Wednesday January 8 2020

09:00 Christmas is over - and we can't suppress this thought anymore - sob, sob !!!!

I drag the Christmas tree and boxes of Christmas decorations up the loft ladder and store them all up there until next Christmas.

While in the attic, I take the opportunity to look around in the undocumented areas a little removed from the entrance hatch. I am very aware that the council’s garbage truck is coming tomorrow at 7 am, but Lois and I, two old crows with a very simple lifestyle, cannot manage to fill more than about 20% of our wheelie-bin, which is a bit of a shame .

Earlier this year I had been trying for months to reduce all the rubbish we have stored up there in the attic, as part of my downsizing mini project, but my success had been a bit limited to put it mildly, and on top of that, the project has now been completely on hold for a few months - damn it!

flashback to July: I collect a lot of various unwanted belongings

into the only well-documented area of ​​the attic, right next to the entrance hatch

To some extent, it's Lois who is the project's "weak link" - she likes to leaf through many of the bits of old rubbish before we throw them away, but I’m going to let that one slide, because sometimes she comes across important things that we would be crazy to throw out, so fair enough ha ha! Plus, she’s always eager to give things to charity shops wherever possible, which is also fair enough.

So that’s why today I concentrate on finding things in the attic that are 100% without a shadow of a doubt totally useless. I come across what Americans call a "fussball or foosball". Even though it's been about 35 years since Lois and I left the US and moved back to England, I've forgotten the British words for a lot of things. I have the feeling that we just call it a "football table" or "table football", but I'm not quite sure.

Lois and I bought the football table in 1990 when we were preparing to welcome a German girl, Birgit, into our home for 3 weeks on a school exchange visit - our 15-year-old daughter Alison was studying German at the time, and her high school had a regular arrangement with a high school in Bad Kreuznach.

We did not know how well Birgit spoke English, and we tried to come up with ideas about how the two girls could spend some time without constantly having to talk to each other. Good grief - what madness !!! Of course when it came to it, Birgit could speak English very well, better than us in many cases ha ha ha! And I recall we took Birgit to Stratford-on-Avon to see the sights, including Anne Hathaway's Cottage and the like.

(left to right), Lois (44), Birgit (15) and Alison (15) beside the River Avon

Birgit, Lois and Alison at the door of Anna Hathaway’s Cottage

Lois on the  historic High Street

Birgit, Alison and me (45) in my old British Embassy sweater

And there we have the problem about clearing up in the attic - too much nostalgia - damn !!!

“Time it was, and what a time it was, I have a photograph.

Preserve your memories – they’re all that’s left you” - copyright Paul Simon ha ha ha!

11:00 Finally I emerge from the attic with 3 things I can stuff into our wheelie bin, which is nice.

(a) The football table, dismantled with the legs, etc. removed and standing next to it

(b) my old rowing machine, not used for 20 years or so: dismantled and now in 4 parts.

(c) an old TV table

Hurrah, result! Back of the net ha ha ha!

Meanwhile, Lois has been dusting the entire house - and she's much more exhausted than me, to put it mildly. After lunch I go to bed and take a gigantic afternoon nap while Lois sits down on the couch and looks at another episode of the "Father Brown" crime mysteries. The series is set in a small village in the Cotswold hills, which is nice.

"Kembleford" is one of those fictional, outwardly "quiet and peaceful" country villages, which are hotbeds of crime, needless to say. There is at least one murder a week, possibly one murder a day, but I'm not quite sure. The local police are basically incompetent, so it is up to some amateur detective to solve all the murders, in this case, the local priest, Father Brown.

Cosy ha ha ha !!!!

20:00 After dinner we spend the rest of the evening watching some television. This week, the TV channels are all launching their new drama series, which don't attract Lois and me, to put it mildly. There is nothing particularly interesting on for oldies  such as Lois and me, so we are forced to look around for something more tempting, but undemanding, in our massive stack of recorded programmes from Christmas and New Year.

We come across a music documentary about the "Irish" folk and punk music group The Pogues and their iconic Christmas song "Fairy Tale of New York" which is one of our favourite Christmas songs.

We learned a lot of things we didn't know - the song lay half-dormant for years inside lead singer Shane McGowan's head before it was released just before Christmas 1988.

For many years the song had lacked its female co-voice, after the group's original singer-and-bass player Cait O'Riordan quit. Kirsty MacColl, who finally sang the female part, was producer Steve Lilywhite's wife, but it was discovered that she had the perfect voice for the song. Lois and I knew her for her country and western songs, especially her own composition "There’s a Guy Works Down the Chip shop Swears He’s Elvis" and other fun songs.

There's a guy works down the chip shop swears he's Elvis,

Just like you swore to me that you'd be true.

There's a guy works down the chip shop swears he's Elvis,

But he's a liar and I'm not sure about you

In fact, The Pogues are not really an Irish band, they are all English except for Shane himself, who has spent most of his life in England.

Fun fact: Shane laughs like Bert in Sesame Street's "Bert and Ernie", maybe because of his lack of teeth, but that's something the jury is still out on. I recall that I perfected my parody of both Bert and Ernie's laugh for the benefit of our 2 young daughters Alison and Sarah when we lived in the US in 1982-85, but I have a feeling they didn't find it very funny, which was a bit of a shame. Damn!

The song's title was inspired by one of JP Donleavy's novels, "A Fairy Tale of New York". Donleavy allowed Shane to borrow the title, after Shane told him the novel was his father's favourite book (which was true).

Lois was a librarian in Oxford in the 1960’s and she recalls that some of Donleavy's books and plays (for example, The Ginger Man) were locked in the library's so-called "dirty books" cupboard in the basement, wedged in between works such as "Lady Chatterley's Lover "," Tropic of Cancer ", "Forever Amber "," Moll Flanders" etc etc - there were stacks of them, she says, and the cupboard was overflowing with them ha ha ha! In reality, they were not dirty books, needless to say, but the library staff liked the name for the cupboard, so they ran with it.

Library members could ask for these books, but they were not on the shelves, so you had to be quite brave when it came to approaching librarians if you wanted to borrow them, she says.

And the library staff themselves were not immune to surrendering to the temptation to leaf through some of these books during their lunch hour, if it was raining heavily, or the like, she comments.

Simpler times ha ha ha !!

flashback to 2013: Lois on a nostalgia trip to Headington Library, Oxford

22:00 We go to bed - zzzzzzzz !!!!

Danish translaton: onsdag den 8. januar 2020

09:00 Julen er forbi – og vi kan ikke fortrænge denne tanke længere – hulk, hulk!!!!

Jeg slæber juletræet og kasserne med juledekorationer op ad loftstigen og gemmer dem alle deroppe indtil næste jul.

Mens jeg er oppe i loftet, benytter jeg lejligheden til at se mig om i de udokumenterede områder lidt væk fra loftslemmen. Jeg er meget bevidst om, at kommunens skraldebil kommer i morgen kl 7, men Lois og jeg, to gamle krager med en helt simpel livstil, kan ikke formå at fylde mere end omkring 20% af vores hjulede affaldsbeholder, hvilket er lidt af en skam.

Tidligere på året havde jeg i flere måneder været i gang med at prøve at mindske al det lort, vi har gemt deroppe i loftet, som en del af mit downsize mini-projekt, men min succés har været lidt begrænset for at sige mildt, og oven i købet har projektet været totalt på vågeblus i et par måneder – pokkers!

Tilbageblik til juli: jeg samler en masse forskellige uønskede egenskaber

i loftets eneste veldokumenterede område lige ved siden af loftlemmen

I en vis grad er det Lois, der er projektets ”svage led” – hun kan godt lide at blade igennem stykker gammel lort, før vi smider dem væk, men det springer jeg over, fordi nogle gange falder hun over vigtige ting, som vi ville være vanvittige at smide ud, så fair nok ha ha! Plus er hun altid ivrig efter at give ting til velgørenhedsbutikker hvor muligt, hvilket også er fair nok.

Så derfor i dag koncentrerer mig om at finde ting i loftet, der er 100% uden en skygge af tvivl ubrugelige. Jeg falder over hvad amerikanerne kalder et ”fussball eller foosball” – selvom det er omkring  35 år siden Lois og jeg forlod USA og flyttede tilbage til England, har jeg glemt de britiske ord til en masse ting. Jeg har på fornemmelsen, at vi bare kalder det en ”football table” eller  ”table football”, men det er jeg ikke helt sikker på.

Lois og jeg købte fussballbordet i 1990, da vi forberedte os på at modtage en tysk pige, Birgit, ind til vores hjem i 3 uger på skoleudvekslingsbesøg– vores 15-årige datter Alison studerede tysk dengang, og hendes højskole havde en regelmæssig aftale med en højskole i Bad Kreuznach.

Vi vidste ikke, hvor godt Birgit talte engelsk, og vi prøvede at komme med idéer om, hvor de to piger kunne tilbringe lidt tid uden af måtte tale konstant med hinanden. Du godeste - sikke et vanvid!!! Selvfølgelig når det kom til stykket, kunne Birgit tale engelsk meget godt, bedre end os i mange tilfælde ha ha ha! Og jeg mindes om, at vi tog Birgit med til Stratford-on-Avon for at se seværdighederne, inklusive Anne Hathaway’s Cottage og den slags.

(venstre til højre), Lois (45), Birgit, Alison ved siden af floden Avon

Birgit, Lois og Alison i døren af Anna Hathaways Cottage

 Lois (45) på byens højgade

Birgit, Alison, og mig (45) i min ”British Embassy” sweater

Og der har vi problemet med at rydde op i loftet – for meget nostalgi – pokkers!!!

”Time it was, and what a time it was, I have a photograph.

Preserve your memories – they’re all that’s left you” copyright Paul Simon ha ha ha!

11:00  Endelig dukker jeg frem fra loftet med 3 ting, jeg kan proppe ind i vores hjulede affaldsbeholder, hvilket er rart.

(a)    fussballbordet, demonteret med benene osv fjernede og stående ved siden af

(b)    min gammel romaskine, ikke brugt i 20 år eller deromkring: demonteret og nu i 4 dele.

(c)    et gammelt tv-bord

Hurra, resultat! Bolden er i nettet ha ha ha!

I mellemtiden har Lois været i gang med at støve af i hele huset – og hun er meget trættere, end mig, for at sige mildt. Og efter frokost går jeg i seng for at tage en gigantisk eftermiddagslur, mens Lois sætter sig til rette i sofaen og ser på endnu et afsnit af ”Father Brown”-krimimysterier. Serien udspiller sig i en lille landsby i Cotswold-bakkerne, hvillket er rart.

”Kembleford” er én af de der fiktive udadtil ”stille og rolige” landsbyer, som er arnesteder for kriminalitet, unødvendigt at sige. Der er mindst ét mord om ugen, muligvis ét mord om dage, men det er jeg ikke helt sikker på. Det lokale politi er grundlæggende ukompetent, så tilkommer det én eller anden amatørdetektiv at løse alle de mord, i dette tilfælde, den lokale præst, Father Brown.

Hyggeligt ha ha ha!!!!

20:00 Efter aftensmad bruger vi resten af aftenen på at se lidt fjernsyn. Denne uge er tv-kanalerne alle i gang med at lancere deres nye dramaserier, som ikke tiltrækker Lois og mig, for at sige mildt. Der er ikke noget særlig interessant for kanalernes oldinge, såsom Lois og mig, så bliver vi tvunget til at rode rundt efter noget mere fristende, men ukrævende,  i vores stakkevis af optagede programmer fra jul-og-nytår periode.

Vi støder på en musikdokumentarfilm, der handler om den ”irske” folk- og punk-musikgruppe The Pogues og deres ikoniske julesang ”Fairy Tale of New York”, som er én af vores yndlings-julesange.

Vi lærte en masse ting, vi ikke vidste – sangen lå i mange år halvt-i dvæle inde i forsangeren Shane McGowans hoved, før den blev udsendt lige inden jul 1988.

I mange år manglede sangen dens kvindelige co-stemme, efter gruppens oprindelige sangerinde-og-bassspiller Cait O’Riordan stak af. Kirsty MacColl, der endelig sang den kvindelige del, var produceren Steve Lilywhites kone, men det var opdaget, at hun havde den perfekte stemme til sangen. Lois og jeg kendte hende for hendes country og western-sange, især hendes egen komposition ”There’s a Guy Works Down the Chipshop Thinks He’s Elvis” og andre morsomme sange.

There's a guy works down the chip shop swears he's Elvis
Just like you swore to me that you'd be true.
There's a guy works down the chip shop swears he's Elvis
But he's a liar and I'm not sure about you

Faktisk er The Pogues ikke irere, de er alle englændere bortset fra selve Shane, der har tilbragte størstedelen af sit liv i England.

Sjovfaktum: Shane griner ligesom Bert i Sesame Streets ”Bert og Ernie”, måske på grund af sin mangel på tænder, men det er juryen stadig ude om. Jeg mindes om, jeg perfektionerede min parodi af både Bert og Ernies grin til fordel af vores 2 unge døtre Alison og Sarah, da vi 1982-85 boede i USA, men jeg har på fornemmelsen, at de ikke fandt det særlig morsomt, hvilket var lidt af en skam. Pokkers!

Sangens titel var inspireret af én af JP Donleavys romaner, ”A Fairy Tale of New York”. Donleavy tillod Shane at låne titlen, efter Shane fortalte ham, bogen var hans fars yndlingsbog (hvilket var sandt).

Lois var bibliotekar i Oxford i 1960’erne og hun mindes  om, at nogle af Donleavys bøger og teaterstykker (eksempelvis The Ginger Man) blev aflåst i bibliotekets såkaldte ”sjofle bøger”-skab i kælderen, klemmet ind imellem værker såsom ”Lady Chatterley’s Lover”, ”Tropic of Cancer”, ”Forever Amber”, ”Moll Flanders”  osv osv – der var stakkevis af dem, siger hun, og skabet flød med dem ha ha ha! I virkeligheden var de ikke sjofle bøger, unødvendigt at sige, men bibliotekets personale kunne godt lide navnet, så løb de med det.

Bibliotekets medlemmer kunne bede om disse bøger, men de fandtes ikke på hylderne, så måtte man være ganske modig, når det kom til at nærme sig bibliotekarerne, hvis man havde lyst til at låne dem, siger hun.

Og bibliotekets personale var selve ikke immune over for at overgive sig til fristelsen til at blade igennem nogle af disse bøger under deres frokosttid, hvis det regnede kraftigt, eller lignende, kommenterer hun.

Simplere tider ha ha ha!!

Tilbageblik til 2013: Lois på nostalgi-trip til Headington-biblioteket, Oxford

22:00 Vi går i  seng – zzzzzzzz!!!!