Brian Whatisname

'Økonomistudenter med eurotegn i øynene flokker seg rundt den irske statsminister Brian Owen. Ifølge statsministeren dreier morgendagens folkeavstemning om EU-traktaten seg om ja eller nei til det irske økonomiske mirakel.' Photo and text courtesy of Aftenposten.

What’s the name of the Irish Taoiseach (Prime Minister to the none-gaeilgoiri among you)? He's the one with the double chin, the lop-sided grin, and the flag sticking out of his head in the photo above.

Well anyone reading Norway’s paper-of-record, Aftenposten, today will think his name is Brian Owen. Again, for the non-Irish among ye, the Taoiseach’s name is Brian Cowen, which I mightn’t necessarily expect my South African readers to know but I do expect journalists paid to convey facts to the paper-buying public in any country to check for accuracy. I know he hasn’t been in the job long, but couldn’t Aftenposten’s journalists have done a quick Google check before filing their copy? Does Aftenposten not employ sub-editors? And before anyone shouts 'typo' at their screen, let me point out that throughout the article on the Lisbon Treaty, on which Ireland is holding a referendum tomorrow, Brian Cowen is called Brian Owen.

The standards of journalism in Norway are low, low, low and most days I think, 'if I could only master Norwegian well enough', I'd have a dazzling career. Except of course, my main source of Norwegian over the past three and a half years has been Aftenposten. Sigh!

I'm sure if Brian had a daughter selling bucket-loads of crap novels - as did his predecessor Bertie Ahern, daddy of Cecilia - this would never happen (even in Norway).

A dry weekend - in more ways than one

It's a bank holiday weekend and the weather is fabulous. However, there's a problem with long weekends here: the shops shut at 4 PM on Saturday not to re-open until Tuesday morning. This means planning food and drink shopping in advance; there's no such thing as a last-minute dash to a 24-hour Tesco for ketchup, chicken, milk or nappies. There's no nice convenience store open either; that would simply be too, well, convenient and 21st century.
So today we braved the supermarket to stock up on grill food and essentials. Supermarkets here are prohibited from selling wine and spirits, even to self-determined adults over 30, but they do sell over-priced beer to anyone over 18. I plucked a six-pack of Tuborg from the shelf, imagining myself a few hours later sipping it, or at least 1/6 th of it, on the terrace as the sun sank behind the trees.
I'm not on the terrace now obviously - the glare and my laptop don't complement each other -and I didn't get to buy any beer either. I was told at the checkout that beer sales finished at 3 PM so I couldn't have any at 3.21 PM. I've been in Norway long enough not to be surprised at this - I bit my tongue and resisted the urge to say what I was thinking - but REALLY what is the point of this? Am I not old enough to decide for myself if I am allowed to have a saturday afternoon beer, or not? Is there any logical or operational reason for forbidding a cashier to pass six beverage bottles through the checkout within an hour of shop closing time? It's just plain ridiculous and I defy anyone to convince me otherwise.