Sun

Well the dental pain has subsided thanks to the antibiotics, and I've got an extra dose of drugs in case the infection flares up again during the easter holidays. We're going to the sun. Well not the sun exactly, but a place where it tends to shine all year round. I've been rooting out summer clothes, checking if they still fit, mine and the kids. My eldest daughter danced with glee yesterday as she tried out summer tops and skirts; I just felt cold looking at her. But dragging out thin cotton garments is not just about a week in the Canaries this time. We now know that we are moving to a tropical city where such clothes will be our uniform. No more boots, jackets, socks, sweaters or scarves. If I hadn't actually lived in South East Asia (hint!) before, I probably couldn't imagine it. I still don't want to say where we're going until my husband has signed his contract. Call it superstition. I also need to let friends know; I don't think any of them actually read my blog, but I don't want someone feeling put out if they do and hear it here first. As soon as he has signed on the dotted line, I will tell all. In the meantime, I have a new line in my job description; researcher and compiler of school applications. All the schools I have approached are currently full but hopefully families will be moving on and will start telling their schools soon. Their application forms are very, very detailed. Vaccinations records, school records, dietary issues, health checks, and so on. The poor printer is working overtime spewing out three copies of the multiple forms required to apply to four schools. It's a luxury I know, but kind of weird too, hoping to be chosen, especially as the whole school thing is such a central part of the childrens', and hence the family's, lives. It's a long way from the local school down the road, that's for sure.
I'm posting a photo taken when I was six months pregnant with my first child in the city where we are to make our next home. This is the first time in my life we are actually moving to a place I have visited before arriving there to live. If I'd had a crystal ball back in December 2000, I'd have visited some of the schools. Ah well.

Dental nightmare

I was going to write a HILARIOUS post on the signs of Spring. Then yesterday, we woke up to 10cm of new snow which isn't very spring-like, or hilarious, at all. Maybe next week, I'll write about Spring.
In other news, I've had major trouble with the roots on one of my front teeth. Of course, the pain hit at the weekend. I had, pre-agony, got an appointment with an endodontist in mid-April to check out an old Singaporean root canal. There had been a niggle a few weeks back to prompt this; I'm not a sadist. Desperate for help, with my dentist's office closed on saturday, I called the endodontist's practise on saturday afternoon. A colleague of the guy I had the appointment with was very rude telling me basically that he couldn't help me, that I should try going through the telephone book to find someone kinder and more accommodating. Someone with a heart. He had the cheek to say that if I had called at 10 am that morning he might have helped me. Well you know I had tried to get an appointment 10 days previously, but clearly that didn't count for anything. Gosh, the man was horrid. Eventually on sunday, I found out by further online searching that Oslo kommune runs an emergency dental practise in the city. Shame heartless endodontist guy didn't think to tell me this the day before. We all traipsed in and I was treated by the kindest female dentist in the world. At least that's how she seemed at the time. It's not everyday you're begging someone to cut into your gum to release the pressure of an abscess, is it?
Anyway, the penicillin has kicked in, my swollen chin is less swollen, the gauze that got stuck in the wound has just been yanked out by the dentist - yes that's more dentist trips in the last fortnight than in the past ten years all together - and I am almost able to chew food again.
I spent all monday morning, ringing up endodontists, speaking Norwegian with a lisp, trying to get an appointment to sort out the root canal before easter. I don't want to get stuck on a spanish island in agony, begging the local butcher to yank out my front tooth out of desperation to get rid of the pain. But it seems, if one needs specialist dental treatment in the Oslo area, one must predict one's pain weeks in advance.
At least by time I get to see the endodontist on April 13, spring really will have arrived. Won't it?

Happy St Patrick's Day

It's St Patrick's Day which, when you are living in Norway, is very much the same as any other day. Except you send the kids to school with badges on that say stuff like 'The World's Cutest Leprechaun' and wearing t-shirts with 'Irish Princess' printed across their chests. My youngest leprechaun is home sick, feeding his kids' television addiction, while Mummy erm works in her pyjamas and procrastinates on shoving the vacuum cleaner around the place.
Tonight though I will cast such domesticity aside, transfer the children and car seats to my husband at the school once Brownies and the piano lesson are done, and head off in my glad rags - something other than jeans and skipants that is - to fraternize with other members of the Irish diaspora at the Irish ambassador's residence.
Oh it's a glamourous life, to be sure, to be sure. Somehow I do not see diplomatic shindigs in my crystal ball for St Patrick's Day 2011. But then again by the end of today that could have changed too, as the ongoing saga of 'where the feck are we moving to' continues.

What's Another Year?

I'm thinking of starting a Johnny Logan Appreciation Society. OK, I'm not going to go that far but I do think the man is unfairly slagged off in general. It's not cool to like Johnny Logan, especially in Ireland. It's certainly easy to slag him off. (Just search his name on Twitter and you'll see what I mean). A week ago, I wasn't particularly interested in him either. But he's popular in Norway, and other parts of Europe, where he sells lots of CDs and performs often. And so he was invited to be the Grand Marshall at this year's Oslo St Patrick's Day Parade. He lead the parade and then afterwards, on Karl Johan, sang three songs, the first being his first Eurovision winner from 1980, 'What's Another Year.' He was fantastic. His voice is amazing. With so many mediocre performers out there making big bucks (Kylie? Cheryl Cole?), it was a real treat to hear someone who could sing brilliantly live, only accompanied by a guitar. Not only did he sing well, he came across as lovely, quite frankly. I spoke to him afterwards and he told me his mother was from Kilkenny. He also said he had a great fondness for Norway as he had spent several months working here after his father died many years back. He was gracious, genial and patient with the stream of children and their mothers who approached him after the parade.
I feel bad that I didn't have a higher opinion of the man before as I really am too old to care about what's considered cool or not cool.
I'm at an age now where along with empathy, hard work and good manners, I respect talent above much else. I'm not a fan of ballads, but I do love a great voice. Johnny Logan really has a great voice.

Have a listen:

Oslo St Patrick's Day Parade 2010

For anyone interested in watching the Irish of Oslo march through Oslo City Centre in all shades of green, here are the details of today's event which starts at 13.00 at Jernbanetorget.
The sun is shining, which takes slightly from the authenticity of the occasion. REAL St Patrick's Days parades are characterized by rain and freezing Irish dancers; in Oslo we'll just have to make do with the latter.

Eurovision 2010

Two Irish former Eurovision Song Contest Winner's are on their way to Oslo. First off will be Johnny Logan, two-times recipient of the prize. He won for the first time 30 years ago. I remember the night very vividly considering I was only two years old at the time. Ahem. Back then, winning the Eurovision was a very large issue of national pride in Ireland. I don't know how things stand these days. Clearly back in 2008, pride wasn't a factor of any sort in choosing an act to represent the emerald isle. Oh you'd forgotten Dustin had you? Well I haven't. Here's a flashback to that nightmare.
So back to Johnny. Johnny Logan is still very popular with Norwegian audiences apparently and is coming over to act as Grand Marshall for the Oslo St Patrick's Day Parade next saturday. Details here. I wish the last 30 years had been as kind to my face as they seem to have been to Johnny's.

The second Eurovision laureate booking flights to Oslo is Niamh Kavanagh. She won back in 1993 and is Ireland's 2010 entry for the competition. Here's a clip of Niamh singing the song 'It's For You.'

Spring Fever

I think I might have spring fever. I have this incredible urge to cast off my wool underwear in favour of more normal attire. I find myself looking at normal coats and jackets and thinking maybe - next week - if the daytime temperature stays hovering around plus one. This morning I looked at my children's grubby snow suits and said, 'Oh just think, in four weeks time, you won't ever have to wear these things again!.' Well it'll be Easter then and we don't expect to need snow attire in mid-April. I do say such things with caution as you never know. Still. Spring is coming - squeals with delight.

We still don't know where we're moving to, but right now there are two very strong possibilities, neither of which would require snow suits. We're still knee deep in snow here. But the mornings are brightening - to the extent that my three-old woke me this morning at 0630 to tell me to get up because it was daytime. With this line of reasoning, it will be totally pointless going to bed at all by mid-June. I've been here before with my first-born. I know its a three-year-old thing. It'll pass. In another few years, I'll have to dig him out of the bed by shining a torch in his face.

My husband has spring fever too. He went cross-country skiing this morning at 0530 in the dark with a torch strapped to his head like a miner. It was -10. I think it's safe to say that no one saw him looking so ridiculous. Except the three moose he came across. They must have had a great laugh telling their mom what they saw when they went looking for breakfast - a tall, thin man with a light strapped to his skull, long narrow boards on his feet and a manic look in his eye. A man with spring fever.

Someone's Ready for Spring

My son spent 45 minutes this morning trying to ride a bike in the snow. It's possibly marginally easier than cycling on the gravel that lies beneath. It was only 8 AM but Spring light is in the air if not Spring weather.

I was impressed by his perseverance. Shame he doesn't have the same attitude when it comes to toilet training. In that case it's alway 'tomorrow' or worse, 'When I'm five, mommy.'