There is one thing I hate, and I really mean it, and that is having to change my tyres on the car twice a year! I don't know why it drives me up the wall but it does. Growing up in the countryside as I did, a year never went by without some farmers son getting squished to death under his car because the car jack failed! This scares me a bit, especially as you have to do all four wheels on this flimsy jack. Anyway to increase my life expectancy I decide to buy a proper car jack, from Biltema. As you know everything in Norway is expensive, but stop! Shock horror! Car jacks, the proper one's with red paint and a pump, and stuff cost 199 nok! 20 squids! I mean which poor sod in the world went without so I could have a red car jack for 199 nok!
Anyway its been done, the summer tyres are back on and its only 7 months to do until I have to put back on the winter tyres. Joy... Anyway this old guy comes out from the flat near me and starts talking to me, it happens nearly every time I change my wheels, but my Norwegian is so crap, and he speaks no English so we have this sort of strange conversation. He really tries to get this point across about something, but fails. This has happened many times, but today while he was twittering on, I suddenly realised my Norwegian has improving… I understood him, and it basically what he is trying to say is very simple: You not allowed to work on your car in this area, please stop! Anyway today I understood and so we had a laugh about it and while I fixed the car we chatted about this and that, and it kind of made sense. Kind of.
And so due to this I have been forced to go sport climbing, several times, mainly at Hellenset and Hellen festning. Both these crags offer a variety if desperate slab moves with awkward smears between. I quite like it, in a sick twisted sort of way. Today was no exception apart from it was really cold so I had to smear my way up some thin slab with fingerless gloves...
The other day in the supermarket Siri pointed to a tin, and said what do you do with that... I looked... it was a tin of beans in tomato source... I tried explaining this great British tradition of Baked beans on toast, even throwing in an analogy of "Skinheads on a raft" but I could see all this was lost.
Recently I tried the Potato Mash advert on a Greek friend, but that also failed… First we find them, then we peel them, then we boil them, and then we mash them, ha ha ha ha ha….
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