Library material for kids

The rain is incessant and deafening, and himself is gone away for the weekend to compete in the Birkebeiner race - the largest mountain bike race in the world about which he has lately been obsessed! So what a great idea then to head to the library, return the overdue books I hadn't got around to reading after two months, and let the girls choose a couple of DVDs to watch tonight and tomorrow night. We got Finding Nemo and Tarzan. But look at what we could have procured from the children's DVD section. Yes, none other than the movie 'Fucking Åmål' which according to the strapline is 'Fucking Great!'. I can't tell you much more about it as to actually pick the item up might have lead to all sorts of questions and dilemmas. It was hard enough to get away with taking photos - 'why are you taking pictures, Mommy?' - you can picture the scene.

This isn't the first time I've come across inappropriate usage of the F-word in combination with a Scandinavian language. My teenage niece, who is Danish, has used it in her status update on Facebook. I'm guess it must be considered cool. But is it?

You know you've been here too long when....

It’s official; I’ve been living in Norway too long (3 years, 7 months and 15 days).
Neither my husband nor I eat cheese but with my new intention to eat less meat, I found myself gazing at the cheese fridge in Smart Club the other day, searching for ricotta to use in vegetarian lasagna.

A complete stranger, standing nearby, a young woman of similar age to me, ahem, asked me what cheese I’d recommend. I wondered if perhaps I’d heard her wrong and that she was a shop employee trying to entice me to buy some fancy new cheese or other, because dear people, complete strangers do not talk to you in Norway (unless they are begging or selling something).

I told her that I didn’t eat cheese, which made me look a bit stupid loitering in front of shelves of the stuff, so added that I needed it for my son, who was sitting in my trolley. She asked how old he was, and marvelled at how big he is for his age. At 18 months, he’s bigger than most two-year olds which is weird given that I’m so small – we look a bit like Laurel & Hardy, the latter in nappies, without the moustaches and cheap suits – I digress.

Basically she made chit-chat, asking where I was from, talking about her sister-in-law who lives in Brighton and who is pregnant, and the sister-in-law’ son who is two and obese, and so on. And all the time, while pleased that I was managing to maintain a conversation in Norwegian – albeit predominantly on the receiving end of it – I was think of my wallet in a bag in my trolley and wondered if this was some sort of rouse to rob me. I mean really, what was this woman’s ulterior motive in talking to me?

But there wasn’t one. She was just being friendly, something that back home happens everyday. Shame on me for being so suspicious.

Thank you again to all who wrote in with helpful tips on sourcing organic meat in Oslo and on vegetarianism. I bought no meat this week, but after two days of a really tasty lentil vegetable stew, my husband was craving a Thai chicken pizza, so I gave in. Still, today we’re having homemade veggie burgers with a few sausages on the side for the carnivores, and I’m definitely going to get around to using that darn ricotta in a lasagna before the vegetables allocated to it crawl out of the fridge. We’re not going to become full-blown veggies but I’m certainly going to make an extra effort to try meat-free dishes several evenings a week. If nothing else, it’ll be easier on my pocket.

Norway's national day

Workplace attire in Norway is very informal unless you work in finance or as an undertaker. On the rare occasion I’ve collected my husband from his office, I’ve seen women wearing clothes I wouldn’t even be seen in running from a burning building. But tomorrow is Norway’s much-celebrated national holiday, when men shake the dust from their ties, and women uncover their national costumes, called Bunads. Some men wear costumes too consisting of peddle-pushers and knee socks which look kind of cute on the under-10s, but slightly ridiculous on anyone older. Still, it is nice to see folk making an effort.
All over the country, schools will march, wave flags and celebrate, children will eat hot dogs and everyone will delight in being Norwegian. My daughters’ schools, being international, celebrated a day earlier in a nod to our hosts whilst not being presumptuous enough to think that it’s our day. I’m sure the staff appreciate having the day off too. Of course my five-year old was quite put-out that she doesn’t get to wear a Bunad and most of her friends, having at least one Norwegian parent, do. Sometimes it can be tough being Irish-Danish.
The weather forecast is for rain and temperatures of 7° C and below which is real shame for all the parents who have to dress themselves and their kids up to be at their school parades early in the morning. The royal family will be busy too, waving from the terrace of the royal palace in Oslo. We braved the crowds three years ago, but now with two pairs of hands to manage a stroller and two flighty girls, it’s not worth the anxiety over losing one of them. So Happy Birthday Norway. We’ll probably not be dressing up for this one, or even raising a flag (we’re the only house in the area without a flag pole which makes this an easy decision) but we’ll sip a beer or two to your continued good health and wealth.
For once I remembered to get the drinks in early.

A Danish-Irish national day celebrant wondering why she can't wear a Bunad like her pals.

Some royal Norwegians on May 17 in their national costumes. Courtesy of Scanpix.