Aduatuza

What can be said about this week? What can I tell you? well let's start at the beginning. Monday is a good place to begin I guess. We had a site meeting that lasted for two and a half hours and the main achievement of it was that we sorted out who would be washing up the cups at the end of each day. We then carried on with the work in Area C, i.e. cleaning off more dumping layers. We also had a new addition to the team in the shape of a fish bone expert. I can't remember what the real name for fish bone experts is or be bothered to look it up. Do it yourself if you're that way inclined. It's your life that you're wasting, not mine. Anyhoo, she now wants the entire tent sampling for fish bone. I told Vala I'd do the fish bone report;

'Small Fish: 134678 fragments.
Medium Fish: 467890 Fragments
Big Fish: 123314 Fragments.

Conclusion: People in the old days ate fish in Reykjavik.'

That'll be 50,000 Kroner please. Can I have it in Dollars though, it's a much more stable currency? Thanks.

Atli came over on Monday night for a game or two of Memoir 44, the game I bought a while back. I told him 'It's easy to learn, any idiot will be able to play it, so you should have no problem.' My over confidence was my weakness, he was such an idiot he beat me three times to nothing.

Tuesday passed with no incident to speak of. Actually it was so incidental that I don't remember anything that happened at all. No, a complete blank. Wednesday evening was passed with me cooking a Mexican meal for Roz and Duncan as they had cooked for me on Sunday evening (A lovely vegetable stew. Om nom nom.)

I awoke this morning with my back locked up, I must have slept funny on it as I could hardly move at all. I took the day off work to get the back back in order [sic]. It happened before when I was living in Dublin, it passes soon, but is another symptom of this fucking job that I call a career.

...As Long As Winds Will Blow...

Jo left on Saturday morning for a month. She's gone back to Auld Landan town, innit? We all spent Friday night watching Batman 'Dark Knight'. An excellent film, that I was wanting to watch again. I like Batman more than any of the other Superheroes. He seems more real than, say, Superman. Superman is just up his own arse. 'Oooh look at me, I've got all these powers. I can burn through steel with my eyes. Yeah, that's right my fucking eyes!' Batman seems far more human. It's not just him doing the crime fighting. He has a back up team. OK, so it mainly consists of the old fart Alfred, but at least he has help. I also like the Joker as a character and not just in the film. I used to have this old collection of the greatest Joker stories ever told. Right back from some of the first Batman comics in 1940 he was a crazy fucking murderer. No rhyme or reason to him. This is what Heath Ledger portrays much better than Jack Nicholson did. Obviously in the 1960's when Comics came under the crushing influence of the Comics Code Authority, Joker was stripped of all this menace, as was Batman and he became as ludicrous as the TV show of the same time. It was only after Watchmen that Batman and the Joker by proxy recovered. Arkham Asylum, Year One, The Killing Joke are all worth checking out from this period. Also any of the Legends of the Dark Knight comics series. Mind you, all this was made possible with the brain drain of British talent to the States, mainly from writers of 2000AD.

Enough about comics. I spent Saturday in town buying board games expansion packs and tidying my room and the bathroom. The bathroom needed it. No one had touched it for about two months and I'm sure there were things living in between the tiles. I could feel tentacles reaching out for my whilst shaving, like some Lovecraftian dank horror had bred in the filth. I headed out to TÞM to see Gone Postal play a gig for the release of their new album. There was three bands supporting them, I missed the first two, but managed to see Severed Crotch. I've seen these lads play before and I've a real soft spot for them. Ball crushing Death Metal, their singer is pretty amazing with his vocals. Both bands put on a really good show, but I can't help but laugh at badly translated songs. One of Gone Postal's tracks is called Void of Torment.I mean just think about that for a second. Void of Torment. What the fuck does that even mean? You are not being tormented? Surely that's a good thing? Why is a Death Metal band promoting good things? Or does it mean you're in a void, where you will be tormented? I'm confused, if anyone can help me on this one, I'd love to know...

After the gig, which was what appeared to be a youth club (No bar and full of teenagers... dear God help me...) I met Angelos for drinks in Dillon. I can't remember much else about Saturday night except I know some shots were involved, as was a chicken burger and a taxi ride. I woke up about two in the afternoon, so I'm assuming I had a good time. I spent Sunday recovering and fannying about all day.

Vanadis

I've been wondering why no one is commenting on this blog anymore. I know you're reading it, I've got stalker software installed on it so I can see exactly who (almost) is coming on and reading it. Please leave comments. It only takes an minute. You can even tell me this is a pile of shit and I should stop. Whatever.

This has been the first week back after Christ's Mass, James went back home on Tuesday after a meal at the East India Company restaurant which was fantastic. I promised myself a return journey to this place at some point. I like Indian food, very much and this was good stuff.

The rest of the week was dominated by work, as boring as this is. Trowelling off piles of dumping layers is not the most stimulating work I have ever done and I am dreaming of the days I can buy a fuck load of military books off Colin and start selling them. Mind you I made myself a little more comfortable on Wednesday by setting up a painting table and prepping some WW1 British Infantry. I may as well fill my evenings with something more rewarding than watching America's Next Top Model.

I bought Series 8 of Seinfeld yesterday, I bought it from the music shop up Laugarvegur, instead of Elko as I was advised by Margret and Lilja. Infact all week they have been on at me to buy all my products at Elko.

'I need new Headphones' I idly mused

'You'll get them at Elko' Cried Lilja and Marget

After I'd bought (from the same shop as the Seinfeld DVDs) them they asked how much they were and was told they would have been cheaper at Elko. I then went on to mention I was thinking of buying the last two series of Seinfeld that I didn't own. Where do you think I was advised to buy them? That's right... Elko. It's like they have second jobs working on the sales committee at Elko. I'm surprised they don't have Elko tattoos.

In other news, my so-called 'friends' have been writing a blog together (they are so dumb they couldn't do it on their own...). Yesterday the latest piece of shit was published and lo and behold who is in it as a minor character. Yes that's right, it's me. Here is the address if you wish to read this shit, but I wouldn't bother. You'd only be wasting your valuable time.

Midgards Eldar

After a good long sleep James and I headed into town to grad something to eat and then ended up in Dillon where we met Duncan and Roz. I also got chatting to a guy called Atli, who had set up the Fuck Christmas festival that I attended before going home. We started chatting due to mutual t-shirt approval. Mine for his Autopsy shirt and him for my Gorgoroth shirt.The next morning we headed out earlyish to get to Akureyri to meet Hrafnkell and Iris. There was little to tell about the journey except that we passed through several beautiful mountain ranges on the way. We me H-bomb outside Akureyri at a local hardware shop and followed him to the house we'd be staying in for the next night at least. The place was a homage to the seventies and was well received by all of us. We all headed out to the local Akureyri fire, which I can say without a shadow of doubt, was the biggest fire I have ever seen in my life. Then we were treated to the firework display which was pretty amazing. Especially the final ones which went off like Tall Boy Bombs...
Hrafnkell's family very generously opened their house to us and we were served cakes and coffee and listened to Hrappi's younger brother tell us about his Lego Town. It's a pity we never go to see it... After this we left the family to watch the Icelandic end of year show and headed back to the house. About 11.30 it started to sound like downtown Baghdad outside. The town folk had started their own fireworks displays and by gum, it beat the local council one into the ground. It was so intense I was having flash backs to 'Nam. Tottenham, mainly. after this amazing display we set off into town for drinkies. Lilja and her other half joined us, as did Stefan and his other half. Finally crashed out about six am.The next day Jo, James and I headed up the fjords to see Ginavik and some turf houses there. Very nice little buildings in a beautiful setting. The rest of the day was spent recovering and heading out to Dalvik to Iris' father's house were we would be staying for the night. Iris showed us around the Museum her father curates, and I tried on the tallest man in the world ever's shoes. In the morning we headed out to Mývatn and Dimmuborgir, the eerie lava formations the band take their name from. The path was a frozen solid and it took a while to get around without slipping on our arses. Which most of us did anyway. With the light against us, as usual we headed to a crater with a lake in the bottom, overlooking some power stations that harnessed geothermal energy. Clever people these Icelanders... Then forging on we headed to Námafjall to see the billowing fumeroles. Again this country never ceases to amaze. After the light had fallen we headed to the spa baths at Mývatn and spent an enjoyable two hours and one pint in the healing waters. We headed back to Hrappi's and played on the Wii all night.

The following morning we were treated to the unmitigated horror of the Christmas shop outside Akureyri. The less said about this horror the better... The light was dropping out of the day as we hit the road back to Reykjavik were Duncan, Roz, James and I painted the town red. Another six AM finish... A lazy Sunday was what I got today. Relaxation in the local pool's hotpots and a kebab in town then home to a nice sit down.

Norvegr

The rest of Christmas was spent rather quietly with the exception of showing Steve, Lauren and Clare round Rotherham on Saturday night. Rumble Strip were playing in the SNAFU and as they are the second best band that play there we stayed and watched them until closing time after visiting several other places of local interest. Mainly the massive TV in the town center. I basically got drunk Sunday night then Monday afternoon with Mark, and then Justin and Lucy on their way back from Northumberland to Brighton. It was strange to sit in one of my local pubs drinking with two people I only saw in Iceland a few weeks previously. The flight back to Reykjavik was a nightmare. The original time for the flight was set at 7.30pm, both myself and my brother had received an email to tell us the flight was being delayed until 10.30pm. When we arrived at the airport about 8.30 we were told the flight wouldn't be leaving until 11.55pm. We dutifully took our seats on the plane about 11.45pm only to be told that there was a problem with a leakage on the nosecone and the technicians were coming out to fix it. It turns out the technicians didn't have the right piece of paper with them. They had the tools alright, but NO PIECE OF PAPER!! So they went away again, to try to find their piece of paper. Meanwhile the stewards started giving out drinks as complimentary, I thought the logic of this was a little off. A plane packed with angry people in a confined space, the best thing to do? Ply them with booze! Finally the technicians found their piece of paper and sellotaped the nosecone up or whatever it was they were doing and we were off. At 2am. Only a mere six and a half hours after the original time I had booked. I finally crawled to bed about 6.30am. Thanks Iceland Express!!

If you're wondering why there are pictures in this post, it's because Dave said it was boring just looking at blocks of text, so I thought I'd break it up a little. See, I listen to you, my loyal readership. Any more ideas, you know where to send em!

Vetrarnótt

OK, it's the day before we hang dead horses in the trees in celebration of the sun coming back full circle and providing us with the bounties of Earth again. Hail Wotan! I thought I'd do a short update on what I've been up to since getting back. I'll try to keep these short as Danny was complaining last night about how long winded they are. 'They're for me, it's an online diary.' I said 'Don't read it if you don't like it.' That told him.

I was out on Saturday night for Dave's 'Work do'. Which consisted of myself, Linzi and Dave getting into an awful state in Rotherham, deciding it would be a good idea to go to Sheffield and ending up in Club Shush at 4.30 falling asleep in the Chill Out room. So most of Sunday was wiped out until I called in on Mark in the evening for a game of draughts and then some more beer in the pub. Festivus is being very appeased this year!

I called in at Meadowhell on Monday morning to pick up a last present, I thought it should be relatively quiet, being that people are probably still at work. Boy was I wrong, it was like a nuclear war had been declared and everyone was panic buying tins of beans and other non-degradable foodstuffs. The place was rammed and it was quite frustrating seeing the lack of sense people have. I walked past a couple who were seriously eyeing up some pre-cooked roast parsnips. Now, call me dumb, but I thought that roasting parsnips was probably one of the easiest thing you could ever do. Peel them, put some stuff on them (olive oil and herbs or anything you have to hand...), put them in the oven, take them out when they are done and eat them. But then I guess some people have the ability to burn water, so need all the help they can get when it comes to doing the simplest jobs on the planet. God help them if there IS a nuclear war. Picture it; a time when shambolic groups of people are trading with different coloured pebbles and fighting over water. There would be another group of people slowly starving to death trying to find food that is pre-prepared in tinfoil trays with instructions to pre-heat the oven to 200 degrees. Unable to recognise food in it's natural state, i.e. with the skin on and not in a tray, they would be a dying breed. I weep for these times.

I called in to see Lauren at work, she showed me her body. Sorry, I mean bodies. Hundreds of them, in boxes. Rooms stacked full of skeletons. Some were rather interesting, especially the Anchoress. Then we both went and had lunch and then met Clare, which made for three hours of circular arguments. I still miss her though. I also bumped into Colin and managed to wrestle the last remaining Osprey books that he owes me out of his hands.

In the evening I called up to Dave's gaff and we celebrated Festivus yet again, this time whilst watching 'Get Thrashed' the documentary on Thrash Metal from the eighties. Pretty cool stuff. I was hoping Nathan would call over but he was obviously hopped up on copious amounts of cheap Dextromethorphan or something similar he'd bought in India.

Tuesday passed without much interest, I was listening to music and trying to find my Curb Your Enthusiasm DVDs, to no avail. I called over the Danny's, picked him and we called up to the Hind to meet up with Aimee and Juliette, whom I'd not seen for twelve years (she said thirteen, what's a year between friends?) (and that's Juliette, I'd not seen for 12/13 years, not Aimee, who I saw about six months ago.). The quiz was on and we did spectacularly bad. I did the first four answers on my own while they were all out having a fag and I scored 75% correct. It was only when I was joined by the other numbskulls that the brain drain began. Also Aimee and Juliette were both in trouble from their other halves for going out and having fun. Sometimes it pays to be single. all four of us piled up to Dave's for after hours drinks, even with Danny whining 'I have to be up at four'. I think he was a little taken aback at how drunk we were, but he was the kindly host as ever. Festivus was once again truly served!

Lifandi Lif Undir Hamri

We had our house Christ's Mass dinner on Wednesday evening, it consisted of Lamb for Duncan and I and fish ('fash') for Roz and Jo. All in all a lovely meal, ably cooked by Roz and Duncan, I washed up and Jo brought nothing to the table. I had a good long celebration of Festivus in the company of a bottle of rum, some ice and a lime.

I didn't sleep too well Wednesday night but dragged myself to work where I was promptly thrown out of the warm womb like office and into the cold harsh reality of the tent. No Facebook out there... Mind you, it was good crack, five men talking about men things, fighting, drinking and women. This only lasted until Lilja turned up half-way through the day, covered in make up like a two penny strumpet and reeking of cheap perfume. Not only did she ruin the man atmosphere, she cheated at cards during afternoon break. Thursday evening had been earmarked for a final night celebration and also Sindre's birthday bash. I decided to go, then decided not to go, then Jo and I got some shit of our chests that had been there all week, then I decided to go, then I said I was only staying for two drinks, then I went for a hotdog at midnight, then I said I'd only have one more drink, then I dragged Jo drunkenly through the snow at 2am. Good night. I was talking to Lilja for most of the evening, if you're wondering why I keep mentioning Lilja it's because she said she only reads this, but then stops if there's nothing in it about her, so I thought I'd keep mentioning her to see if she was still reading it.

I was awoken at 4.00am by my alarm, and dragged my sorry drunken, sicky pudding feeling self out of bed to go and meet Sindre and the taxi for the airport. The flight home was made dreadful by this massive Icelandic family sitting in all the seats around me, with their retardo son sitting in the same row as my seat. Their kids were screaming and fighting the whole way and Retardo the Magnificent kept jumping up and running about, kicking the seats in front of him and putting the tray up and down on the seat next to mine. I gave him some withering looks to make sure he knew I meant business.

The train journey from Stansted was little better, I had to change four times and finally got back home 12hrs after I had left the comfort of my nice warm bed. I was going to go out to Arcus' Christ's Mass party in Sheffield, but I was completely fucked from lack of sleep and had no real way of getting home that didn't involve an expensive taxi journey, so I decided to have a bath and listen to some of the twenty one CDs that were waiting for me on my return to the UK.