Tuesday, December 30, 2008

excerpt from my diary

"What I like about weddings is that nobody is in a hurry; you eat & laugh & applaud each other & sometimes ignore the program in order to chat to someone & eat some more & send an sms to somebody you wish were there & take pictures of people & sit all by yourself and ponder life for a while & drink some coffee & all of a sudden 8 hours have passed... and then it's time to dance!"

Said by someone who doesn't hate weddings as much as she claims to.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

in need of tuning

dissonance screeches through my life as notes of evil
I shake my head to clear it
but have to keep playing, keep playing
to reach that endnote of beauty

forgive me, I'm off key again

Thursday, December 04, 2008

i am a fake Irish


Just realised that I spelled "whisky" the Scottish and not the Irish way in my last post. Shame on me. Nothing against Scotland, but I harbour a secret desire to be Irish.

Found a book about Ireland in a flea market today, published in 1957. I will probably read it eventually, but right now I just enjoy looking at the old pictures. Pictures of an Ireland that I never knew. Yet so familiar.

But I'm trying to survive Finland. This time of the year it is so dark and wet and miserable. An excuse to wear fake fur and bright colours, and to light candles and spend evenings on the sofa eating chocolates while I dream of hot whiskey by a smoky fire somewhere in the Irish mountains.

Monday, December 01, 2008

we work while God is playing pool

December 1st. A good day for arriving late at work, a Monday morning, and still find that even busy Christmas shoppers can make you smile. That searching for hard-to-find books and struggling with a credit card machine and talking to someone I used to laugh at 8 years ago is just what I needed today.

All is not lost, as I thought yesterday. Then, I decided that I am a hopeless case and that God is off drinking whisky and playing pool in a bar somewhere where women are not welcome.

Sunday, November 09, 2008

babylon has its beauty too

Someone defined the deepest desires of my female soul today and I felt suddenly understood. My every cell sparkles with joy. I have a direction.

Beauty is not just a subjective point of view. Beauty is real, essential to life and available. As I have a right to exist as I am.

And: I can listen to a sermon whenever I feel the need to. And: it's been too long since I watched Babylon 5.

Monday, November 03, 2008

kiss and drive


"Kiss and drive" says the signposts marking the drop-off point outside Brussels airport. Stern policemen make sure that no car stops for longer than the time it takes to kiss your loved ones goodbye and unload your luggage.

I visited Brussels, the capital of Europe, with almost no knowledge about it beforehand. I saw the vast buildings that house the enormous, complicated administrative machinery of the European Union that is moved every once in a while to another city just to keep everyone (except us ordinary taxpayers) happy. But I also saw a lot of charming neighbourhoods and ate some excellent mussels with a glass of white beer.

In the city centre I also came across another sign that seemed to indicate a place where your dog can go when he needs to. Right there, on the pavement at a street corner. They are strange, these Belgians.

Thursday, October 09, 2008

angels we have heard on a high



My colleague, the motherly old lady who brings homemade apple pie for the coffee breaks, looked through a supplier catalogue with me. We were discussing which angels to buy.

"The little chubby ones are a sure bet."
The chubby ones were more than just chubby, they were more or less completely round in shape, and weighed down with golden glitter. "They just walk off the shelves!" my colleague insisted and I nodded. Obviously, they couldn't possibly fly with all that extra weight. I hope they don't have to guard anyone.

"On the other hand, the weird modern ones are in fashion."
The weird modern ones are the ones with haloes askew, arms attached at odd angles and slightly crazed smiles, as if the twenty-first century is slowly driving them around some cosmic bend. They usually also have to carry around a giant heart or a string of stars made of barbed wire.

They all sit there on the shelf by the window among the scented candles, smiling crazily. Possibly the artificial cinnamon and lemon scents are going to their heads. Stoned angels. Sometimes I wish they would not all sit there looking at me.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

russian wisdom: let it amaze you

"So long as man remains free he strives for nothing so incessantly and so painfully as to find some one to worship." Said Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Dostoevsky, whom I have not yet managed to read except in the form of WikiQuote, has also apparently said something along the lines of: "You have to love life more than its meaning."

Which I interpret as: don't wear yourself out trying to rationalize a meaning out of everything, because it's impossible anyway. Just live life as it is and let it amaze you.

So I try, out of a ditch of weariness and worry. There is actually something there: a song about snakeskin boots picked me up today, together with a large mug of spiced coffee. Maybe I'll even find someone to worship today.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

on wild apples

A colleague at the Little Shop of Harmony who obviously feels I eat way too many biscuits at coffee break gave me a bag full of apples from her own apple trees.

I eyed them suspiciously because I buy my apples (and biscuits) at the supermarket. Supermarket apples are always perfectly round, even-coloured, flawless and come in little plastic bags looking almost clinically sterile. Actually, they look a bit like the biscuits except for the chocolate topping but don't taste as good. These apples were bruised, slightly overripe and with worrying little holes in them. When I opened the bag, a little fly flew out in a hurry.

Then I forgot everything else, even my horror of worms (not easily forgotten). Oh the fragrance! A smell not of supermarket plastic but of apples! Of autumn, dewy grass, woodsmoke, soil, berries, childhood, happiness, life.

They even taste good. I haven't found a worm yet.

Sunday, September 07, 2008

mind games on the beach

Silvery balls land in cool sand on the beach. I enjoy the golden sunset over the still September sea but the game bores me. I feel myself drifting away from my friends' laughter.

I think:
this is autumn, at its loveliest
soon enough be cold enough for wool and fake fur
this little city by the sea, how lucky I am
could I love loud children who shriek like that
how many of my friends fancy that handsome man over there
why do I drift like this
someone please hold on to me
I'm probably just hungry
melted cheese sandwich with olives

Saturday, September 06, 2008

my life with a metaphysical twist

September, and I have more friends than I ever deserve and will I do them justice?

I worry too much. I believe in God and still don't believe what he says. I trust him less than I do myself.

Two upcoming trips abroad, one that I will cherish and another that I dread a little.

I will go out and explore my own neighbourhood. The thirst for life keeps growing.

I am stuck in my fears and can never change. And yet, the force that I gave my life to is inside me and is stronger than the force of this world.

And please God, may people never stop buying books.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

the trade was good today

You gave me an orange, I gave you coffee. You gave me an account of hospital life, I gave you a beach walk. You gave me a meaning for today's life, I gave you a sympathetic ear.

You left while singing I'm trading my sorrow, I'm trading my shame... I was left with a feeling of peace and joy.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

random and August observations

* ABBA's music is silly and I wouldn't listen to it voluntarily. And when I'm forced to, I can't help but love it.
* I have a wrapped present and no-one to give it to.
* When we are old, my friend and I will climb a tree (like this) and drink Australian Shiraz and laugh at life's troubles.
* When I want to be left alone, I must remember to dress entirely in black. And I look good in black too.
* Making someone happy doesn't mean compromising your integrity - do it some other way.
* Pointless nostalgic, that's me.
* Books I'm reading at the moment talk about: shame; living life slowly; freakonomics; the Order of the Phoenix; death; death again.
* Story I want to write: The tale of a thousand lighthouses.
* Stuff I want to google but never get around to: the songs of Nordman and Thoby Loth; lyrics of Don't You Love Me No More; English words I should know; the plot of novels I've read and forgot; video clips of people I admire; blue IKEA furniture; guesthouses in Brussels; how to change the language setting of my blog spellcheck; the song I once sang in a storm about I'm alive, take a breath; the wanna-be Olympic athlete who once sat on me and tried to gouge my eyes out - did she make it to Beijing this year?
* Website I want to come across accidentally while googling the above: blog of long-lost love of my life.

(Picture by Inge Löök)

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

softness in the air around me


Back to the desk although it's not as beautifully located as this one (which is my summer desk).

Sometimes I'm glad I'm getting older. New tasks, new responsibilities and new people are no longer as frightening as they once were. Not only because I'm better at believing in myself. But also because I've realised I don't always have to take everything so bloody seriously.

And I have new shoes which make me walk on clouds, and a new pair of velvety trousers which make me believe the world is oddly soft and comforting after all.

Monday, August 11, 2008

black hole found

"Make your choice, adventurous Stranger;
Strike the bell and bide the danger,
Or wonder, till it drives you mad,
What would have followed if you had."
(C.S.Lewis)

I trespassed today. It was meant to be. I cycled to the end of a lonely road, past a rooster and three fishermen, and found myself by a fence surrounding an old abandoned factory. Conveniently, there was a hole in the fence.

There were huge buildings on the factory premises. Now, extremely large and weird constructions, like towers, radio masts and silos, that sit in the middle of nowhere, are spooky. There are few things that unnerve me as inexplicably as wandering through the woods, for example, and suddenly finding myself at the foot of a tall radio mast that hums eerily and seems completely alien. These strange buildings had the same effect on me. There was something that looked like a brick fortress with unexpected ladders leading up to tower windows that had been broken eons ago. Other constructions like great halls, covered in warnings about explosive substances. Suddenly, about a million birds hanging out on the roof came swooping down and almost freaked me out.

But to prove to them that I wasn't scared, I went closer.

And I found an open door. I took one look inside and backed away. There was one thing only in there - darkness. The kind of darkness that sucks everything into itself and lets nothing back out.

I was lucky to escape. And I succeeded where everyone else has failed. Ladies and gentlemen, I hereby present to you the first picture ever of a black hole.

Friday, August 08, 2008

the place where even bad weather is beautiful


Sun, rest, thunderstorms, playful puppies, good books, bad coffee, family, a fire on chilly nights, swimming in the sea, heat, sparkling water, writing by a candle, fields of gold, eagles, inactivity, wine, fragrance of childhood, home, barefoot in the grass, flying squirrels, wood-heated sauna... and lovely, lovely dreams that took me far beyond space and time.

That's what I call a holiday.

And maybe the best part: coming back to the city with a genuine impatience to restart my life. Not to mention an impatience to finally have a cup of real coffee.

Friday, July 11, 2008

dropping off the radar

What a mercy to be able to sleep all you want. Now all I need is a pile of good books and the wilderness. This girl is going offline for a little while.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

tonight's song

This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow
The wise hands opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow

The promise was, when everything fell, we'd be held


(Natalie Grant: Held)


Sunday, June 29, 2008

jumbled riddles

Iron pills, Sunday blues, looking for love, so many people everywhere, microphone, desperately trying to create a cosmos out of my chaos, I want you to take care of me, pesto on bread, a friend's comfort, other people's dreams, African men in a dodgy car, grow up already, a kind word says more than a thousand pictures, no strength to write anything but lists.

Goodbye, weekend in June. If there is a saint named after me, let's celebrate her today.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

a thousand times a million doors


The first sweetness of summer and my next-door granny fed me coffee so I'm on an overdose of caffeine and my heart is beating fast and there are paper-cuts on my hands from wrapping gifts in the shop and a stain of golden green on my index finger and I met a group of Methodists who didn't know I once caused their bishop great disappointment and I found a bootleg CD among my private collection and I hope nobody comes to put me in prison because I said that and I also found a picture of myself where I actually laugh and there are three such pictures in existence and I just want to be loved and Sting is singing "a thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves like galaxies in my head" and I KNOW -

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

lilacs and the good season

Not much writing being done at the moment. Tiredness is wearing me out. Too many people, too many emotions, too little love. My life is no longer only about survival, which gives me too much time to brood on more metaphysical matters.

Yesterday, I fell asleep crying and woke up laughing. There is hope for me yet.

The lilac is in bloom and the sweet fragrance is reminding me that the loveliest season is here. That life can be good and I should sit up and notice.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

complementing compliment

Dialogue between friends:

Her: Your views on the complexity of the Trinity are profound.
Him: Thank you. You have beautiful arms.

The latter comment brought more joy to the receiver.

Monday, May 26, 2008

spinning into summer

I need to put my books aside for a while. I need to stop admiring my heroes for their strength and bravery and instead develop my own.

I need to spend more time in the sun. I need to carefully consider my priorities. I need to stop worrying and allow myself to live.

Work and people and escaping reality take all my time and energy. I'm spinning at the moment. Struggling to find my central balance.

And I fear the summer. But I will live, one hour at a time.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Crete concluded



It is easy to stare yourself tired at ancient urns in Crete. Afterwards it is nice to rest your weary ass in an equally ancient olive grove.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

to Kydonia with love

I aim for the sun, and for sand in my sandals, and for the fragrance of foreign flowers. I will march to the beat of a different drum. I will bring my very own Greek god home with me. See you all when I return from my Odyssey.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

a Thank You day

You smiled and stopped by just to tell me you haven't forgot. Today, that was all I needed. Thank you.

My foot is better and the weekend went by in a happy haze of sun, books, chocolate, wine, the inspiration of a fantastic friend. I feel creative.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

the landing is never easy



Jumping, in volleyball, is really flying. At least when you put your heart and every little one of your muscles into it and forget about everything except hitting that ball. Feels like being up there in the air forever.

And then you land on your team mate's foot and you try not to land at all but inevitably feel your ankle twist. And hurt.

Happened to me yesterday, and now I hobble around with a cane as my new best friend. But people are giving me sympathy and chocolates and I get to lie on the couch and read books.

Monday, April 14, 2008

the risks of life and Thai soup

Snow and hot springtime sun.
I have received some information that I really didn't need or want, and other information that made me giggle like a maniac.
Sunday lunch at a hotel.
A new friend.
Dipped my purse in Thai soup.
A highly distressing disagreement in the family that almost made me run screaming out of the room and never return.
I have realised that there are some things your near and dear ones will never understand or accept about you.
And that you can never fully trust anyone, not even those you really, really want to be perfect and never let you down.

But that's OK. As long as I know. And as long as I still have hope and dare to try. Yes, it is a cliché but it is true: loving is worth the risk.

PS: I ate the Thai soup after dipping my purse in it. It was still tasty and my purse only smells a little of lemon grass.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

to see a world in a cup of tea

Day two: A walk in town among Saturday shoppers, many familiar faces around.

Registered for a lottery where you can win travel tickets but ruined my chances with a sarcastic comment on the registration sheet. The sun was shining. The city always wears me out - all these people who seem to either be happier than you or need something from you.

But ran into an angel whom I invited for tea and chat to my place this evening. Thus I managed to avoid another Saturday evening alone. Inspired, I sent a text message to another lonely person and invited her too. We invisible people can at least have each other to look at.

The rest of the afternoon, curled up with a blanket in the sunshine on the balcony, reading about the olives, sheep cheese and thyme honey of Crete. Surprisingly peaceful mood. The visit to the Chinese restaurant on my way home from town might have accomplished that - I ordered some spring rolls for take-out and the little Chinese matron placed a steaming cup of green tea in front of me while I waited. The fragrance of the tea, the very un-Finnish red-and-gold wallpaper of the restaurant, and the murmured conversations of the few lunch guests briefly brought me to another world.

Sometimes that's all I need for happiness.

Friday, April 11, 2008

boring notes

Having a few weeks off from the shop, for "administrative" reasons. Suits me, since I'm exhausted.

Curious to see how I will cope with all this leisure time. From this perspective, day one, it seems like paradise, complete with books to read and coffee to drink. But I won't let myself be fooled - I know what the combination of too high expectations, a slight depression and an inability to wind down can do to me. I can already see signs, like the obsessive cleaning I did yesterday... definitely NOT my style.

So for some vague reason I decided to take notes and make a careful study.

Day One: Good so far. Slept in, big breakfast and lots of coffee. Watched a film (United 93. Cried). Some light-weight work at the computer so I can feel good about myself. Swore at the printer. Counted my money. Realised it's time to do the tax return and broke out in a cold sweat. By now it's late afternoon and I'm hungry and trying to fight the slight suspicion that the whole world is out to get me.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

my habits contradict me

Wonder how many skewed images of myself I carry around in my head?

I think of myself as shy, reserved, even a bit anti-social at times. Somewhat lonely, not the type who surrounds herself with friends. But someone asked me how many new friends I have made during the last six months (which were pretty average months in my life) - and by friends meaning people I make an effort to meet up with again, or at least people I let through my carefully guarded mental barriers somehow. People who are not yet my close friends, but who I know share my desire to get to know each other better. And I am by no means the kind of person who tries, or even wants, to "make the whole world my friend".

I counted at least ten. That's nearly one a fortnight. Not bad for an anti-social loner.

The wise person I quoted a couple of blog entries back has also said that character is the sum of your habits. For example, you can't claim to be a kind person if you don't have the habit of being kind to others. Conversely, I suppose, I can't call myself anti-social anymore since it's clearly, by empirical evidence, not my habit to be anti-social.

This conclusion annoys me. Now I have to look at other habits and try to face the truth in what they tell me.

Friday, March 28, 2008

mix this

The sun in my eyes, dust in my lungs, snow on my boots. A desert storm, a blizzard, hot sunshine. Despair, hope, fresh thoughts, love. Welcome, spring of 2008.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

party mood(iness)


On my way to a friend's wedding. I hate weddings. I hate all parties.

I'm the kind of person who, in the middle of getting dressed and putting on make-up, curls up in a corner and cries until the mascara is all over her face. Who suddenly hates her new dress and wishes fervently for a pair of worn jeans. Who swears under her breath all the way to the party and is tempted to just sneak into a pub on the way and hide until it's all over.

Once I get to the party, I can usually enjoy it. Or if not, at least sneer at it.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

a thought born out of a whimper

Someone wise pointed out to me that there are things that distract people from living the life they were intended for, things that drive them around the same circle constantly. Wasting their life and missing the meaning of life. Guilt is one of these, fear another.

And craving for acceptance/approval/love. Now that's my poison. The need that sometimes makes me - an adult, independent woman - curl up in a corner and whimper, paralyzed.

The power of love is tremendous. Unfortunately also in the negative - if it has been denied you, it can ruin your life.

Monday, March 10, 2008

longjohns and heartbreak

An old lady comes to the shop with a donation of clothes to the second-hand store in the basement. She hands me a plastic bag full of what is apparently an old man's underwear, mostly long woollen underpants. Worn, but carefully washed, ironed and folded. She anxiously explains the trouble she has taken to ensure they are proper and clean, because she is sure someone could get a lot of use out of them still. As most of her generation, she has probably had to spend her life trying to make every penny last and nothing go to waste.

Not so in my own generation. I open my mouth hesitantly to say that we don't really take in underwear, especially not so worn, as nobody really buys them second-hand anyway. She adds, hastily, with what looks like tears in her eyes:

"They belonged to my late husband, you see. He passed away last month. These are good underwear. Do you think somebody could use them still?"

I stop the intended words from leaving my mouth. Instead, I thank her gently and take the bag from her. I can always send them with the next charity lorry going to the poorer parts of Russia.

It's the only thing I can do for her. I think I'm going to cry.

Sunday, March 09, 2008

through life with wet feet

Wet feet after a walk home in terrible weather. Is there anything more demoralizing that wet feet? Maybe the knowledge that people love you and you desperately need that love and you are unable to accept it?

And yet, there is always dry socks waiting for you when you get home. And there is always somebody who will look at you with kindness and suddenly there is a warmth spreading through your heart... and your feet.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

my nose and my heart still work

A man in our shop asked me to kiss him. His smell was so rancid that I almost vomited at the mere idea. He has a very polite way of telling me he loves me but it doesn't really help.

Another man comes in now and then. My boss giggles and gives me a meaningful look every time. I guess my face lights up.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

bizarre urges an ordinary Wednesday

A cigarette and an Australian man. I ask no more.

Friday, February 15, 2008

the materialistic part of my existence

4 cardigans
2 shirts
4 pairs of trousers
5 short-sleeved tops
1 crocheted shawl
1 suede jacket
2 winter coats
4 skirts
1 dress
1 belt
books, table cloths, candles, shampoos, miscellaneous

I used to buy on average 3 pieces of clothing a year. The above is the sum of the last three months only - the time I've been working in the Little Shop of Harmony, with its second-hand store in the basement. The total sum of the above is only half of what I paid for my last pair of new jeans.

Now I buy stuff for a fraction of what it's worth, save the world's resources and support charity work, all while delighting in new (for me at least) clothes. Go fleamarkets!

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

blasphemer's scribble

Wrote down my blasphemous thoughts and then deleted them all. Not because I was afraid to express them but -

I will not publish this entry.

mad Yorkshire

Losing myself in a book, The Thirteenth Tale (Diane Setterfield). Finally, a book that takes you with it. And I realise I really should go to Yorkshire sometime, in real life. Seems to be all Bronte-land (not that I ever really liked the Brontes), windswept moors and brooding skies, frowning men and apron-clad housekeepers. People and manors equally gothic and at least one aristocratic family is haunted by madness. Perhaps Yorkshire doesn't exist outside of literature? I must find out.

When I'm not reading, I'm wondering where my life is headed. Are there more adventures or is the rest all disappointment?

Saturday, February 02, 2008

post-it note for February

To stand up and be weird.
To dive, out of curiosity and boldness, into the depths that others shun on principle.
To let a yes be yes and a no be no.
To lift my eyes to the sky and laugh.
To throw, violently, off my shoulders all worries for what others may or may not think.
To love the icy winter rain.

To be me.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

2007: the year of heartburn and nude modelling

At the turn of the year, one should always take a look at the year that has just passed. Because in seeing the whole picture, the painful days and the happy days come together and make sense in a way that couldn't be understood in the short perspective. Sometimes. Hopefully. Maybe not. But anyway... Year 2007: * did a magical tour of the land of my dreams, Ireland, the country that never fails to break my heart and heal it at the same time. Was awarded the honorable title of "Best Legs in Europe" by my friends in the Irish Drink 'Til You Die (And Hopefully Afterwards Too) Club. * survived the month of murder, March, with a smaller margin than ever before. But having survived this, I can survive anything. * learnt that unconditional love by something as small as a puppy can melt even a glacial heart. Even while doing pee-runs at seven in the morning. * spent two weeks in an idyllic village where I read up on alcohol legislation while feeding cats and contemplating the advantages of an urban lifestyle. * proved to the world that I know what a clostridium perfringens can do to you. In theory, at least. Nasty stuff. * worked at Heartburn Hotel where I smiled, deep-fried, fell in love with backpackers, served beer to macho men, got chatted up by someone who liked to call me Grandma (definitely not a turn-on!), defended the honour of the hotel against disrespectful holiday-makers, walked endless corridors sprinkled by hotel magic, drank coffee at 4 am, laughed at a thief. * was rescued by the police from a would-be burglar. * had a stalker. * went to a wedding and a baptism. * went on a cruise where I tried various weird salads and discovered Sweden is very cold early in the morning. * became an employee in the Little Shop of Harmony and tried to live up to the expectations. Not easy in the pre-Christmas rush. * worked non-stop without a holiday for eleven months. * wanted to go to church, hated church. * modelled (almost) in the nude for a photographer. * was miserable, was happy at times. Was too wired to rest, was afraid to listen to the silence.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

all God's children

The angelic little shop where I spend my days attracts people from all the known parts of space.

Today there were, among others, a Romani (gypsy) family, an African student who asked if I could help to cook for his wedding, a lady with cerebral palsy and bright lipstick, an alcoholic who was convinced he is John Lennon, a man who came to sit in the back office of the shop for hours and draw pictures of UFOs, and two dear old Finnish grandmas who came (separately) to tell me about good old days and deceased husbands, and cry for a while.

I felt a bit like Papa Panov in the old folk tale, who was told Jesus would visit him but who was distracted by all the people who needed him.

Oh the suffering of the world. And the joy, and the magic.

Friday, January 11, 2008

into the future with sinusitis and soufflé

Year 2008 AD started on the Island, snow under my feet and Veuve Clicquot warming my stomach. The man who explains the stars to me wasn't there. But I had friends, cats, a victory in Trivial Pursuit and what more can one ask for than a long solitary drive back home through silent forests and across the magnificent bridge. Rihanna and Lauri Tähkä on the radio.

Later, sneezes and weariness and a cynical attitude. A dentist who praised my brushwork. My admirable father who took me to buy a camera so the sneaky salesmen couldn't make me cry. An adorable puppy who stayed a night in my flat and tried to find a way to kill and eat the newspaper delivery guy through the slot in the door.

I have already seen a good film and a bad film, been given chocolate by an (unwelcome) admirer, bought new (second-hand) clothes, missed the bus and had a fit of completely unreasonable rage, had sinusitis, had raspberry soufflé, held in my hand a splinter of the True Cross (stamped "souvenir from Jerusalem" on the back). Not a bad start to the new year after all. Bring on the rest of it!