All work and all play means no blogging

I had intended to post some shots of Roskilde, but then got sidetracked by going away parties and drinks and the family in town, and it all went downhill from there. The days have been a blur of good wine and even better food. In a few days, I leave for two weeks kayaking in Greece.

It's a tough existence, mine.

Updates, photos and various other things when I return in August.

Fyn, Jutland and the start of Danish classes. Oh what a few weeks it's been.

Summer has come and life has gotten busy. You know how it goes. Over the recent months I have visited the Danish island of Fyn, went to a 40th birthday party in Jutland where almost no one spoke English, tromped around ruins, trespassed in an abandoned factory and managed to not get thrown off the back of an Italian racing bike. Not to mention the start of Danish classes, the typical summer Friday bars and other agency booze-ups and the general time demands of a career in advertising.

In short, I've been a tad busy.


Things I have noticed in this time:

The Danes do not seem to have any clams. Mussels, yes. Lobster, yes. Clams, no.
(Of course, this means that I have been having clam cravings something fierce.)

The closer you get to the sea in Denmark, the less seafood you seem to be able to order.

No matter how insistent people are about speaking Danish to you and how intensely you try to listen, you are not going to understand them.

You are never too old to get a chuckle out of a sign that says "fart kontrol"

French ice cream is way better than Danish ice cream.

the riot party that wasn't

Last Saturday was the year anniversary of the storming of the anarchist house. We were warned that there were going to be major riots, complete with molotov cocktails, ripping up pavements and burning cars everywhere.

As these usually end up happening outside the window of my apartment, and, as I was moving the next day, we decided to do what any self-respecting people would do in a similar situation. Throw a riot watching party, of course.

T-shirts and logos were designed. Signature drinks created and food laid in against a possible forced overnighter. With the theme being rum riot and Ben, my art director partner, chipping in a top-of-the-line rum left over from his stint at an agency in Puerto Rico, we were as prepared as we could be.

Dinner was lovely, the variation on mojitos were tasty and the company was excellent. In the end, there was only one catch. No riots. Not even the normal Saturday night drunks randomly singing in the street. (My guess was this was due the particularly nasty gale-force winds that night.)

In fact, the closest thing to a ruckus was when a few of the guys took a bunch of broken up door frames left for the rubbish collectors and broke them up to feed the fireplace. The one time I was actually looking forward to the anarchists coming through and they completely failed to show. Ah well.

In other news, I have now moved into the new place. Sadly, everything I own is still haphazardly strewn about due to a rather crazy work schedule last week, but I've already gotten used to the blissful quiet. No demonstrators or drunks here on the unfashionable side of Norrebro.

I'm off to Norway skiing this weekend. L.A. already seems a lifetime ago. So many missed stories, but work has been hogging all my words lately and there's been precious little time for much else. Hopefully that is changing now, and I'll be able to resume my aimless rambling for those of you that actually enjoy that sort of thing.