Bwyd Time

On Monday it was ten years since I graduated from York University with a BA in Archaeology. It feels like literally two minutes have passed since then. I can't believe it was just ten years ago that Graham and I could be found on a Tuesday night, rolling around on the filthy floor of Ziggy's nightclub demonstrating to the world our own brand of Breakdancing. I can hardly believe that almost ten years ago I was getting ready to go to Ireland, in order to get three months digging experience but ending up staying for nearly four years. It is crazy to think that I was heading out into the world that seems very different to me now. Since then, what have I done and where have a I been? I must have dug literally thousands of holes filled with shit from the olden days. Through archaeology in the past decade I have worked in the following countries: Ireland, France, Belgium, Germany, Iceland, Japan, Singapore and Tanzania. I've driven across America, from shining coast to shining coast in the company of archaeologists. I have done a mini tour of Iceland dressed as a Ninja accompanied by an archaeologist. I have appeared in television programs on the BBC, Channel Five and the Discovery Channel. I have had the honour of locating and being involved in the identification of the missing from the Great War. I have been involved in creating archaeological sites on the Somme that are used as educational locations. I have even created and taught a University course on Great War archaeology. Yes, if the last ten years is anything to go on, archaeology has been pretty good to me. I think that decision to move out of the flat after the police raid and go to university was probably a good one. I would still be ingesting vast amounts of military grade amphetamines and LSD if I hadn't.

What you could have won...

On Tuesday I went for my CSCS test. The CSCS is a card that has been introduced for all site workers as a cover all for Health and Safety. It also serves as a license to print money for the companies that run the tests as they charge what they like and it has to be paid for by the companies. I have sat through several such tests and talks both here and in Ireland. I am now an expert on the correct ampage of electrical tools and the correct angle that scaffolding should be set at. The thing is, as this test is aimed at labourers it is as simple as they come. If they made the test too hard none of the monkeys that inhabit building sites would pass and the building trade in the UK would fall through its own arse. They even sell you a fucking book that has all the answers in it. Typical questions would be:

You find a bottle of unmarked clear chemicals, do you
a) put it somewhere safe and tell your supervisor 
b) sniff it
c) drink the bottle, passing it around the cabin at lunch time
d) all of the above

You notice the electric-hammer is damaged, do you:
a) unplug it and check for further damage
b) tell your supervisor
c) tape up the damage and tell your supervisor
d) continue using it to stove in the head of the daytime hooker who just asked you for her money

So it was on Tuesday that I found myself in the testing van clicking the mouse for all I was worth answering such questions. I was finished in under ten minutes, even doing the practise test. I was confident of my own abilities when it comes to health and safety. I'm no monkey.

'This is a computer' 

'Woah! Slow down with the science Poindexter!'

I failed.

Letter from Jo

I have taken the unprecedented step of allowing someone else control of this weblog. I asked Jo to write a piece on her time in Iceland, in the event she's just written about me; which says more about her than me, I think. I would like to say that all the views and opinions expressed in the following are Jo's and Jo's alone. So with no further wittering from me here we go...

The other day I mentioned to Alex “Oooh, I should do a guest Blog for you” to which he jumped wholeheartedly upon the idea and has since forth been harassing me on a daily basis. So here it is, my “Ode to Alex: September 2008 - May 2009”… hold on to your seats, this is a whirlwind of excitement…

My first memory of Alex is when, having managed to locate myself within the vast metropolis in which I had been deposited, I arrived at the Alphingi site on a cold Wednesday afternoon at the end of September 2008. What I remember is that pretty much the first thing he said to me was “Do you want to come swimming tonight? Roz and Duncan are coming too. Do you want to come? It will be FUN”. Anyway, once the initial pervations were out the way and the eternal mantra “still not drunk enough” had been firmly established Alex and I set about forming a pretty firm, sturdy, salt of the earth, wub woo-ing friendship of which only snoring and the threat of the “mask which stirs latent memories” could undermine.

Drunk…

In many ways this friendship probably owed lots to the fact that we were both in our 30’s and were also both single. This is NOT the done thing in Iceland but our social stigma was unfortunately revealed to everyone one day in October when Hrappi asked us “What would you do if… you reached 30 and were single”. Our answers consequently necessitated that we spend October in the “Clinic for Unusual Non-attached Thirtysomething Saddo‘s (CUNTS)” for a period of quarantine and analysis. During this time we bonded over games of ping pong, Rolo’s and the ‘History of Metal According to Alex: Parts 1 - 89’. When we left the clinic we found the entire world economy had collapsed as a consequence of Iceland, which was no doubt a ‘Butterfly Effect’ bought on by the shock waves reverberating from Hrappi exposure of our aged unattached status. High in my Icelandic regrets (alongside the distinct absence of Viking rapage) was the fact that our freakdom didn’t make it into the gossip magazine next to the “swampinfecktion” (thrush) advert.

Swampinfection is probably not something that effects single 30 somethings much

Following our release from CUNTS great days followed. During this time we were living in the Jesus flat outside of central Reykjavik. I loved Jesus and made my very own shrine outside my bedroom to the lovely man. But Alex, blasphemous child that he is, came home one day and inverted poor old Je-Je. Despite the negative karma this inevitably created we still managed to have a lot of… FUN! There was the short lived cinema night, the even shorter lived (at least on my part) swimming pool night and perhaps the night with greatest longevity… Pizza Wednesday. Oh how we loved Pizza Wednesday. We’d always fight about “warming” food as opposed to “cooking” it, followed by a discussion of why Alex had bought shit cardboard pepperoni again. But after this culinary foreplay we would settle down to an smattering of Ramsey‘s Kitchen Nightmares, a sprinkling of Americas Next Top Model followed by a smorgasbord of How to Look Good Naked. Every Wednesday. Without fail. Living the dream. Crazy days Alex, crazy days.

Jesus Loveliness

In January I abandoned Alex and fled home to the UK to overdose on… now prepare yourself… human diversity (not only were there many different colours of skin, but also many different nose types) consumer choices (I never noticed that there are so many different types of deodorant in the UK) and buying alcohol from a shop after 6pm (Woo-bloody-hoo!). He missed me more then I missed him and I have it on good authority that he could be found curled up in a ball, rocking and hugging my muddy work body warmer on daily occasion. Then, after all that we had been through, when I returned to Iceland I discovered I had been momentarily replaced by a teenage infatuation and I‘m not going to lie… It hurt. However, the pain was quickly glossed over by the plotting's of the evil king and queen of Althingi who deemed Roz, Duncan, Alex and I could no longer live together and we were forced to live in separate abodes. Fuckers. On the bright side, whilst conducting the move Alex and I did get the opportunity to walk down the style conscious streets of Reykjavik dressed in jogging bottoms, hoodies and slippers, clutching a sleeping bag, food and Alex’s war games… which was nice. In addition, Roz and I also got a lesson in “How to be a Stepford Wife” to which I paid not one second of attention except to register that it actually happened. I didn’t like the Evil Queen of Alphingi.

Alex and Jo’s Reykjavik Stylee

Anyway, we moved house, me with the Brits, Alex with the Greek (he doesn’t speak much about what went on during that time but, judging by the glint in the Greeks eyes, I have a good idea) and the fast paced life of Reykjavik continued unabated.

Prior to the move I was largely teetotal but whether it was a consequence of our separation or not things changed rapidly during the months of February, March, April and Early May. During this time Alex and I embarked on a shared love of Spiced Rum and Icelandic Vodka to get us through the weekly monotony and not even the undoubted excitement of Suduko ‘Live’, Suduku ‘Teenage fan club’ and Suduko ‘Unplugged’ could distract us from our growing addiction. High amongst the inexplicable consequences was Alex waking up to find he had the number of a rather attractive “cowbell ninja” (AKA Magnus) on his mobile. He denied all knowledge of how it got there, but I’m not so sure. I could be wrong but Cowboy Ninja, Greek activities and his undoubted affinity with Café Babalu are strongly suggestive that “GAY” was at play.

Suduku… halcyon days

At some point during our drink fuelled springtime, FUN day happened. Perhaps we should have been forewarned by the excitement caused by mine and Hrappi’s impromptu SPA day (it is not the done thing to book a day off work just because you feel like it in Iceland. The Germans were also in full agreement) but needless to say we weren’t prepared for how outlandish our feelings would appear and incredulous conversations/arguments with the committee ensued. However, whatever the ’spikiness’ of the run up, FUN day proved to be an unmitigated success and love within the Alphingi forces flowed quicker then the evil nectar of Topas (bleurghh).

The joy of FUN day

Back to site, the hysterical misery continued and Alex and I, despite our runic discoveries (who will find them now?), hatched our ‘Icelandic Archaeological Suicide Pact’. With a notice period of six weeks the vodka and rum consumption stepped up a level and whilst I don’t remember much of it I do know it was FUN. To be fair, at least four of those six weeks were Alex’s ‘leaving do’ which goes some way to explaining the alcohol poisoning.

Too much alcohol to be sure

So we come to the end of the story, thus far. Alex you were a shining light, a ray of sunshine, a cowboy dressed in red, a regurgitated mouthful of… BANG… right in the face. So, see you later crocadilla. Wuuuuuuuuuuuuuuub woooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Love Jo, xxx

“Why do birds suddenly appear…”

p.s The absence of anyone else in this text is not a reflection on them but more a testimony to the megalomania that is Alex Sotheran

p.p.s Alex will never be my god

Naglfar / Ragnarok

This weekend Sudoku prepared themselves for what may be our final gig in Reykjavik. After a quick practise on Friday night, at my place, we all called over to Stephan's on Saturday afternoon. He and his missus fed us lovely food and we got down to practicing only being interrupted by Stephan's daughter and her friend fighting and crying. We had a gig on Saturday night, supporting several well known Icelandic bands, Thingtak, Skorpilifur, Agent Fresco, Vicky, Bad Carburetor and What About, at the new big club Sodoma.I'd seen all of these bands before at some point. The music scene is not as big as you first imagine it to be here. We didn't go on until about three in the morning, we were the last on the line up and the place had pretty much emptied again. Mind you, the crowd was much bigger than what we normally expect and I saw at least one person dancing during the set, one other guy stood and stared in disbelief as well. We hammered our way through Ninja Porks a Babe, Ninja is for Life, Do You Wanna Get Pumped? and Das Ninja, before the club owner turned the power off on us. He threw us off stage and shut down the sound. The sound engineer was overheard saying he wanted nothing to do with it, the club owner said it wasn't fit for humans! It was brilliant! I have achieved a major goal, annoying as many people as possible with my music. My music is so bad it's offensive! One minor criticism from my point of view was that I thought we really should have practiced more. I mean, if we had we would have all been playing the same chords at the same time to the same beat, which is not really what happened during the performance.

How some viewed Saturday night's Sudoku performance

I handed my notice in today, I finish at the end of April, for a job in York after a tour round the Westfjords. The last bit of Iceland I haven't seen yet. The only downside to working in York is having to live with the abusive and alcoholic John Clay. He will also be working with me, so I expect I will be kicked up and down the site on a daily basis and then further thrashings when I get home. I know he will also make me fill in all his context sheets and do all his work for him with broken fingers. He will be too drunk by eight o'clock in the morning anyway.

John Clay, when his alcohol abuse finally catches up with him

Gjallar

This weekend consisted of drinking heavily, which is what most weekends consist of in Reykjavik. It may sound cool and exotic to live in Reykjavik, but there ain't that much else to do. I headed over to Jo, Duncan and Roz's place after a disastrous attempt to get on the Internet at Tomas Fraendi. We were going to order pizza from the best Pizza Place in town (There is a lot of these here: the Best Pizza Place, the Best Ice Cream Bar, the Best Hotdog Stand, the Best Half-a-Sheep's Head Shop, the Best Buried-in-it's-own-piss-for-six-months Rotten Shark Stand). Bjarki and Hrappi had recommended it to us. They were having a ten year anniversary sale (The Pizza place, not Bjarki and Hrappi), with prices as they were ten years ago. We were told that there would be a two hour wait due to demand and the belt tightening economic crisis that meant everyone in Reykjavik was clamouring for ten year old prices. I later learnt that Bjarki and Hrappi waited for three hours for cold pizza and rock hard garlic bread that felt like it had been made ten years ago. I'd hate to know what the worst Pizza place in town was like... We deliberated for two minutes about the waiting time and called Dominoes Pizza. We had warm soft pizza within twenty minutes.

The Best Pizza in Town, om nom nom...

After feasting ourselves stupid we all headed down to Sodoma, the new bar that was opening that night. A live venue that Reykjavik desperately needs. Sudoku are also going to play there as well in couple of weeks, so I wanted to check the place out. To be perfectly honest I don't actually remember much about the evening, except seeing a Natalie Portman look alike and bitterly regretting not having talked to her and getting some guys number who was chatting Jo up. Why I ended up with his number and why I ended up putting it in as 'Cow Bell Ninja' on my phone is beyond my recollection. I think it may have had something to do with the bottle of rum we polished off before leaving the house, maybe the free beer at Sodoma, or maybe the bottle of nail polish remover that Jo dropped in the house before we left.

I should have talked to her...

I crashed on the futon in their front room and made my way slowly back to my own place the next day. I was out again on Saturday, it was the annual university dinner/dance and as most of the people from site were going I decided to head along myself. It was a good laugh in the end, the meal was good and plentiful, the dancing lively and the students chatty. There was an overall 'Hollywood' theme, I had been telling everyone that I was going to go as Marylin Monroe. In the event I couldn't find a dress that matched my eyes, so I just dusted off Becky's Wedding shirt. Not the shirt Becky wore at her wedding, but the shirt I wore at Becky's wedding, if you know what I mean?

Here is a link to the Google video of the full second show by Sudoku:

Sudoku Live!!

Finally, Jo was working on a song about archaeology, here it is, sung to the tune of Que Sera Sera:

When I was just a teenager
I asked myself what shall I be
Shall I be pretty
Shall I be clean
Here’s what I chose to be…

Archaeology…
How fucking insane of me
Its so very shit to be…
Archaeology

Later on I found out just
What the profession could offer me
Pretty much nothing
Nadda and nil
A life of lethargy

Archaeology…
my mediocrity
An eternal travesty…
Archaeology

After ten years of miserable hell
I finally realised what was the fee
Of all the minutes
Hours and days
Spent down on bended knee

Archaeology…
Will be the death of me
For it’s the psychology…
Archaeology

Skirnir

There is an Asian girl who works in the local supermarket, and it has thrown open a whole can of worms to do with communication. When I buy my produce and ask for a plastic bag I do it in English and she replies in English. Now, I am trying to integrate myself as much as possible into Icelandic culture, but far from being able to speak Icelandic I at least manage to say Hello and Thank You to shop assistants. It's not much but it's better than assuming everyone else speaks English (Which they do, by the way, but one must never assume). Turning back to this girl do I say Thank You in English, Icelandic or Chinese? Now again I'm only assuming she's Chinese, for all I know she could be Korean or Japanese although the Japanese are not generally known for being economic migrates. I would hate her to be Korean because I don't know what Thank You is in Korean. I learnt how to say Thank You in Chinese whilst in Singapore, but I don't want to come across as a patronising bastard who is assuming she's Chinese when she could, in fact, be Korean or Japanese. I know Thank You in Japanese, again learnt whilst in the country, but this really is hedging my bets with her background. I really could end up with egg on my face over that one. I also am not keen on saying Thank You in Icelandic, this is again an assumption, but I'm fairly sure she wasn't born in Iceland. She has an accent that isn't Icelandic, before you start calling me a racist. What do I do? This is a political nightmare!

China, Yesterday

Holy Shit, what a week. We have an impending 'enforced fun day' coming up. You know what I mean, everybody gets together to do some team building activities for the day then retires for a meal and gets drunk and it ends up with everybody telling everybody else what they actually think of them. I was OK with this idea if it was only happening on one day. Yesterday Bjarki unleashed a shit storm by telling us that they (The Fun Day Committee) had decided that we would all be going to a Summer House and staying over the weekend. I immediately refused. One day is fine, but an overnight stay means I have lost a weekend. We then got into a very bad tempered argument where I had to end defending my personal reasons for not wanting to spend a weekend with the people I have just spent the preceding and following five days (a total of twelve days straight) working with in an 8m by 15m tent (We measured it today). I like everyone on site with the exception of one person, (having said that I can tolerate them as long as we don't spend too much time in each others company) but the idea of spending my weekend in the middle of nowhere with the same people is my idea of Hell. I have been working in this career for the better part of ten years. Between ten and about six years ago I would have been the first to be up for this kind of activity. Now I am tired of the this hobo lifestyle that I lead, I am not happy with my particular situation but I have to put up with it. This is like an away job where I am not allowed to go home at weekends. Everyone else on site (With the exception of the foreign workers) can go back to their homes and other friends each and every night. I go home to someone else's house where my only possessions are what I can carry in a suitcase. My friends are ones I work with everyday and as good and nice as all these people are it is bliss when the weekend rolls around and I am allowed my own personal space. I am continually surrounded by and reminded of work so to slightly escape it for even two days is heaven. Maybe I'm a grumpy old man, I don't care, I know what I like and I don't like being forced to have 'fun' in the middle of nowhere with no escape routes. It turned out in the end that the committee had decided no such thing but had simply put the idea of a summer house on the table. Bjarki and I made our peace, so it was OK in the end.

Where I would prefer to be rather than at Fun Day

Thingtak played on Thursday night, they were playing with about four other bands of which the best was a group of fifteen year old lads, who played old bluesy rock covers but finished by playing the Dwarves 'I Wanna Be Your Pimp'. I ran into Ragnar from Skorpulifur who Sudoku supported the other week. He had a copy of the Icelandic glossy Celebrity gossip magazine 'Séđ Og Heyrt' (I have no idea what this means, any Icelandics reading, please let me know). There had been a photographer from the magazine at the gig and they had run an article on Skorpulifur in which Hannes, the singer, mentioned Sudoku. It went along the lines of; we played a few times with Sudoku a Ninja Metal band from Britain who wear Ninja outfits on stage.. Brilliant, thanks lads.

Skorpulifur Yesterday (Photo copyright Jo Taylor 2009)

One final thing before I finish and this gets too long. We moved offices this week, we are now underneath the Green Party's headquarters in a basement. We have to use their toilets, upstairs from our HQ, but because they are clean and we are not we have to practically strip out of our site gear and get hosed down in the yard. Not only that but you have to sneak past reception and through their coffee room looking for the toilet. What was once a three minute trip to the toilet has turned into an Odyssey for a piss. It's like Jason and the Argonaut's quest, except it's not a Golden Fleece waiting at the end but a Golden Stream.

Roman Land

I was sitting in the computer room on Monday during Lunch Break shooting the shit with Atli and Bjarki, when Hrafnkell came in and asked me if Sudoku wanted to play again this week. Stefan's arm is still fucked from his operation so Thingtak can't play the gig with Skorpulifur that they were going to play this Thursday. Ragnar from Skorpulifur asked if we could play instead, so I said, yes, why not? Two gigs in one week... Madness.

The weekend passed with no great shakes, I was going to go on a road trip with Duncan and Roz. Jo didn't want to go as she had been running around like a blue arsed fly in London for the last month and wanted a quiet weekend. We borrowed Vala's car on Friday and I was all set to go the morning after the Sudoku gig. Then Jo reminded me that it was Valentine's weekend and maybe D and R didn't want a gooseberry tagging along. I'd completely forgotten about it and, well why should I remember something like that? As it happens Duncan and Roz didn't mind having someone along (Duncan had also forgotten anyway...) but I still felt weird about it. I didn't go in the end and basically sat on my arse all weekend, trying not to spend any money.

I was working inside today and Albina (Fish Bone Expert) asked if she could use the computer to download some files. As we were chatting she let it slip that she was rushing because she had a car full of dead pigs and they were stinking the place up. She offered me a slice of the meat, they had only been dead a couple of days she said. I declined this tempting proposition.

Sudoku Photos and Videos

The world's premier Ninja Metal band play live in Reykjavik in front a of a packed house!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Here are the photos:

Here

Havamal

Sudoku played live on Friday night for the first time ever! Ninja metal was unleashed upon an unsuspecting Icelandic Public in the Dillon Sports Bar at Hafnarfjörður. Hrafnkell told me about the opening as Steppi from Thingtak was still fucked from hi shoulder operation and they couldn't play, so Sudoku stepped up to the challenge. Quickly recruiting the bassist Sayonara Hiroshi and the button presser/dancer Saru Shokushu Goukan, we had a few rehearsals. Well when I say we had a few rehearsals, I mean on Thursday evening after work I showed Hrappi how to play the songs, then we went to his house and amped up, and did a few run throughs of the set list. He kept me awake til the early morning putting Linux on the computer and showing me family photo albums...

On Friday evening we (Jo, Hrappi and I) went down to Hokus Pokus to pick up three Ninja Costumes. Jo had mentioned the day before that I aught to maybe think about buying them then. Friday night was definitely a case 'told you so'. The store had sold out completely, there must have been a fucking rush on Ninja parties in Reykjavik, we asked the toothless simpleton behind the counter if he knew of anywhere else that would sell Ninja Costumes. He said he had no idea and only knew what went on in his shop. What kind of attitude is that? I would have thought that if you worked in a shop with such a narrow sales line (i.e. Fancy Dress Costumes) you would have done your research and found out what competition you had in the surrounding area. Especially in a place as small as Reykjavik. All you have to do is open the fucking telephone directory and they are all there. Needless to say, we didn't have a telephone directory and the twat behind the counter probably couldn't even use a telephone anyway. It's not something I generally have about my person, a telephone directory.

I digress, it threw us into a bit of a panic. Jo suggested getting some material and making our own costumes so we bombed over to a haberdashery and I bought several meters of black material at a fucking astronomical cost. Who would have thought the economic crisis would strike at the heart of haberdashers as well as the layman. Or maybe they put their prices up in order to milk as much out of other peoples misery as possible. Fucking haberdashers. They are worse than Paedophiles.

Duncan, Roz, Jo and I called over to Hrappi's place, much to the consternation of Iris and we managed to squeeze another rehearsal and get dressed ready for the big event. The costumes looke much better than the shitty ones I was going to buy at Hokus Pokus, so for one thing I was happy that the toothless idiot behind the counter wouldn't be able to feed his children tonight with my money.

We hit Dillon Sports Bar and walked in dressed as Ninjas. There was no one there to see us. The bar was heaving with about six people in it. Most of them formed the other three bands that played. We were told that we would be on after Skorpulifur, who were meant to be headlining, but had decided since we were from 'England' we should go on as headliners instead. My first live experience and I would be headlining... Anyway Skorpulifur were excellent, even if their singer was smashed out of his head and fell over several times during their set. Rock and Roll. Then it was our turn. By this point the other supporting bands and their attendees left thinning the crowd down to my friends and Skorpulifur.

We played 'Ninja Porks a Babe' as the intro and launched in 'Ninja is for Life', well when I say launched, we hobbled into it as Duncan had set up the track but had failed to press play. I hit the play button and we completely fucked it up. Hrappi had forgot to turn his bass amp on, so there was just me thrashing on the guitar. It went from bad to worse. I pressed play on what I thought was the drum track for 'Do You Wanna Get Pumped' and began hammering away at it. It turns out that it was the drum track to 'Ninja is for Life'. It didn't seem to affect the song though...

It was only during 'A Furious Aural Beating at the Hands of a Ninja' that we started to pick up our mojo and we played this one excellently if I say so myself. Duncan again ruined it all with the segue between 'Ninja Plays and Awesome Fucking Solo' and 'Ninja!', but Hrappi's and my professionalism managed to keep it on track. I fucked up during 'Seppuku' but managed to pull it back together for 'Ninja Hammer' during which the bar was bing closed and chairs put on tables. We finished the show with the Sudoku version of 2unlimited's 'No Limits' playing whilst we all danced like we were being electrocuted. It may have been a fuck up but Sorkpulifur still wanted us to play with them again, maybe to make them look better I don't know. I can now tick the 'played live with a band' box. I spent the rest of the night driving around in Hrappi's car in a vain attempt to go drinking.

In other news I beat Atli at Memoir 44 twice on Wednesday, this also includes another beating last Wednesday at Axis and Allies. But being a gentleman who doesn't like to gloat, I only have this to say:

In your face, in your face, in your face, in your stupid fucking face, Atli you retard!!!

Goliath and the Vampires

This has been a turbulent week, Roz and Duncan showed up on Saturday but because I was at a party I couldn't meet them in town, so on Sunday I met them and we all went to the Longhouse Museum which is located just over the road from our site. It´s an excellent place full of touchy-feely exhibits. I wanted to go as we may be able to catch some of the outhouses from this structure on our site. I wanted to see how turf walls look in situ. The museum has the fully excavated longhouse totally preserved, so the walls were there in all their glory. We wandered around town for an hour or so, then I headed back to my apartment and food. After which I met up with them both again and we all went swimming in my local pool. Apparently the sauna is the place to pick up gay men in Iceland, so needless to say I stayed away... I spend most of my time int he swimming pool in the hot pots, there´s four of them and the range in temperature from 32 degrees to 44 degrees. I can only take the 44 degree one for a short while before my heart starts beating too fast.

On Tuesday a massive storm hit us, it mainly went through the night. It was so strong that the Iceland rescue team (A sort of Paramilitary armed force that Iceland has instead of an army.) had to be called out to help secure the poles, with the use of the mini digger.

Hrafnkell and I had been taking about playing Sudoku live, here in Reykjavik, in support of his band Thingtakk, so we were supposed to go and practice on Thursday night. It was also a chance for me to go and check out his band. The bassist called in sick, however and rehearsal was cancelled, so instead Hrafnkell drove me over to his house and his wife made us dinner, then I showed him a few ninja riffs.

Friday night was PARTY night!! We had a visit from the archaeology department from the University of Reykjavik, it´s called a science trip, where the students were given a lecture and then we all tucked into lashings of beer. The problem was it all kicked off rather early by Icelandic standards, about 7.00pm. So by the time we´d all got to the pub about midnight everyone was well and truly wankered. Atli The King of Scotland bought me a stupid drink he called a Blue Cadillac, it was four shots; two separate shots of vodka, each topped up with sambuca and tequilla. The sambuca and vodka were set alight, the flame was blown out and I began drinking it through a straw whilst Atli poured the tequila and vodka mix in on top... Needless to say, I didn´t stay out much longer.

I spent yesterday trying, in vain, to buy a ticket to Boston. The fucking ticket office of Icelandic Air doesn´t open on a Saturday... as the airport was close to the Perlan (the building which provides Reykjavik with it´s geo-thermal hot water.), I wandered up to have a look at the Saga Museum that is located in one of the disused tanks. This was a Viking version of Madame Tussuad´s, maybe it would be better named Madame Tussuadsðottir. Various wax models told the history of Iceland in a rather potted way, I was quite disappointed as I was expecting preserved copies of the original Sagas, not some two-bit waxy Viking bullshit. On the slopes of the Perlan I found some, slurp slurp, concrete bunkers from the last war. I don´t seem to be able to go very far without tripping over some battlefield archaeology. I would have took photos, but being the cunt that I am, I forgot to take my camera. And my hat. Which I needed on the way to the airport when it started hailing sideways, when I was walking over some open fields. Then I met Angelos and we had a coffee and well needed chat, then bumped into Duncan and Roz and arranged to meet them both later for a few drinks. We went into town about midnight and went to the cheapest pub in Reykjavik (only 78 pounds a pint!). I wasn´t really in much of a party mood and probably wasn´t very good company, for which I can only apologise to Duncan and Roz.