I Ondskapens Kunst

Before I start I suggest you read Richard Pell's blog, it's here. I like it, you might too. OK, plugs over... My feet were bad on Wednesday, they were dry and the skin was all split. I could hardly walk on them at all. I thought I'd better lay in bed all day and rest them, so I didn't go into work. At precisely Eight minutes and eight seconds past eight o'clock, I got a message from Jo which simply said 'You are a cunt.' Talk about no sympathy, I would have loved to have been at work, cleaning off endless stones, using the total station to record them all and marking them with chalk ready to be removed. It would have been brilliant to have been asked by Duncan whether this pile of stones was 335 or 334, or were the pebbles 335 and the stones 332? As it was I was laid up contemplating what to have for breakfast and whether I should have it in bed or not. I can't believe she was so unsympathetic. To add insult to injury, today she found a beautiful piece of wood with a series of Runes carved along it. It is probably one of the nicest things I have ever seen outside of a First World War archaeology setting:

This piece of wood with a runic inscription is the first ever proof of Vikings in Iceland.
Photograph copyright Jo Taylor

I'm going to talk about the Melabúðin now. It's my local supermarket and I probably spend more than enough time than I should in there. I usually call in most evenings on the way home from work to pick up essentials, the little things we all need, like food. I spend more time there than is reasonably expected because of the lay out of the place. It is like a bear pit, a Chinese fire drill if you will.

Melabúðin, Hell on Earth

They have managed to cram as many shelves into the place as possible, leaving it almost impossible to get to what you need. The aisles are about three inches (7cm) wide making the shopping experience like tight rope walking across Niagra Falls.

Another satisfied shopper enjoys the Melabúðin experience

There appears to be another curse in this place. As I walk in the place appears to be empty, no queues at the tills, I feel elated, I can choose my few purchases and be out in seconds. By the time I've picked some bread there is already a mosh pit forming in front of the meat counter. Fighting my way through this, I arrive at the vegetable shelves (there is what seems to be an Icelandic curse on vegetables that means you have to eat them within 24 hrs of purchase or they turn into black lumps of compost in your fridge...).

Quick! Get those vegetables to a fridge, we have no time to waste! Every second is precious!!

After picking up the already rotting veg I move to the milk fridges, fighting past the ubiquitous shelf stacker who manages to spread the products all over the floor rather than on the shelves. Grabbing what I assume is milk, I'm ready to get to the tills to pay and get out. I arrive in dismay to see a queue has formed out of nowhere comprising of at least half the population of Reykjavik. Now we turn to the next problem. Icelanders have no idea of how to make their purchases and clear off out of the shop. They dither about wondering whether to pay with a card or cash whilst the cashier piles up their purchases up on the area for packing. They don't decide to get their wallets/purses out whilst waiting in the queue, oh no, they do it when they should be putting their products in the plastic bags. So here I am waiting for someone to find, then fumble about with and finally put their change/card back in their wallet/purse, then return that to their pocket/bag. Only then do they begin to start to pack the plastic bag, by which time the cashier has started piling MY products onto the area already inhabited by the previous shoppers products. It's like a collision of worlds, the shoppers want to stay as long as possible imbibing the shopping experience, whilst the cashiers want them out as soon as possible, like they are working on some bonus scheme for the amount of shoppers they can serve in a day. As a final insult in my shopping experience at the Melabúðin, if I am not fast enough to get my things into a bag, usually due to the person in front of me still packing their bags, then the cashier starts sending down the next customers items. It's like being under a cascade of produce. There are hands everywhere grabbing at whatever they can. I hardly ever come out with the items I paid for...

Melabúðin in 1912, the ancient shop layout has not altered once. It was based on the Labyrinth of Minos