lostandforgottenmusings

Musings. #writing

[lostandforgottenmusings]

I've just parked my motorbike nearer the apartment with my new parking permit and set up a drip tray to catch the oil from the leak. I stare at the parking sign. I THINK I'm allowed to park here. I see a woman striding towards me across the road with a dog, she looks, what? Angry? Determined? Maybe angry. I look at my phone and keep an eye on her sideways-like. 'He wants to come and see your bike.' she tells me as she gets close. 'What?' I say but she's already holding the little dog close to the bike. 'Look at the bike!' she instructs the dog. 'You just rode from the England?' she asks, laughing. Ah, she's noticed the registration plate's 'GB'. 'Yes.' I tell her and she stops laughing. 'How was it?' she asks. 'Quite long.' I say. We stare at our feet for a while as the dog finds and licks at an oil spot, 'That's oil, don't let him...' she picks him back up and puts him on the bike seat, facing forward, 'I should take a picture!' she says with some delight, then looks at me, picks up the dog and walks off, '...later.'

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Toast

The morning Finnish newspaper has a three-page spread on English things to make and eat whilst you watch the royal wedding, I'm slowly translating the recipes with Google, purely out of interest. Cucumber sandwiches. 'Ha,' the Finn says, 'that doesn't seem very English.' 'Oh, no, it really is I'm afraid,' I tell her. 'Why have you never made me cucumber sandwiches?' she asks, looking hurt. I haven't got a good answer. Back to the recipe: 8 *translate* slices of *translate* toast. Toast? 'What's paahtoleipä?' I ask. 'Toast.' says the Finn. 'You don't toast the bread for cucumber sandwiches!' I exclaim, suddenly outraged. 'No, it's the same word for toast before it's toasted too.' she says. I stare at her for a while. 'Your word for toast is the same for both before and after it is toasted?' She nods. 'Then,' I ask slowly, 'how do you say if bread is toasted or not?' She thinks for a moment, 'You'd say toasted toast, I suppose.'

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Chaos at the airport, the main security area is closed and everyone is in the overflow, there's heightened anxiety and everyone is shrilly yelling about liquids more than usual. 'Any liquids?! LIP BALM?! DO YOU HAVE LIP BALM?!' 75% of all bags are being stopped for search. After about forty minutes a harassed security man gets to my bag. 'Your bag has been flagged for suspicious content, sir.' He stares at the x-ray screen where there's a circle drawn around a tube. 'May I look in your bag, sir?' I tell him he can. In the manner of a bomb disposal expert he slowly teases the tube out of a pocket as we both hold our breaths. It's a Marabou chocolate bar. We both stare at it for a while. 'It's got Oreo bits in it,' I say, 'special edition.' He says nothing.

[lostandforgottenmusings]

bits of a book

Anastas Bernard looked miserable as he came into the bed chamber and limped to his bed, which was rumpled and had clothes tossed upon it. 'Who's are these?' he asked Peronell, who was lounging on the next bed with his eyes closed. 'Ordulf's' he replied, without looking up. 'Oh no!' wailed Anastas in a pathetic, thin voice, 'Ordulf is here? Really? Since when? For how long?' Peronell opened his eyes and examined the hopping Anastas for a moment, 'What happened to your leg?'

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Midnight at the Museum, party. A man sits down heavily next to me, he's carrying a cake and a goblet of spirit which he sets down on the table. He turns at looks at me, fixes me with a blurry gaze for a few moments and then pushes the glass towards me. 'You taste this!' I stare at the goblet for a while. 'What... is it?' 'Ha ha ha ha ha!' he laughs in my face. I push the goblet back towards him, 'It's okay, thanks, but you can have it.' At this he laughs more, 'This is the best kind of friend, one who does not like alcohol!' and turns away. Later, as we're all leaving, he breaks off talking to a group and yells across the room, 'Hello friend! ... who doesn't like alcohol!'.

[lostandforgottenmusings]

It's a gentle -18°C here in Helsinki today, but my phone tells me that with the wind it 'feels like' -33°C. I'm frankly amazed that I can sit in a t-shirt inside the flat - in the UK I'd be literally frozen to the bed.

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Rescue kitty adoption interview

Crazy cat lady interviewer has fiften rescue cats at home, her facebook profile picture is a cat, and she's wearing a huge cat badge.

Crazy cat lady: So what kind of problems do you think there could be with a cat?

Me: [thinks for a moment] Well, it could scratch things... it could be unhapy... it could get sick... oh, yeah! It could ESCAPE AND GET LOST!

Crazy cat lady: [stares at me and makes notes]

Crazy cat lady: [hisses, looking behind me] That plant there is poiiiisonouss!

I do not remain hopeful

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Close enough

We're trying to do the same thing on two laptops, one in English and one in Finnish: 'What does that menu item say?' 'It says upload.' 'Mine doesn't say that, weird. I've got download.' Silence, then, 'Oh yes, maybe it says download.' 'Maybe?' So, it turns out that in Finnish there's only one word for both 'upload' and 'download': 'lataa'. 'You have to work it out by context.' say the Finn. No wonder Google Translate struggles.

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Say what now?

Waiting for the tram and a guy gets off and looks around confused, walks up and stares at the departures board and frowns. He says something in haltering Finnish, F looks at the departure board and doesn't seem to know. He then says, 'Number ten?' in English. An older woman behind us steps forward and says something in Finnish and points up the street, then she repeats it in English. I chip in, 'I think it goes cross-ways on that street.' He bangs his chest like a Roman legionary and bows his head before walking off. The older woman watches him leave then says (in Finnish, this was translated for me later), 'I don't think he really spoke English.' Then a pause. 'He's probably from Africa.' Another pause, 'So what is the language of the blacks anyway?'

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Things of the Finn's I have broken, #6.

[lostandforgottenmusings]

At your service

There's a knock at the door. I open it and it's the shower repairman, he steps back, puts his feet together and bows to me. Actually bows. As I stand open-mouthed and slightly confused he comes in, takes off his boots and bustles past me towards the bathroom, tugging at his forelock with his head bobbing. In the bathroom he's already got his tools out, 'It's err, the, oh, sorry, I don't speak Finnish,' I say. He bobs his head. 'You know the problem?' 'Yes, yes,' he says, 'new unit.' and points behind me. I turn and there's a twelve-year-old boy there holding a a box. I almost shout 'shit!' I'm so surprised - I hadn't seen him at the door. I leave them to it. I'm just looking up how to say 'Would you like a cup of tea?' in Finnish when they come bustling past again, making a sharp exit. In a linguistic panic I shout, 'Ole hyvä!' which means, 'You're welcome!'

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Any shelter in a storm

I wander past the bar, peering in, then circle back and go inside - it looks cosy and it's snowing, I want to warm up. All the bars in Kallio are so small that half a dozen people fill them. This is bigger, but full. Really full. I manage to find a seat at the end of a big table and order a beer. This is odd, no one is talking, everyone is just sitting in silence. I sip my beer and look anxiously around. After a while a voice comes over the microphone and speaks for a while. Then the voice says a number and a sound clip plays. A pub quiz! This all makes more sense. I suppose this question is to identify the sound. They play it again. Hmm. Pebbles? A rain stick? Coffee beans? They play it a third time, then a fourth. People write things on their papers. When it plays again I finally realise what's really going on: Bingo. The sound is the balls tumbling and the number is changing each time. I'm in a bloody bingo hall.

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Excuse me, sir

I went for a long walk today along the city coastline, somewhat underestimating the minus ten wind chill factor. Thin pair of jeans, no scarf, after an hour I'm numb all over and picking up the pace. A man hastens over to me and touches my shoulder, 'COLD!' he yells at me, somehow guessing that I'm foreign. 'Yes, it is, isn't it?' I say. 'You are very red!' he tells me, pointing at my face, and then turns away and walks off. I stare at his back as he leaves. 'I'm fairly red in the heat too! But thanks for stopping me to point it out!' I want to shout, but he's already too far away. I walk on. I love Helsinki, look, there's even a little beach, true, it's frozen solid, but there's more sand than Brighton. 

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Badges

I board the aircraft. 'Good afternoon sir!' says the shiny air attendant, chirpily. 'Good afternoon!' I reply, in like manner. 'Oh!' he says, 'I LOVE your pin badges!' and begins to finger one of the badges on the breast pocket of my coat. We both look on, silently, as he sensuously moves his finger in small circles on it. 'I find,' I say after a moment, with a small cough, 'that I can't wear more than two at a time for fear of looking foolish.' He thinks about this and stops rubbing my badge and looks up at me. 'I have a hat FULL of them!' he says, quietly.

[lostandforgottenmusings]

A Christmas Tale

After sacrificing a layer of skin to the central heating gods, we go for a seasonal walk. To the local pub. Inside is big on Lynx and people have clearly been drinking for a long time here - the tables are full of empty glasses and men wearing their best shirts yell in each other's red faces. Despite the crush people are carefully polite at the bar in the way you only find in casually violent pubs where queue jumping can be dangery. Two giant Carling pumps dominate the bar and every man in the pub is drinking it wildly, like it's amazing. The women all drink Echo Falls Rosé, a bottle each, honestly, the table next to us has three full bottles of Echo Falls Rosé, three pints of Carling, and six yelling celebrants. Merry Christmas, one and all! We can all learn from a very English '{town redacted} Christmas' (think post-brexit everywhere): if you can be content with Carling and Echo Falls, then you, my son, will never, ever, be disappointed on this earth.

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Radish

Café, listening in to the table next to me as I sip my coffee. 'Strange name to call a place that, isn't it?' says one of the women. 'What's that?' asks her friend. 'Radish.' she gestures at the café across the street, which is called 'The Radish'. There's a pause, then she says it again, slowly. 'Raaadddiiisssh.' she looks thoughtful, 'I wonder if it means something?'

[lostandforgottenmusings]

Sally

Sainsbury's, the vegetable aisle. A woman with very limited mobility in an electric chair is yelling at the cauliflowers. 'That one, Sally, that one!' Sally, an assistance Labrador stares at her for a moment, then turns to the cabbages and carefully pulls at one with her teeth. 'No, Sally! The cauliflower. CAU-LI-FLOWER.' Sally drops the cabbage and stares at the cauliflowers for a while, then at her owner. I move onto the next aisle, wondering how the pet food part of the shopping trip goes for them.