Friday, January 21, 2005

Day 172 Stairs

Moonlight and whisky is not a good combination, especially when you launch yourself into the void on a big bit of cardboard, only to find yourself rattling down a flight of 500 steps on the far side of the hill at Malminkartano.

Imagine yourself at the Rautaruukki, Koverhar Steel Works. Imagine yourself as a piece of pig iron being beaten by a series of monsterous hydraulic jack-hammers.

When I reached the bottom of the steps you could have thrown me straight into a frying pan and cooked me rare. I was so tender.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

Day 172 Hill

I bought a fifth of cheap whisky and at midnight went out to climb the sledging hill at Malminkartano. It is a hill built out of rubbish, and in the winter when it is covered with snow people go sledging on it. It was deserted. I was alone.

The night was dark and clear... crisp would be the word. You could see as far as the Neste tower in Otaniemi, the water tower in Lauttasaari, the Lutheran catherdral in the town centre, and away on the opposite side of the hill the condensation from the cooling towers of the Vanta powerstation rose straight into the air. I looked at them and thought they were exclamation marks. Only the sentence that proceeded them was missing. Typical. Messages never come when you are looking for answers.

I drank down the whisky neat... straight from the bottle. A sip at a time as I looked at the stars in the cloudless sky. Light travelling from outerspace. How many years had it taken to travel all that distance for me to see on this starry starry night.

I finished off the whiskey and found a big bit of cardboard and decided to go over the edge of the steepest slope that nobody else dared to go down. The moon was full. Madness.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Day 171 Wootonga

It was the name that did it. The label on the bottle said Wootonga and I just had to investigate. It was only 5 euro and it had a 19 volt kick. Wootonga, Australian sweet sherry.

It might have been fine if I had drunk it in small amounts as an after dinner tipple, but I drank the whole bottle in one go, and for some unfathomable reason decided to eat a jar of Ahti raw baltic herring in a mustard sauce to go along with it.

Logic should tell you that Australian Sweet Sherry and raw baltic herring in mustard sauce is not a good combination, but let me just say that the unusualness of the flavours, the mingling of the sweetness and the bitterness was sufficiently interesting that three-quarters of the wine was gone and the almost all of the raw herring before the nausea began to creep into my throat.

Having started a project I was loathe to give up, so operating on the principle of a "hair of the dog that bite you" I downed the remaining glass of Wootonga in one gulp and observing some onion rings and black peppercorns remaining in the raw herring jar I ate them as well.

It was when the molars crunched through the peppercorns that the projectile vomiting started, and after the stomach was empty the dry retching continued. There is nothing worse than the taste of bile in your mouth... well in actual fact there is... Wootonga and raw herring.

I should not be punishing myself like this.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Day 170 Explainations

"I can't get my head around this. What you are saying is that Brita is a man who is on hormones and is about to undergo an operation to become a woman, and then get married to his girlfriend?"

"Well it was glaringly obvious to anyone. He didn't fool me for a second. I mean to say that truck drivers voice was a dead give-away"

"But I thought you fancied him when you thought he was a woman? Giving him flowers and that."

"Naw the flowers were destined for the dump anyways. Rubbish really."

"Rubbish with ribbons on... pull the other one. You're in denial"

Monday, January 17, 2005

Day 169 Close Shave

I didn't shave for a few days. I had that designer stubble, and I wandered down to the hair dressers to take the flowers to Brita. I intended to drop them off and leave, but she looked at me with a mischevious look in her eye and purred.

"You could do with a shave"

I couldn't believe my luck "Yeah I suppose I do... could you do it for me?"

"Sure hop up in the chair"

I settled into the chair and she took an old fashioned shaving brush and lathered my face. It was nice to feel the bristles on my bristles. She then began to strop an open edged razor on a brown leather belt to whet the edge. Her hands were quick as a weavers and with extremely deft movements she began to shave me.

"You're very good at this"

"Oh yes I used to shave quite regularly before I had the hormone treatment. Just waiting for the operation to be scheduled, then my girlfriend and I are puting in for a same sex marriage."