Love Thy Neighbour

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Our neighbours below us (Janne, Lotta and their two year old daughter, Edla) came for a first date at our place tonight. As usual, Jo had been the one to make first contact with them a while back, but it took some time to get a date sorted that suited all.

Freya and Edla hit it off immediately, and played wonderfully until they grudgingly fell asleep at 12 o’clock. Much more of a surprise was Freya’s speditious acceptance of Janne, and she was soon sitting in his lap, playing with him. We don’t see Freya’s cautiousness with men a problem, but it’s always nice to see her involving male company in her world.

We adults got on well together, too. Whilst the girls sat on the balcony, drinking and talking, Janne and I did the stereotypical thing, and played Pro Evo Soccer 5 on the PS2. I hadn’t expected him to be into games, only because nearly everyone else I know of our generation has a completely neutral opinion about videogames, so it was excellent to find someone with a similar interest to my favourite past-time.

As it turns out, all four of us seem quite compatible. I only hope Jo and I are not some sad couple who overestimate other people’s opinions of us, and we end up happily ringing them to invite them to all kinds of things, while they try their best to avoid us and eventually move cities to be rid of us.

Freya In Luxembourg

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We spent the last four days visiting some friends that we got to know when we were living the small but beautiful Duchy of Luxembourg some ten years ago.

The first two nights were spent in Suzi and David’s house, who now live just over the border in Germany. Freya had no problem acclimatising to her new surroundings, especially since the house is also home to a rabbit (Venus) and a guinea-pig (Blitz); the last two evening’s we stayed at Corrinne’s and Carlos’ house, which offered a very large balcony. Thanks to the relatively nice weather this was utilised on both days, and almost made up for the lack of pets.

We got to do so much in the four days we were there: Parc Merveilleux is a really good Animal Park with decent children’s playgrounds fairy tale themes splattered around the place; a small, unhealthily warm, but well-equipped butterfly gardin, Jardin des Papillons in Grevenmacher; visiting various pubs in the city, including paying a visit to see a DJ acquaintance, Marino.

All in all it was a marvelous break away, and it was fantastic catching up with old friends.

The Referee’s A W****r

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The football team that I’ve just started managing played their first match under my command today. We (Stockholm Wolves) were playing at home, in the Trent Park arena, and had an attendance of 1857; that isn’t bad for a newly put-together club, though I suspect many came to support “hästhagen steelers”, our opponents for today.

We lost the game 0-6, a result which does not do justice to our goalkeeper, Stefan Hjalmarsson, and his ability between the posts. The loss was expected, and I shall reserve any judgement about my managing skills until I have got to know the boys.

Hattrick is the place to visit to sign up for your own team, and challange other players (and sometimes bots). It’s visually quite basic, though there appears to be a fair amount of thinking and tactical decisions to be made to make real progress.

Here’s to my first victory, whenever that will come.

The Invasion Of “Russian” “Culture”

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This year’s Eurovision Song Contest has come and gone, and it is was a fiasco.

There has always been diplomatic voting, where Norway gives top points to Sweden, or Malta and Greece heal wounds by exchanging 12 points of goodwill; however this year, with the inclusion of so many former Eastern-bloc countries, it was just irritating to watch. Eight of the final top-ten countries were Eastern European (i.e. ex-Communist), as Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Bulgaria, Armenia, Hungary, Moldova, and countless others helped secure a “Soviet” victory.

Next year could see a further invasion of the East European Song Contest and, if the organisers have not found some cunning way to deal with the problem, we shall not vote. It’s not radical action, I know, but how radical can one be against a TV show? I reckon we could just not watch it, but I think that’s extremism.

We had Mattias, Linda and their youngest daughter, Mira, over to console each other by consuming obligatory alcohol (not Mira, obviously) that such events demands. Freya and Mira played well together, and didn’t fall asleep until very late (or was it early the next morning?).

Mattias and Linda finally crashed (Mattias somewhat sooner than Linda) on the sofa sometime later than the girls fell asleep, waking the next morning to headaches and croissants.

Wolves In The Play-Offs

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Dad and Mum took me to O’Leary’s today, to see “we are Wolves” play a football match. Rich was there, too, without my school friend (and his daughter) Esther. He let the side down a bit by not having a Wolves shirt on (unlike most of the other people there), but he seemed to be very happy when the side Wolves were playing scored goals. It perplexes me, this game. Ooh, some more popcorn!

Dad was quite nervous for the first part of the game, so it must have been important for him. I happily ate popcorn whilst Wolves were being shown on the many screens around the pub, and Mum, Dad and Rich consumed necessary glasses of beer.

I hear Dad trying to get me to say “Boing Boing”, which is something Rich has taught him, though I suspect the other Wolves supporters would kill Dad if they heard him teaching me the enemies war-cry. It appears Boing Boing has something to do with The Baggies, or West Brom, or Tescos. I’m not really listening because the popcorn keeps coming, and there’s only so much a girl can keep her mind on.

Lots of the other Wolves people there kept patting my head or dancing for me. It was all very nice, especially when Wolves scored a goal, but they didn’t give me much popcorn.

In the end Rich seemed happier than Mum, Dad and Wolves people. I was even happier because the man who gave the beers to people gave me popcorn, all without Dad taking out his money. I guess it pays to be small.