“The Saxon is not like us Normans. His manners are not so polite.
But he never means anything serious till he talks about justice and right.
When he stands like an ox in the furrow – with his sullen set eyes on your own,
And grumbles, ‘This isn’t fair dealing’, my son, leave the Saxon alone.

“You can horsewhip your Gascony archers, or torture your Picardy spears;
But don’t try that game on the Saxon; you’ll have the whole brood round your ears.
From the richest old Thane in the county to the poorest chained serf in the field,
They’ll be at you and on you like hornets, and, if you are wise, you will yield.

“But first you must master their language, their dialect, proverbs and songs.
Don’t trust any clerk to interpret when they come with the tale of their wrongs.
Let them know that you know what they’re saying; let them feel that you know what to say.
Yes, even when you want to go hunting, hear ‘em out if it takes you all day.

They’ll drink every hour of the daylight and poach every hour of the dark.
It’s the sport not the rabbits they’re after (we’ve plenty of game in the park).
Don’t hang them or cut off their fingers. That’s wasteful as well as unkind,
For a hard-bitten, South-country poacher makes the best man- at-arms you can find.

“Appear with your wife and the children at their weddings and funerals and feasts.
Be polite but not friendly to Bishops; be good to all poor parish priests.
Say ‘we,’ ‘us’ and ‘ours’ when you’re talking, instead of ‘you fellows’ and ‘I.’
Don’t ride over seeds; keep your temper; and never you tell ‘em a lie!”

I was nine when it happened. I’d known Tracy as a loving young woman who was always ready to play and take care of me when I was a child, but who was always a little sad and distant towards the end of her life. The pain that eventually resulted in her death was something I simply couldn’t understand at that age, bu there have been times recently when I’ve been able to finally appreciate what drove her to that point.

She was 19 when she died. For the previous few years she had battled with Anorexia Nervosa, perhaps brought on by the stress of knowing her parents no longer loved each other, though that might be just speculation. Shortly before she died she came to stay with my family for a few days, and for a moment she seemed like she was starting to get better. Then she suddenly decided to go home again. Days later she took a dose of pain killers that wouldn’t have been even remotely fatal for a healthy woman her age, but was fatal for her because of how damaged her organs were, and how little mass her body had. It was a cry for help.

She was the closest I ever had to a sister.

I’d forgotten until a week ago that this was the 20th year since her death, some time in October I believe. I had been suffering increasingly powerful bouts of depression the last few months that I had initially attributed to my financial situation, but which I now realise were a reaction to the anniversary. My aunt – Tracy’s mother – has said that recently she has been overwhelmed by a desire to talk to Tracy, even though she knows she’s been gone for so long. I realise I too have been feeling something similar all year. A sense of loss that I could never properly place or identify, a feeliung of desire to communicate, though with whom and what about I had no idea.

Music would provoke emotional reactions when normally it would just be a little entertaining. Scenes in films where characters are reunited with their loved ones, or where the narrative described characters surviving profound and testing events, would bring me to tears when normally I would be unmoved.

I miss her.

“…It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonoured by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice; ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government; ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money.

“Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess? Ye have no more religion than my horse; gold is your God; which of you have not barter’d your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth?

“Ye sordid prostitutes, have you not defil’d this sacred place, and turn’d the Lord’s temple into a den of thieves by your immoral principles and wicked practices? Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation; you were deputed here by the people to get grievances redress’d; your country therefore calls upon me to cleanse the Augean Stable, by putting a final period to your iniquitous proceedings, and which by God’s help and the strength He has given me, I now come to do.

“I command ye, therefore, upon the peril of your lives, to depart immediately out of this place! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors. You have sat here too long for the good you do. In the name of God, go!”

I’d show pictures but every time I go to take one the wind dies.

Gits.

Anyway, the scaffold will be coming down at the end of the month. I’ll put up some pics when that happens. We’re just waiting for the electrics and the gas to be installed, and the building to be cleaned. Then it’ll be sale time… jus tin time for the little price bump that seems to be coming along. Whee!

In Sweden, it seems to be the reverse. Alcohol can only be purchased from government owned shops and a few licensed premises. Fireworks can be bought anywhere. They have jumping jacks. Jumping jacks! They’ve been illegal in the UK for decades.

There are cultural problems in the UK that have grown over the last few years, of a generally lax attitude toward the education of children in a broad spectrum of behaviour, resulting in a generation or two who are incapable of moderating themselves. They don’t seem to have that problem here in Sweden so much.

When it comes to fireworks, I do tend to believe it’s better that kids should learn the dangers with tiny little ones – like jumping jacks and firecrackers, which will sting and burn without maiming – rather than waiting until they’re 18 and blowing their heads off with a 500 shot roman candle or something equally nasty. If they learn with the little ones they’ll be more wary…

But it requires education as well. English education is hopeless and has been for some time if it’s producing the sort of people who can’t understand these basic principles. That’s why our kids turn their heads to mush with alcohol. For the sake of the children…

End ramble.

So, now I’m back, and it’s to tell you that I’m off again! To Sweden, as a matter of fact, where I’ll be spending christmas and the new year, eating great quantities of pork, drinking julmust and glögg and generally not giving a damn about the world.

Though, that said, I may make a little mischief while I’m there. Lars Vilks, famous for his many “cartoons” of mohammed rondellhunden, had an exhibition cancelled at an art museum or something similar in Kalmar and, since I’ll be there…

Well, lets see what happens. I don’t want to make too many waves because I’m quite looking forward to this christmas, and getting thrown out of the country for being a “nazi” or something would put a real damper on the whole thing. Though, who knows, perhaps a foreigner raising the question will spark something off? Worth a try.

Bye for now.

Fun eh? I had a wander around inside it after the builders had gone home. It’s huge. Far bigger than the flats next door seem to be.

People look at it and can’t quite figure out what’s going on. They see these two bits of building and say things like “Oh is that the kitchens?” or “These flats look very narrow…”. Once the first flat is up they’ll probably have it sussed. It’s going to be a very unique building.

Fun little thing: Phil, our next door neighbour, made an interesting proposition recently. He’s been very dubious about the new build becaue it’s cutting light to his garden – a concern, to be sure. For a while we weren’t talking. Anyway, he’s over that now, thank god, and he came to us with an idea. We buy him out. The idea raises some interesting prospects which we’re researching now – if we get planning permission, we could build up the portion of building he’s in to level with the rest of the house and extend the flats to get another, what four out of it, plus the three big ones we’re planning in the main building. It will be a very unique property for sure, and it’ll fit, unlike the flats across the canal. Monstrosities they are… absolute monstrosities. All that matters is whether we can provide parking for all these extra flats. It might be possible depending on how we arrange the spaces.

It’s a ncie counterpoint to all the crap the world is throwing around. At least our bit is going to be quite nice for a while.

Photographs to come shortly.