolve to buy some bagels and plain cream cheese to go with it. Plain cream cheese: out of stock.

On to the smoked salmon shelf. There was a bunch of very expensive smoked salmon, and then there was one packet of the kind that I like, because it’s reasonably priced and every bit as good as the costly stuff. Hah – success! Yes, until I picked it up and happened to glance at the expiry date on the label. Expired: January 7. More than two weeks ago. And still sitting on the cooler shelf, waiting for some hapless consumer who doesn’t look at expiry dates. Lovely.

Disappointed, I headed out of the cooler [taking the salmon with me to deposit with the cashier – my Good Samaritan deed for the day], only to recall that I needed some yoghurt – the organic stuff that comes in three different flavours [strawberrymüslimango], as well as plain. A side step to the yoghurt shelf reveals that there is one small container left, one, out of all the possible flavours. One lonely container of müsli yoghurt, that promptly went into the YT basket. Price on shelf duly noted: ISK 70.

Out of the cooler and into the store proper. To the freezer, to search for some frozen bagels. Out of stock. To the baking section, to pick up dates and raisins. Dates: out of stock. Raisins: out of stock. Can you believe it? I couldn’t – so I grabbed the only person in there who looked to be above the age of 14 and asked him if they had any raisins. He rushed to the shelf and gave it a cursory look. ‘No, we’re out.’

Stewing, and firm in my resolve to never, ever shop there again [Hah! Shop for what?], I go to the cash. Keeping an eye on the price as my purchases are rung through [having learned from bitter experience to always do this when shopping at Krónan or Nóatún] I note that the single lonely yoghurt container is rung up as ISK 78, as opposed to the ISK 70 that was marked on the shelf. It’s not a lot. ISK 8 is not a lot. But there was not a hope in hell I was going to let them get away with it.

YT: The price on the shelf was 70 kronur.
LITTLE14YEAROLDGIRL: [Glancing at cash display] No, it’s 78.
YT: [icy] It said 70 kronur on the shelf.
L14YOG: […]
YT: … It’s marked very clearly.
L14YOG: [Leaves cash and walks to the other end of store to cooler and sees that YT is right.][Returns to cash] I don’t know how to fix it.

Grr.

Eventually someone who appeared to have a wee bit of authority makes it to the cash, inserts a key, and fixes the problem. Poor little 14-year-old girl is a wreck [to my credit I did say to her that I knew it wasn’t her fault] and eventually YT’s principles are satisfied and she leaves the store with the 8 kronur in pocket and the firm resolve to never, ever shop in that stupid store, ever again. Ever.

SO DO WE HAVE STORMY, GLOOMY, IRATE WEATHER?
Well, no, thankfully. It’s a bit windy, and it’s overcast. Temps are 4°C and over in the east there’s a break in the clouds with a bit of blue shining through. The snow is melting and huge puddles everywhere. Time to get out the Wellies. Or the Nokias, as is more common here in Iceland [did you know this? that Nokia started out as the manufacturer of rubber boots?]. Sunrise 10.31 and sunset 16.49. And a very hearty congratulations to all who have managed to read this far. If this were a lottery you would win a prize! Too bad it’s not!

Lest you think that feeding your man putrid shark on Bóndadagur is just another capricious whim dreamed up by weird Icelanders, think again! In fact, there is a perfectly logical reason: that day marks the start of the traditional midwinter festival known as Þorrablót, where people get together and imbibe rotten food and drink lots of heinous Black Death.

AND NOW FOR A BRIEF HISTORY LESSON.
Before Iceland adopted Christianity in 1000 AD it was a pagan society that worshipped the Norse gods. A ‘blót’ was a celebration held in honour of the gods and ‘Þorrablót’ was held in the month of ‘Þorri’, which began in the 13^th week of winter. Originally it was a sacrificial feast dedicated to the god Þór – Thor to you foreign lot.

As many of you will know, Iceland had the first democratic parliamentary assembly in the world, which started in 930 AD and was held at Þingvellir. In the year 1000 there was a crisis when a brewing feud between pagans and the increasing number of Christians in the country threatened to erupt. The two sides each had their own law speaker and refused to acknowledge the legislation set by the other. Under the threat of imminent chaos, a decision was made to ask the pagan law speaker Þorgeir Ljósvetningagoði – who was widely regarded as a wise and honourable man – to make a decision on behalf of the fledgling nation, as to which direction should be taken.

Þorgeir went off and lagðist undir feld – literally ‘laid down beneath a skin’ [i.e. the skin of an animal] – in order to meditate on his decision. [This expression is still very much a part of the Icelandic language – when anyone needs to make a major decision, it is said that they need to ‘leggjast undir feld’.] He stayed there for ‘a night and a day’, and then returned to declare that he felt it was most wise for Icelanders to adopt Christianity, although the pagans could still hold their celebratory feasts, as long as they did so discreetly, i.e. in secret. This decision marked a major turning point for the Icelandic nation and from that point on, Christianity was adopted, without fighting or bloodshed.

SO WHAT’S THE DEAL TODAY?
The Þorrablót feasts went underground for a few centuries, but began to be practiced openly about 200 years ago [I think]. It wasn’t until this century, however, that they became as widespread as they are today. In the past, during the festival, people would eat the foods that had been preserved at the beginning of the winter. It goes without saying that the food-preservation techniques of the day were rather rudimentary, hence the often-disgusting menus offered at the Þorrablóts to this day: cured [read: putrefied] shark, blood pudding and liver pudding [bound into and cooked in the stomachs of the sheep], pickled ram’s testicles, pickled whale blubber, etc.

Today the Þorrablót are held all over the country around this time. Very often they are organized by communities, particularly in rural areas, and they’re usually major drinkfests. In fact, a cursory Google search on the term turned up this page, which I though was pretty hilarious. Highlights:

“Two farms came on snow-scooters and changed clothes on the toilet, as there is much snow now. The food is prepared in a 3 feet long wooden trough. Each farm brings their trough to the house where we meet in advance, in the afternoon. That is easiest, as the food is cold anyway.”

AND…

“I as usual am a sucker for the shark and the lambs-heads. Everyone in the house has bad breath after dinner, the shark has a rather strong odour. Many young people are in the house, alcohol is not sold in the house, even though you can take it with you, and 16 year old kids come to the Thorrablot here as the first dance with the grown-ups.

The house is filled with relatives and the kids have to behave and not drink too much, so it is a good celebration for them to “learn the rules”.”

I’ll say no more.

EXCEPT… A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE WEATHER
We’re not in the throes of the same sort of frost as the rest of Europe, thankfully. It’s a balmy –1°C right now, a veritable heatwave compared to the sub-zero temps they’re having in, say, Russia. Very Serious, from what I understand. In any case, a lot of our snow melted this weekend, but there’s still plenty left, what with the hefty supplies we were presented with last week, plus the slight sprinkling we’ve had this morning. Sunrise was at 10.34 and sunset due for 16.46 – amazing, a full hour more of daylight than just a month ago!

It’s Feed Your Man Putrid Shark Day again. [Amazing how these things sneak up on you. It’s only been a year since the last one.]

Undoubtedly you will be shocked to learn that we’ve decided to bypass the putrid shark, pickled whale blubber and Black Death this time around, and are going straight for the lamb filets and red wine.

And as it does every year on this day, the Icelandic nation has selected the Sexiest Man in Iceland through a poll conducted by Rás 2 on Icelandic State Radio. Supposedly it’s Garðar Thór Cortes this year, but obviously the voting was rigged. Everybody knows it’s really EPI.

Anyway, I’d love to stay and give you the weather, but must dash. Laters!

My bank’s been running this very persuasive ad campaign featuring an extremely happy-looking man and woman who exhort the virtues of investing in shares. In conjunction with this, the bank craftily offers a free course on learning to play the stock market through your online bank. YT allowed herself to be reeled in without any resistance whatsoever, particularly as the Icelandic stock market has been a-hopping since the beginning of the year and YT – who has a modest sum invested in some fund[s] noticed to her amazement that she’d actually made a wee bit of dosh without even lifting a little finger. Or any of the other fingers, either. [Because making money in YT’s case usually involves lifting and dropping fingers on a computer keyboard.]

On entering the hall where the course was held, the first thing I noticed [after the refreshments table] was that the course facilitators looked remarkably familiar. I… couldn’t… quite… place… them, though. Only about halfway into the course, when the one facilitator put this page up on the projector screen, did I realize that the course facilitators… were… actually… the same people featured in the ad campaign. Whoa! How’s that for fucking with your grey matter!? The same people. Don’t they know they’re supposed to use models for ad campaigns? And – not use models for courses on how to play the stock market online? … ?

Anyway.

Happy to report that the two models-slash-workshop facilitators were actually quite good at feeding information into the YT brain. Which must be considered a feat in itself, because to be quite frank YT’s interest in the stock market and all things related to it is approximately a few percentage points above zilch. I mean, I like making money as much as the next person, but until now the mere mention of stocks and shares and dividends and ‘smart investing’… has given me the creeps [although that feeling may well be related to a stint I once did as a temp at a stockbroking firm]. Even reading some of those weird Blogshares blurbs gives me the heebie-jeebies [… our analysts have been keeping a close watch on The Iceland Weather Report… after a sharp rise in performance… etc. etc.]. Who are those people? And why are saying all those things about my blog!?

Yet I am now resolved to start my day every morning by dutifully reading the e-zine that Íslandsbanki sends me, telling me all about indexes and market fluctuations and price-earnings ratios. I shall wring and twist my brain cells until they understand the true meaning of ‘performance’. And last but not least, I shall entreat my friends in America to SEND ME TIPS! because my newfound online-banking opportunities even extend to the US Stock Exchange. Yow.Sa.

AND I SHALL STOP THINKING ABOUT THE WEATHER
Because it’s turned freezing again. It was so beautiful earlier, temps just above zero, the sun just a little higher in the sky than yesterday, brilliant and happy, giving the brief illusion that spring was just around the corner. Now we have 0° Celsius, and the snow that had started to melt has turned hard and icy and in fact pretty lethal to those of us who occasionally like to go outside wearing smart boots with high heels. And I can feel my brain about to have a malfunction so I shall sign off now and bid you all a goodnight. Good Night. Sunrise 10.45, sunset 16.33.