After nine hours travel from Fannit allatesa rolled up in front of the Quality Hotel at Ulsteinvik in the hired jamjar. It was just before 5 of the afternoon clock on a Saturday and time to grab some room picnic groceries before the shops shut.
But no, no no. The shops were shut, all of them. Bugger. Even the Spar and the 24/7 local, shut. Holiday weekend it seems, again. Deserted streets, trafficless roads, and this in the capital of the offshore shipping company and specialist ship building world. Bizarre. No pubs open, no restaurants open. Freaking hell.
Norway is a beautiful and wealthy country, but it is total kak at being in Europe in the 21st century. After eating in the hotel as no other choice available and having to pay over fifty of the English Queen’s pounds for lamb shank and mash and a pint of lager allatsea, is very, very, very glad that he don’t have to live here. Thanet seems like a paradise on earth after this place.
Norwegian worries aside it’s not been a bad visit. The ship wot he looked was ok and the people on it, very helpful and pleasant; Norwegian to a man, apart from the ladies.
Back to Blighty tomorrow at sparrow’s fart, it’ll be a long’un. Quicker to get the Korea than to Margate but so be it. It’s all beer tokens in the safe after all, so no complaints. Rellies over from Oz staying with us so want to be able to spend a bit of time with them while they’re here (there).
Crikey, it just dawned on the tired grey matter, that the World Cup footie starts soon, …………………….hmm, time to ship off and out of it all for the next month or so. A ghastly business is footy at International level if you an Englander, constant and predictable disappointment and 2nd division entertainment. If only a sense of reality would kick in every now and again, it wouldn’t be so bad. The only exception being the wonderful, wonderful, film about it, “Mike Basset, England Manager”. A gorgeous observational critique of our ‘national game’ and psyche.