Author Archives: jon

My Life As A Bag-Man

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When I went to do the recycling yesterday I had a usual poke around the containers to see what junk other people had thrown away. I do this probably because of some hunter/gatherer instinct, but have nonetheless been rewarded before. Scavenging this time I came across an 85-year jubilee plate from one of Stockholm’s football teams, Djurgården.

Initially I took it to work, since I was on my way there anyway, to see if some Djurgården fan would like to take it off my hands. Then the hoarder in me took over, and, realising that this was a 1000-run limited edition, I stashed it back into my bag.

This piece of memorabilia was issued in 1978, a fact I’d overlooked due to the rather good quality of the plate. I reckon that in a couple of hundred years it may even be worth a few bob. Even if none of my relatives are the ones to cash in on it, I like the idea of saving it for some future generation Antique Roadshow asking some innocent bod the eternal question: “So, have you ever thought how much it might be worth?”

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Laurel And Hardy Looking Good

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My bosses at school are incompetent. This is a fact I’ve lived with for pretty much the five years I have been employed there, and for most of the time I am at peace with it, since it suits my purposes: I have the freedom to do what I like.

The main boss, the headmistress, is approaching old-age (hastened, no doubt, by alcohol), and tries to keep a tight reign on her baby. This would be admirable if it weren’t for the fact that she lies out of her arse, seldom fulfills her word, and seems to have no idea about the laws that govern the running of a school.

Along with her is the joke that is the headmaster. He is a dyslexic Arab whose grip of the Swedish language is slight, and, despite having an amiable demeanour on the surface, seems to have made some terrible accusations and comments to a few of the women employees. He is the right hand to Maria, and they are completely inapt at knowing what each other (and themselves, come to think of it) is doing.

I am not alone in this opinion, I guarantee, and it is only now, when I feel confident about my role as a teacher, that I can be bothered to put it writing. If The Office hadn’t have already been written, then my school would have surely given Ricky Gervais enough ideas for about 8 seasons.

A Weekend Of Fine Arts And Finer Tubers

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The problem with playing a newly-purchased game (Lord of the Rings: The Third Age, since you ask) is that I have little time to think about, and no time to write, this blog. This weekend, however, has been an eventful one for Freya, and so I need not delve deep to find something to screeve.

Three nights ago we forgot to put a nappy on Freya when she went to bed. For a fair few months now we have not been mentioning a night nappy to Freya (and will only give her one if she specifically asks), waiting, instead, until she was asleep before furnishing her with a nappy.

We actually forgot three nights ago, and it was only when the morning came that we realised what had happened, and at the same time realised the bed was dry. Since then (being a mere two nights) she has remained dry, which makes us (though not the manufacturers of nappies) very glad.

Yesterday we went to a hotel to eat a free brunch, something that came about through Jo’s work. Freya was given a couple of balloon flowers (they kept popping, which may have been due to the friction on the floor – I have no idea), and some new paints and glitter glue from Maria. The lunch itself was average for vegans, but the potatoes they served were fantastic, and Jo and I stuffed ourselves to get our money’s worth.

This weekend has also seen a general tidying-up, sorting out, and making Freya’s room more space effective. This has led to her having access to paints and recently bought felt tips (something that has been strictly supervised, due to possible unwanted redecorating), and she also received today some of my pearl-beads. She always loves playing with them when she gets the opportunity, and so having her own, in an accessible place, must be heaven for her. As soon as she got them she played “pizza” and “soup” with them.

Finally, today, we went to the cinema with her for the first time. We got free tickets from our neighbours (with whom we have become relatively friendly with, to the point where they are welcome to borrow our car when they want), and decided to see Laban, which lasted only forty minutes. Freya enjoyed it all immensely, especially the popcorn, and could have continued watching, but I think this was a good test of her will and concentration.

The World Turned Upside Down

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I walked into my local bank today to deposit some money into Jo’s account. Sitting down at the cashier’s desk I told the lady my wish, and that I had mistakenly forgotten to bring her account number with me, though I knew (most of) her ID number and other personal details. I was informed by the lady that she was unable to comply, since account numbers are sensitive things, and without one I could go and fuck myself there was little else to do than phone Jo to retrieve it.

My reply to this was that I could give the the cash, she could type it into the system without giving me a receipt (which shows the account number), and I would simply trust that she would not pocket the money to booze away that evening with her colleagues her. She explained once again that it is not possible to deposit any amount of money without the aforementioned account number, and that the company was very strict about protecting their customers (of which I am one).

A solution was quickly reached that I deposit the money into my account and thereafter transfer the necessary amount via the online service when I got home. Both parties appeared satisfied with this option, and I walked away a happy man.

Gone are the halcyon days of being able to walk into a bank and give them money. It would appear the only way they would accept currency was if I were to point a gun at someone, raise my voice in an aggressive way, and demand that I leave money in a bag on the desk. Oh, the irony of it.

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Kicking Nicotine

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It’s my eighth day without snus, today, and it was just as easy this time to give up as last time. This decision is partially thanks to the new government and the increase in snus-tax that they have implimented from the beginning of this year.

The first day without was mildly unpleasant, as my decreased dopamine levels kept reminding me to seek out reward, but since I was on my Christams holidays I could avoid any unpleasantries I might otherwise had been forced do dish out.

I had made a point of stopping whilst away from school. I knew that, at the first sign of a stressful moment, I’d have been needing a nicotine kick, and the school environment is not a peaceful one at the best of times.

Most of the times I get a little call for snus now are when I ritually used to take them (after meals and coffee, with a beer etc); other times of the day I feel competely free from addiction.

This new stage in my life has had its advantages, the main being economic. In just a week I have been able to buy a video game and 2 (cheap) DVDs for the same amount of money that would have gone under my lips and straight into my bloodstream. Yep, those little dopamine critters have found their reward, all right, and it suits the whole family.

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