(no subject)
Arrived at Stansted just before 3 pm on departure day, took advantage of their very handy weighing machine to check my suitcase was under Ryanair's 15 kg limit - hallelujah, it was 13.2 - and wandered through to the departure lounge for an excellent burger, fries and lime soda at Frankie & Benny's.
Was lined up behind a British rock band, who were hoping to crack Sweden, at the departure gate. After ten minutes or so driving round and round, we finally got airborne, and landed at Stockholm Skavsta five minutes ahead of schedule - prompting a fanfare and a recording of a Scottish voice informing us we'd just been on board another on-time Ryanair flight.
The Hotel Connect is visible across the road as soon as you come out of the airport's exit doors. The 'Quick Sleep' rooms were what the promo material said - basic accommodation for the budget traveller. Just a bunk bed (thankfully I didn't have to share a room), a table, a folding metal chair, and a litter bin. That was it. The promo leaflet had indicated there'd be a telly, but perhaps the comma was misplaced and the telly, like internet access, was extra. I spent the evening in the hotel's agreeable bar watching European U21 football on the big screen.
Next morning it was one 80-minute bus ride to Stockholm bus station, lunch there, then another 80-minute bus journey to Grisslehamn to catch the ferry to Eckerö. After taking a pic of Grisslehamn from the sun deck as we sailed away, necessitating my listening for a few minutes to a retired Swedish gentleman telling me about his love of the Swedish archipelago and of going for trips in his boat, I sought out the bar where the live music, if there was any, would happen and sat down with a Pepsi.
About halfway through the two hour journey a male/female singing duo appeared on the stage and regaled us with a lively performance of some party hits for 45 minutes; then it was about time to haul my baggage to the disembarkation deck and wait till we reached port.
There was a taxi waiting at Eckerö harbour; the lady driver couldn't make head nor tail of my attempt to ask if her cab was available in Swedish, but she spoke English and so we were soon en route to my guest house. After we'd established that I was in town for the Island Games, she pointed out the Eckerö Halle as we passed it and said it was to be a Games venue. That struck me as a stroke of luck as it was only a short walk from the guest house; it was only on the Saturday that I bought an official programme and found out that only the basketball would be held there, and that the football ground was a long way away.
The guest house was pleasant enough, with a huge garden with tables to just sit at and relax. It was fully self-catering, so far from unwinding when I'd unpacked I had to walk the mile and a half back to the ferry port, where the nearest food shop was, to ensure I'd have breakfast next morning. There wasn't a lot in Eckerö, though just over the road from me was the Eckerö Hotel, 'home of Åland's Elvis' (sadly he wasn't giving a show during my stay) where I took a couple of meals in their excellent restaurant, and there was a gift shop nearby where I bought my postcards from a very friendly lady. There was also the Jussis ceramics museum, where on the Friday morning I got my first sighting of Island Games people : three of the Bermudan team.
Fortunately, I was but a short walk from the bus stop where buses ran to Mariehamn, so I got to see plenty of Island Games action after all. The only fly in the ointment was that the last bus back to Eckerö left Mariehamn at 10 pm; while this was comfortably after all the athletics was over, it did mean I had to forgo the pleasure of the nightly live music in Games Street (the market square decked out with marquee bars and various stalls, plus exactly the same stage used at the Rockoff festival when I visited two years ago). I did get to see the superb live show by my old pal Torbjörn Engman on the Sunday night, as months ago he'd agreed by email to give me a lift back to Eckerö after his show ended. He was supported by a band comprised of three of his friends, and advised me to look out for the forthcoming album by their singer/guitarist Johann - "he's amazing".
Stocking up on provisions in Mariehamn's big supermarket on the Thursday before the Games started, I found manna from heaven - Kopparbergs in six different flavours. The strawberry and, especially, the cloudberry were particularly awesome. I mentioned them on my postcard to my cousin Steve and added "I never want to come back."
Naturally I cheered my neighbours the Isle of Wight. On the Sunday morning I took a taxi to the tennis venue way to the north of the city to cheer on their ladies' tennis team; precious little good I did them as they were whitewashed by Guernsey. Their number one player, Netta, still appreciated my support, as that night, at Torbjörn's show, she jumped out at me and, clearly delighted to see me, exclaimed "Hello! How are you?" Happiness is having a beautiful young lady jump out at you at a rock concert on a gorgeous night in Mariehamn.
When the tennis girls' games were over, having been out in blazing sun all day I felt absolutely baked (though not burnt - I made sure I used sunscreen all week) so fancied a nice indoor sport, and trekked across town to the volleyball court where I met up with a nice girl called Deirdre, who was in the Jersey women's team. Having heard of my taking sweltering walks all over Mariehamn that day in between venues, Deirdre advised me that I should have no problem sneaking onto the shuttle buses as they never checked people for passes there. Before long I'd met the rest of the Jersey volleyball girls and stayed to cheer them on before successfully sneaking onto the shuttle bus to the stadium for the evening's athletics.
I went along to several more of the Jersey girls' games, though, alas, they lost them all until their very last, the 11th place play-off against Guernsey, which they won - although I wasn't at that one as I had another group of ladies to cheer that night. More of them in a moment...
Meanwhile the Isle of Wight athletics team got off to a roaring start, with favourite Andy Frost easily winning his expected gold on the Monday night, just missing the Games record. I saw Andy around several times over the week, palling up with people from anywhere and everywhere - the guy is quite a character. The Ynys Mon team even let him sign their Welsh flag despite his being English. Also that night, Helen Davis won the ladies' javelin for the Isle of Wight, and Faith Norster and Emily Young added bronzes in the ladies' 400 m and long jump respectively. Later in the week I saw Matt Burton lose the long jump bronze on the last round, pipped by two centimetres, but make up for it two days later with a magnificent gold in the triple. Amy Church won silver in the ladies' hammer, and both 4 x 100 relay teams took bronze. The Wade brothers, distance runners, scooped five medals including a gold between them and Paul Cameron topped off a fine team showing with a bronze in the half marathon.
Because only five teams contested the ladies' 4 x 400 relay, the Western Isles, despite coming third, weren't given bronze medals, which I thought was a bit rough. I got talking to some of the Ynys Mon athletes, who proceeded to make me an honorary fan and give me an Ynys Mon badge with the Welsh dragon to pin on my HWFC baseball cap - it's still proudly on there. I gave all their runners big cheers after that.
On the Monday I took the bus out to Hammarvallen to see the Isle of Wight men's footie team play Saaremaa, whom they beat easily. At that game I was profoundly grateful to meet Pete, an English groundhopper and Island Games regular who was there with his wife Marian and hyperactive young son Sean. Pete told me of the existence of yellow wristbands, on sale for 25 euro, which allowed you to ride on all the shuttle buses. Having been paying to travel on the public buses, and getting around on foot when the public ones didn't run, the purchase of one of those babies made my week a lot easier. It was at that game that I met the Isle of Wight women's team - though Sophie, whom I know from when she played for Hawks, wasn't with them - wished them luck and promised to come and see them at Solvallen, my local venue, on the Thursday.
Another top bloke I met was David, a Watford FC fanatic and Island Games addict who supported Shetland because his mother was Scottish. On a visit to a women's football match he fell in love with the Saaremaa team - absolute babes, he assured me - especially Anna Pold. He steadfastly supported them, even as they crashed to defeat after defeat, earning their undying love, high-fives whenever they spotted him, and the gift of a badge. He asked two of them whether Anna had a boyfriend; they said no, but sadly for David Anna had to return to Estonia early for family reasons, leaving him vowing to learn enough Estonian to woo her in her own language at the 2011 Games on the Isle of Wight... Another character was Julian, a London cab driver and Leyton Orient fan who hitch-hiked to the far-flung football venues. He gave me his business card, which proudly proclaimed 'Supporter of the Island Games', and said that if ever I was in London and wanting a taxi I was to call him for a half price ride.
By the time Thursday night came round, the Isle of Wight girls' game against the Norwegian island of Hitra had taken on a significance few had expected. If Isle of Wight won, they would go through to the semi-finals. When Sophie emerged from the dressing room to see me grinning and saying "Evening" Jon Tickle-style, she exclaimed "What the hell are you doing here?" The general mood was optimistic as Hitra had been getting wellied every game, and the Isle of Wight lasses rose to the challenge and won 3-0.
I hadn't planned on venturing to the further-flung outposts of the island, but after several Isle of Wight team officials had thanked me for my support that evening and even talked about mentioning me in their newsletter I just had to trek down to Lemland in the south-east of the island for the semi-final next night. No-one gave us a prayer in the semi, against Åland - the hosts were all semi-pro players and boasted seven of the full Finland women's team - but the Isle of Wight actually took the lead in the first five minutes. We were leading 1-0 and suddenly anything seemed possible. Åland equalised in the 28th minute but that didn't dampen the spirits of me and the Isle of Wight contingent at pitchside - we carried on singing regardless. The teams went in at half-time even Stephen. Alas, reality bit in the second half and Åland ran out 7-1 winners.
On the bus back to Mariehamn the Isle of Wight players raucously sang "We came, we lost, we couldn't give a toss, Isle of Wight, Isle of Wight." I was sat next to Clare, the team's press officer. On hearing that I wasn't a true Vectensian but from over the water in Gosport, she asked what had brought me to the Games. I explained that Åland was one of my favourite holiday spots, so, being a sports fan, when I'd heard they'd be hosting the Games I just had to be there. As we chatted about the food and drink on offer she confessed to being a kebab fan, so I recommended the kebab house by Mariehamn bus station where I'd been taking many a meal. Clare sighed "See, you know the place. If we'd only found you earlier you could have been our official tour guide."
Meanwhile, on the Friday morning, after nine days of blazing sunshine, the rain had come. I was standing in the middle of Mariehamn in just a T-shirt, waiting for the athletics to begin, when it started. I dashed straight for the athletics stadium to take cover in the roofed stand. Then when the competition was over I took a shuttle bus straight to Games Street to buy an Island Games rain jacket.
On the Saturday I topped off my Island Games adventure with a trip out to the furthest-flung outpost of the football, Sund, to see the Isle of Wight ladies play the Isle of Man for the bronze medal. Julian was there; seeing my rain jacket he said "Oh God, you didn't pay sixty-seven euro for that thing?" looking at me like I was a lunatic. Well, yes actually, because I don't enjoy standing in the rain in just my T-shirt. The Isle of Man had their men's team all supporting them, standing on the framework of wooden rows meant for sitting on, bouncing up and down till we thought they'd collapse their benches. When the Manx went one up their men all played leapfrog along the touchline. Isle of Wight lost 2-1; at first the girls were dejected at missing out on a medal but by the closing ceremony that evening their disappointment had abated into being satisfied with reaching the semis for the first time ever.
Vanessa, a lovely lady from Isle of Wight Council who'd presented medals for some of the athletics events, gave me, Clare and Georgia (who played on both the badminton and the football teams) a lift back to Mariehamn. After taking advantage of my last chance to visit Metro Records to buy a couple of new CDs by local artists, I was left to mosey round town for three hours till the closing ceremony, so visited Dino's Bar & Grill and partook of their excellent lamb.
The closing ceremony was a pleasant, short affair, albeit under rain, on the grass in front of the town hall. I stood near the Isle of Wight lady footballers, one of whom, Kelly, came over to shake my hand and thank me for my support - though when she asked my name she got confused, as I have a unisex first name and share it with one of her team-mates... Of course I promised to be there when the Games are held on the Isle of Wight in two years' time.
Sunday it rained again, which added to the sense of anti-climax as I packed my stuff and, via flinging the magazines I'd finished reading in the litter bin at Jussis Ceramics' café to ensure my suitcase, with my various purchases of the week, stayed under 15 kg (I had to cram my small hand-baggage bag until it actually ripped to achieve that goal), took the bus up to the harbour to board the boat to Grisslehamn. The singing duo helped my spirits with another party medley including, joy, two Eurovision winners - the guy singing Diggiloo Diggiley, immediately followed by the girl with Tusen och en natt, the Swedish version of Take Me To Your Heaven.
Another night in the bar of the Skavsta Connect Hotel drinking Kopparberg and watching an American cop drama on the big screen, surrounded by teenage German, Norwegian and Finnish cheerleaders, in town for an international competition.
Yesterday I regretted that I hadn't booked an early afternoon flight instead of the 5 pm one. There isn't a lot to do in Skavsta airport although I did at least have a good book to make it bearable - with the help of a couple of Pepsis. By the time I got off the coach at the Hard just before 10 pm I was glad to be home.
Vodafone Are Doughnuts, Part 95 : among the mail waiting for me was my mobile bill, and yet again I've been charged for all my text messages when under my price plan I'm supposed to have 50 free ones each month.
First day back at work today. I spent most of it looking back over my answers' comparisons with the right results for the last ten or so batches, to refresh my memory of it all. Around 10 am Sue spotted I was looking a bit lagged; since she's been asked to get us all to do our e-learning modules about security awareness ASAP, she suggested I have a change of scenery and come over to Elaine's desk (Elaine's on holiday, but her PC, unlike mine, is rigged up for the learning modules) and do a couple of those.
Bumped into Carol #3 in the canteen at lunch time. She asked if I was liking my new job OK; I said it was going fine. "Don't you find it a bit depressing, dealing with deaths all the time?" she asked. I replied that after the telephone unit it was a walk in the park. I rang Vodafone customer services, where a girl with a foreign accent, after going away and leaving me holding on for what seemed an eon, came back and said she'd refund me the cost of my first 50 texts last month and that the error had now at last been rectified. Here's hoping.
Booked my ticket online for 4.48 Psychosis at the Young Vic. When I saw on the website that it's a one-woman performance by a French actress, and that it ran in Paris before coming over here, I immediately realised that this must be the girl whom the lady I met in February was coaching. So this production is going to be very interesting. Hope to meet her again.
Was lined up behind a British rock band, who were hoping to crack Sweden, at the departure gate. After ten minutes or so driving round and round, we finally got airborne, and landed at Stockholm Skavsta five minutes ahead of schedule - prompting a fanfare and a recording of a Scottish voice informing us we'd just been on board another on-time Ryanair flight.
The Hotel Connect is visible across the road as soon as you come out of the airport's exit doors. The 'Quick Sleep' rooms were what the promo material said - basic accommodation for the budget traveller. Just a bunk bed (thankfully I didn't have to share a room), a table, a folding metal chair, and a litter bin. That was it. The promo leaflet had indicated there'd be a telly, but perhaps the comma was misplaced and the telly, like internet access, was extra. I spent the evening in the hotel's agreeable bar watching European U21 football on the big screen.
Next morning it was one 80-minute bus ride to Stockholm bus station, lunch there, then another 80-minute bus journey to Grisslehamn to catch the ferry to Eckerö. After taking a pic of Grisslehamn from the sun deck as we sailed away, necessitating my listening for a few minutes to a retired Swedish gentleman telling me about his love of the Swedish archipelago and of going for trips in his boat, I sought out the bar where the live music, if there was any, would happen and sat down with a Pepsi.
About halfway through the two hour journey a male/female singing duo appeared on the stage and regaled us with a lively performance of some party hits for 45 minutes; then it was about time to haul my baggage to the disembarkation deck and wait till we reached port.
There was a taxi waiting at Eckerö harbour; the lady driver couldn't make head nor tail of my attempt to ask if her cab was available in Swedish, but she spoke English and so we were soon en route to my guest house. After we'd established that I was in town for the Island Games, she pointed out the Eckerö Halle as we passed it and said it was to be a Games venue. That struck me as a stroke of luck as it was only a short walk from the guest house; it was only on the Saturday that I bought an official programme and found out that only the basketball would be held there, and that the football ground was a long way away.
The guest house was pleasant enough, with a huge garden with tables to just sit at and relax. It was fully self-catering, so far from unwinding when I'd unpacked I had to walk the mile and a half back to the ferry port, where the nearest food shop was, to ensure I'd have breakfast next morning. There wasn't a lot in Eckerö, though just over the road from me was the Eckerö Hotel, 'home of Åland's Elvis' (sadly he wasn't giving a show during my stay) where I took a couple of meals in their excellent restaurant, and there was a gift shop nearby where I bought my postcards from a very friendly lady. There was also the Jussis ceramics museum, where on the Friday morning I got my first sighting of Island Games people : three of the Bermudan team.
Fortunately, I was but a short walk from the bus stop where buses ran to Mariehamn, so I got to see plenty of Island Games action after all. The only fly in the ointment was that the last bus back to Eckerö left Mariehamn at 10 pm; while this was comfortably after all the athletics was over, it did mean I had to forgo the pleasure of the nightly live music in Games Street (the market square decked out with marquee bars and various stalls, plus exactly the same stage used at the Rockoff festival when I visited two years ago). I did get to see the superb live show by my old pal Torbjörn Engman on the Sunday night, as months ago he'd agreed by email to give me a lift back to Eckerö after his show ended. He was supported by a band comprised of three of his friends, and advised me to look out for the forthcoming album by their singer/guitarist Johann - "he's amazing".
Stocking up on provisions in Mariehamn's big supermarket on the Thursday before the Games started, I found manna from heaven - Kopparbergs in six different flavours. The strawberry and, especially, the cloudberry were particularly awesome. I mentioned them on my postcard to my cousin Steve and added "I never want to come back."
Naturally I cheered my neighbours the Isle of Wight. On the Sunday morning I took a taxi to the tennis venue way to the north of the city to cheer on their ladies' tennis team; precious little good I did them as they were whitewashed by Guernsey. Their number one player, Netta, still appreciated my support, as that night, at Torbjörn's show, she jumped out at me and, clearly delighted to see me, exclaimed "Hello! How are you?" Happiness is having a beautiful young lady jump out at you at a rock concert on a gorgeous night in Mariehamn.
When the tennis girls' games were over, having been out in blazing sun all day I felt absolutely baked (though not burnt - I made sure I used sunscreen all week) so fancied a nice indoor sport, and trekked across town to the volleyball court where I met up with a nice girl called Deirdre, who was in the Jersey women's team. Having heard of my taking sweltering walks all over Mariehamn that day in between venues, Deirdre advised me that I should have no problem sneaking onto the shuttle buses as they never checked people for passes there. Before long I'd met the rest of the Jersey volleyball girls and stayed to cheer them on before successfully sneaking onto the shuttle bus to the stadium for the evening's athletics.
I went along to several more of the Jersey girls' games, though, alas, they lost them all until their very last, the 11th place play-off against Guernsey, which they won - although I wasn't at that one as I had another group of ladies to cheer that night. More of them in a moment...
Meanwhile the Isle of Wight athletics team got off to a roaring start, with favourite Andy Frost easily winning his expected gold on the Monday night, just missing the Games record. I saw Andy around several times over the week, palling up with people from anywhere and everywhere - the guy is quite a character. The Ynys Mon team even let him sign their Welsh flag despite his being English. Also that night, Helen Davis won the ladies' javelin for the Isle of Wight, and Faith Norster and Emily Young added bronzes in the ladies' 400 m and long jump respectively. Later in the week I saw Matt Burton lose the long jump bronze on the last round, pipped by two centimetres, but make up for it two days later with a magnificent gold in the triple. Amy Church won silver in the ladies' hammer, and both 4 x 100 relay teams took bronze. The Wade brothers, distance runners, scooped five medals including a gold between them and Paul Cameron topped off a fine team showing with a bronze in the half marathon.
Because only five teams contested the ladies' 4 x 400 relay, the Western Isles, despite coming third, weren't given bronze medals, which I thought was a bit rough. I got talking to some of the Ynys Mon athletes, who proceeded to make me an honorary fan and give me an Ynys Mon badge with the Welsh dragon to pin on my HWFC baseball cap - it's still proudly on there. I gave all their runners big cheers after that.
On the Monday I took the bus out to Hammarvallen to see the Isle of Wight men's footie team play Saaremaa, whom they beat easily. At that game I was profoundly grateful to meet Pete, an English groundhopper and Island Games regular who was there with his wife Marian and hyperactive young son Sean. Pete told me of the existence of yellow wristbands, on sale for 25 euro, which allowed you to ride on all the shuttle buses. Having been paying to travel on the public buses, and getting around on foot when the public ones didn't run, the purchase of one of those babies made my week a lot easier. It was at that game that I met the Isle of Wight women's team - though Sophie, whom I know from when she played for Hawks, wasn't with them - wished them luck and promised to come and see them at Solvallen, my local venue, on the Thursday.
Another top bloke I met was David, a Watford FC fanatic and Island Games addict who supported Shetland because his mother was Scottish. On a visit to a women's football match he fell in love with the Saaremaa team - absolute babes, he assured me - especially Anna Pold. He steadfastly supported them, even as they crashed to defeat after defeat, earning their undying love, high-fives whenever they spotted him, and the gift of a badge. He asked two of them whether Anna had a boyfriend; they said no, but sadly for David Anna had to return to Estonia early for family reasons, leaving him vowing to learn enough Estonian to woo her in her own language at the 2011 Games on the Isle of Wight... Another character was Julian, a London cab driver and Leyton Orient fan who hitch-hiked to the far-flung football venues. He gave me his business card, which proudly proclaimed 'Supporter of the Island Games', and said that if ever I was in London and wanting a taxi I was to call him for a half price ride.
By the time Thursday night came round, the Isle of Wight girls' game against the Norwegian island of Hitra had taken on a significance few had expected. If Isle of Wight won, they would go through to the semi-finals. When Sophie emerged from the dressing room to see me grinning and saying "Evening" Jon Tickle-style, she exclaimed "What the hell are you doing here?" The general mood was optimistic as Hitra had been getting wellied every game, and the Isle of Wight lasses rose to the challenge and won 3-0.
I hadn't planned on venturing to the further-flung outposts of the island, but after several Isle of Wight team officials had thanked me for my support that evening and even talked about mentioning me in their newsletter I just had to trek down to Lemland in the south-east of the island for the semi-final next night. No-one gave us a prayer in the semi, against Åland - the hosts were all semi-pro players and boasted seven of the full Finland women's team - but the Isle of Wight actually took the lead in the first five minutes. We were leading 1-0 and suddenly anything seemed possible. Åland equalised in the 28th minute but that didn't dampen the spirits of me and the Isle of Wight contingent at pitchside - we carried on singing regardless. The teams went in at half-time even Stephen. Alas, reality bit in the second half and Åland ran out 7-1 winners.
On the bus back to Mariehamn the Isle of Wight players raucously sang "We came, we lost, we couldn't give a toss, Isle of Wight, Isle of Wight." I was sat next to Clare, the team's press officer. On hearing that I wasn't a true Vectensian but from over the water in Gosport, she asked what had brought me to the Games. I explained that Åland was one of my favourite holiday spots, so, being a sports fan, when I'd heard they'd be hosting the Games I just had to be there. As we chatted about the food and drink on offer she confessed to being a kebab fan, so I recommended the kebab house by Mariehamn bus station where I'd been taking many a meal. Clare sighed "See, you know the place. If we'd only found you earlier you could have been our official tour guide."
Meanwhile, on the Friday morning, after nine days of blazing sunshine, the rain had come. I was standing in the middle of Mariehamn in just a T-shirt, waiting for the athletics to begin, when it started. I dashed straight for the athletics stadium to take cover in the roofed stand. Then when the competition was over I took a shuttle bus straight to Games Street to buy an Island Games rain jacket.
On the Saturday I topped off my Island Games adventure with a trip out to the furthest-flung outpost of the football, Sund, to see the Isle of Wight ladies play the Isle of Man for the bronze medal. Julian was there; seeing my rain jacket he said "Oh God, you didn't pay sixty-seven euro for that thing?" looking at me like I was a lunatic. Well, yes actually, because I don't enjoy standing in the rain in just my T-shirt. The Isle of Man had their men's team all supporting them, standing on the framework of wooden rows meant for sitting on, bouncing up and down till we thought they'd collapse their benches. When the Manx went one up their men all played leapfrog along the touchline. Isle of Wight lost 2-1; at first the girls were dejected at missing out on a medal but by the closing ceremony that evening their disappointment had abated into being satisfied with reaching the semis for the first time ever.
Vanessa, a lovely lady from Isle of Wight Council who'd presented medals for some of the athletics events, gave me, Clare and Georgia (who played on both the badminton and the football teams) a lift back to Mariehamn. After taking advantage of my last chance to visit Metro Records to buy a couple of new CDs by local artists, I was left to mosey round town for three hours till the closing ceremony, so visited Dino's Bar & Grill and partook of their excellent lamb.
The closing ceremony was a pleasant, short affair, albeit under rain, on the grass in front of the town hall. I stood near the Isle of Wight lady footballers, one of whom, Kelly, came over to shake my hand and thank me for my support - though when she asked my name she got confused, as I have a unisex first name and share it with one of her team-mates... Of course I promised to be there when the Games are held on the Isle of Wight in two years' time.
Sunday it rained again, which added to the sense of anti-climax as I packed my stuff and, via flinging the magazines I'd finished reading in the litter bin at Jussis Ceramics' café to ensure my suitcase, with my various purchases of the week, stayed under 15 kg (I had to cram my small hand-baggage bag until it actually ripped to achieve that goal), took the bus up to the harbour to board the boat to Grisslehamn. The singing duo helped my spirits with another party medley including, joy, two Eurovision winners - the guy singing Diggiloo Diggiley, immediately followed by the girl with Tusen och en natt, the Swedish version of Take Me To Your Heaven.
Another night in the bar of the Skavsta Connect Hotel drinking Kopparberg and watching an American cop drama on the big screen, surrounded by teenage German, Norwegian and Finnish cheerleaders, in town for an international competition.
Yesterday I regretted that I hadn't booked an early afternoon flight instead of the 5 pm one. There isn't a lot to do in Skavsta airport although I did at least have a good book to make it bearable - with the help of a couple of Pepsis. By the time I got off the coach at the Hard just before 10 pm I was glad to be home.
Vodafone Are Doughnuts, Part 95 : among the mail waiting for me was my mobile bill, and yet again I've been charged for all my text messages when under my price plan I'm supposed to have 50 free ones each month.
First day back at work today. I spent most of it looking back over my answers' comparisons with the right results for the last ten or so batches, to refresh my memory of it all. Around 10 am Sue spotted I was looking a bit lagged; since she's been asked to get us all to do our e-learning modules about security awareness ASAP, she suggested I have a change of scenery and come over to Elaine's desk (Elaine's on holiday, but her PC, unlike mine, is rigged up for the learning modules) and do a couple of those.
Bumped into Carol #3 in the canteen at lunch time. She asked if I was liking my new job OK; I said it was going fine. "Don't you find it a bit depressing, dealing with deaths all the time?" she asked. I replied that after the telephone unit it was a walk in the park. I rang Vodafone customer services, where a girl with a foreign accent, after going away and leaving me holding on for what seemed an eon, came back and said she'd refund me the cost of my first 50 texts last month and that the error had now at last been rectified. Here's hoping.
Booked my ticket online for 4.48 Psychosis at the Young Vic. When I saw on the website that it's a one-woman performance by a French actress, and that it ran in Paris before coming over here, I immediately realised that this must be the girl whom the lady I met in February was coaching. So this production is going to be very interesting. Hope to meet her again.