The other day finishing dinner we were sitting at the table chitchatting. I think our usual conversation topics now increasingly are ones about packing, moving, journey, Oulu, etc. Ernest was still eating but with Lili we talked about the journey. She drew up the route on the table, the map of Poland and the Baltic states, the Baltic sea and Finland. All imaginary lines, and she presented the two alternative journeys, one driving through the Baltic states and the other taking the ferry from Gdansk, actually Gdynia to Helsinki. She was asking which way we go, she wanted to make sure we take the longer route, shorter ferry from Tallinn. I was happy to calm her anxiety because we are driving up to Tallinn. She however amazed me with the incredibly detailed knowledge of the European north-east. A was almost rendered speechless. Almost. But it’s me
Ernest quickly realised that drawing imaginary lines on the table and explaining something very important like ‘blabla tapatee dubiduh…’ will not only get my attention but fill me with pride and joy. And it did. In his case for a slightly different reason than Lili’s, naturally. Nevertheless they both made me joyful in an easy manner.
We run out of boxes. I will have to go on the hunt tomorrow morning again. I guess it happens. Jen fills them up quickly. But I finally managed to start chipping in, taking part in the great effort in ways other than making phone calls. I gather up stuff that need to go in boxes. I did our cloakroom (hah, we have one of those) and I started stripping parts of the kitchen. Ernest was standing on the step this morning doing dishes while I was also standing on the step sorting the glasses and cups cupboard. I must have not anticipated my clumsiness when it comes to breakables.
Wonderful how quickly the human mind can make a decision. I had the choice of trying to catch our last remaining wine glass before it reaches the sink, potentially smashing it up against the cupboard or letting it fall into the sink and smashing to bits there. I chose the former even in the full knowledge this was exactly the way my mum cut her hand rather seriously some 25 years ago. She also went for the catch. Our story didn’t end in the accident and emergency however but Ernest did have to take a break from doing dishes for the incredible amount of shattered glass (you wonder how a wine glass can break into a million splinters).
Small mental note; do not handle breakables above the heads of your children. Taking a break from doing dishes though resulted in tears. I wish my children retained their fondness of dishwashing in the years to come.
Hungary’s EU presidency finishes by the end of June. I was going to ask you to keep watching with a close eye. If you think they were… hm, hard to find a PC word here, so if they were somewhat dubious till now, once the lame light is on Warsaw you can wonder what politicians find themselves doing in Budapest. But. Recent public comments from our beloved Berluscone makes you wonder, why bother at all. I follow politics from four European countries and vaguely from a half a dozen others and honestly, the only place that so far does not make me cry is Scotland. The SNP – if my understanding is correct – managed to win an election through a positive assertion rather than going ugly like the rest of them. Scots also inserted a party into government with a majority in an electoral system that is designed to make such thing impossible. And it’s all about devolved government and self-determination. Make no mistake, I am not fun of this government (I usually rather critical of them all) but I certainly take a joyful break when looking at the relatively civilized manner with which politics is ‘done’ in Scotland (especially when compared with the rest of Europe). Wonder if one day we will return to claim a refuge there from the madness that slowly, actually at an increasing pace creeps up or actually advances on Europe.
I’ve read a status update recently from Glasgow, about not wanting to go shopping with the kids because of the wind. I thought ‘what?’ but quickly remembered, the west coast… hm. If a local complains about the wind there must be flying roofs and cars. And there almost were. Sitting in the 30 degrees heat, bagging for rain I wonder, politics is a thing and climate is another. For the time being