Archive for ‘Writing’

Changes

Changes

Today I spend some time doing research for a short story I started to write. It will take place in the history of the area I live in, Sannäsfjorden in Sweden. I have touched on this in some of my previous blogs so please check them out. The history of this area is quite rich so there is much inspiration to get.

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Before you stop reading. I will not shoot kings and years at you. In school this was the worst part of the history lessons. All the kings, wars and the the years you needed to remember, deep sigh! No it is far more interesting to understand how normal people lived. When I walk around in the area there are many traces. Remains of houses, bridges or stone fences. I think about the men and women living here. Was life hard all the time or were they happy?

After the last ice age ended some 10 000 years ago the land rose slowly from the sea when the pressure from the ice was gone. As the land rose people came by boat and started to live here as the fishing was very good. The many rock carvings at Tanumshede tells us that people lived here for a long time.

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What strikes me is that during the centuries there has been many changes. Periods of prosperity and periods of poverty. For the common people life has usually been hard. Since the Viking era there has been periods where the fishing has been very easy. These periods are called the herring periods. The herring came in enormous amount for twenty or thirty years just to vanish for eighty or hundred years. During the good years many moved here and the small communities grew rapidly.

As the herring period ended people was forced to find other ways to support their families. They moved inland and open up new farmland or tried to catch other kinds of fish. The herring was trapped close to the shore in large trawling like nets called “Vad” (I cannot find an English translation). The fishermen did this in small rowboats. From these entrapment’s the fish was scooped up in boats or sometimes directly to the shore. The fish was salted or boiled down to fish oil, train oil (also called whale oil even if not from whales).

During the last herring period at the end of 1800 there was a demand for the special red Granite stone in the area. The entire Bohuslän is covered with remains of the stone industry and the masonry. Many cities in the world has this stone in buildings and streets. The rock of poorer quality was also used for building roads and canals. The little village Sannäs was at its peak around 1900 with a population of 350 souls as the church book says.

Today there are only 57 full year inhabitants but a few weeks in the summer it reaches almost 300. Many of the houses built during the expansion during 1800 still remains but are now summer houses. Of the many stone industries only one remains.

It is the circle of life. Nature seeks out the best condition to grow. Moves on when conditions change. As in the past people struggle to find a way to earn a living here but with modern communication it has become easier. Many commute to larger cities both in Sweden and in Norway. As the IT infrastructure are improved it is possible to work remotely. During this pandemic many summerhouses have been lit up.

I really struggled with this article as many of the words are local and not easily translated. As sources have used the book from a local historical group and their book “Sannäs – Ett Bohuslänskt Kustsamhälle” and my father-, and mother-in-law and Wikipedia.

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A Car

A Car

One of my guiding stars for life is that you should learn something new every day or else the day has been wasted. So far in my life as a man in my prime age I have not yet wasted a day! One day my son and I realized we, or really me, are not very skilled in mechanics other than theoretically so we decided we need more practical experience. We started to browse the net for a “do it yourself car”. Budget was set to €1000 and soon we found it. A black Volkswagen Golf with 31000 kilometres on the display, a small car that does not use too much gas. After a short test drive and some bargaining we bought it for €700.

We soon realized that there was a large hole in the exhaust silencer and we hoped that is was not the first part with the catalyzer, it was! If you are not a garage owner and can lift up the car but are forced to rely on a jack and trestles you soon find out it is very tight under the car. Over one and half tonnes of car just 5 centimetres over your head makes you humble. We had very little clue on what to do so we had to go to YouTube for advise. Being a German built car the best instructions was in German, a language I struggle with a bit more than English. Thank you for the invention of video. We only had to use the angle grinder once but there was more use of the swearwords I must admit. No I will not teach you any Swedish swearwords here but leave a comment if you think I should write a piece on Swedish swearwords. To add more to this ordeal I had injured my back trying to salvage floating bridge that went A-wall in one of the winter storms. Stay tuned for that future blog.

Please note the extra safety measures in the left side of the picture.

Now the car was silent and driving it we soon realized it had a mind of its own, a soul or a ghost!? The door locks are really amusing. Most of the time the central locks works fine and locks all five doors but many times it only locks the drivers door. Drivers door is also the only keyhole that works with the only available key. Then you unlock and to try again to lock all doors except the drivers door locks, so you lock the drivers door and as you start to move away from the car all doors unlocks with a loud click. So you try again and the same thing all over again. Now we try to get in the car and start it up, get out and lock. Success! Okay, sort of. When you come out of the store you find that everything is unlocked except the drivers door. We are fortunate to live in a rural area with not much crime or car thefts. Put the key in the keyhole and everything locks. Finally you get in the car to drive away when the door locks only to unlock after a kilometre. A car with that much personality must have a name so he is now named Mulle Meck!

Wheels and tires are new!

One of the previous owners spent lots of money to put in a high quality stereo of the well known brand Denver. Listening to the radio is very interesting as is changes station randomly. Luckily we live in thinly populated area so there are not very many stations to tune in to but Denver tries them all six. There are four public service stations in Sweden and we can also, if the weather is good tune in to two local commercial stations. Public service station one offers news, debate and politics. The station two offers classical music and Denver seems to like this the most. I do not know if it is the same in other countries but the radio hosts presenting classical music has a very special tone. After the very bombastic symphony the host comes in in a very low monotonous voice explaining “this was the third symphony, second set and forth to fifteenth line in B-flat of Wolfgang Amendment Mollberg played by the philharmonic orchestra in Worchester-upon-a-hill conducted by Someone Somewonsky”. After that Denver quickly changes over to one of the commercial stations where a female singer is wailing away with just electronic drums as a backup. After a few minutes we realize that it is now a commercial for a local shopping mall.

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When we start the car, it starts real easy, it makes a squeaky noise like it is saying “why did you wake me up?” “I am tired and old, just let me stand here in the parking lot and rust away”! You need to be very tender with it driving as the clutch has a very, I mean a very, short span from neutral to drive. If you need to start in a small slope you start to sweat as soon as you realize that will be the case. To find the pull position you need to work with surgical precision, for all you brain surgeons out there saying it is difficult wait until you try this clutch. I guess we need to change the clutch and that blog post will probably be liked by all motor heads if we succeed. Hope you enjoyed this true story, like and subscribe.

Sheep

Sheep

So today the story of why sheep has a very special place in my heart and this is not a cheap story.

I have always told stories from early childhood. In the school yard, already from first grade, I told stories for my friends mostly because I was not very good at football, what the Americans call soccer, in fact quite lousy. I would make up stories about places we talked about during class even if I never sat my foot there or the strange man living alone in that old farm outside the city. This went on even as I was growing older and even as I did military service I sat there making up stories around the tent stove. I met my wife and we got two kids, two lovely boys with less than two years apart. Even before they were born I started to sing, rhyme and tell stories for them and when they were born and a bit older I use to involve them in the creation of the stories. Many of those stories were rhyme and we also love to read books with rhyme.

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When my sons were ten and twelve we went on holiday to the lovely island Gotland. It is a rock in the Baltic Sea made of lime stone and there is an amazing cave Lummelunda we went to. My wife always finds the souvenir shop as the highlight of everything we visits and could spend all her time there. She was pushing the guys to buy a small bowl, probably made in China, with the text Lummelunda Grottan to remember the visit but the youngest refused and pointed on soft toy at the back shelf. It was a twenty centimetres long, ten centimetres wide and ten centimetres high cuddle sheep! He immediately named it Ulle and hugged him intensively for the rest of that trip (in Swedish Ull means Wool). In Visby Ulle got a friend half the size but looking exactly the same after some protesting from my wallet. It was decided to be a she so she got the name Ulla. On the ferry to the mainland another cuddly soft toys even smaller was added to the collection with the name Junior.

Francis, Junior, Ulla and Ulle

Ulle and his little “family” fast became the center of the story telling. With a deep voice, same depth as Chef in South Park, he began to tell about his adventures around the world. For all the adventures he has experienced he must be at least 250 years old. Ulle likes to eat socks and has built in socks sorting machine that sounds chew, chew, chew. He farts a lot specially when eating socks or lying. He always tries to find excuses to go to the sock drawer. He is also the only sheep in the world that can fly! He does that by farting and since flying is dangerous should he run out of air in column he has mastered the ability to fart inwards. Ulla his wife often wonders why more comes out than goes in. Ulles predilection to rod or fart often puts him in difficult situations where he looses a prestigious job. Like the time he was a mascot for a football team and eat the visiting teams socks. Something happens in Ulles inside when he eats socks so ha began to fart so much that the players on both teams start to pass out. The referee gave him a red card, big mistake! Ulle rod him in the rear together with the side referee so they flew up in the audience that now also started to pass out. So he was fired! He also held a job with a well known president but that is another story and since I am on Twitter I dare not write it down.

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Soon all soft toys sheep started to develop a personality along with the stories and the number of sheep increased as a sheep was bought on every travel we made. The rule was if you held it you must buy it. My son named them all. Ulla soon developed a personality to match Ulle but with a very high pitch voice. Her self esteem is very, very solid in fact she is the best of the best! Every day she explains the scientific proof of the fact that she is the best. She asks if she is cuddly and yes this is true and then she asks if she is the cuddliest and you cannot deny this. That means that she is the best of being cuddly, right. Cannot deny this so that must mean that she is the best! Logical proof! Baa! Ulla is the leader of the quite large pack keeping the rest in order with her high pitched voice. There are many common features between Ulla and my wife but that must be a coincidence! Ulla has a soft spot for long underwear and has a factory at Svalbard where she is convinced there are polar sheep. She is a hard business woman, Ewe, driving the factory with student lamb coming to see the production.

Ulla leading the choir with strong discipline.

Even today as my son is twenty years old the sheep play an important part of our daily life. All parents I think feel that their children are special and so did we even if the youngest was very special the entire childhood. It was when he was in high school we realized that he was really special, he was diagnosed with Autism spectrum or Asperger’s syndrome. This means he is extremely intelligent and high functioning in some areas while he struggles in other more basic areas and especially with social interactions. I realized that the stories and personalities the sheep develop was a way for us to communicate and for him to handle his emotions. We very rarely hug without the sheep between us. He is easily stressed and then he can say Ulle does not feel very well. As a high functioning autistic he struggled in high school where the teachers often choose to disregard his special needs especially in language classes where you need to express feelings and thoughts, in Sweden we learn also English and a third language, German, Spanish or French. Straight A:s in all logical subjects but often failing in the humanistic subjects drove him into a deep depression. We still struggle with this but the sheep is there to support.

On a small island in the fjord there are some sheep that likes to run away and is therefore put on this island. We call it the sheep Alcatraz. This island is our special place and when the sheep hear the sound of our boat approaching they come running to see if we have any candy for them. I will share some pictures of them with you and if you think someone could enjoy or benefit from this text please share. Like, subscribe and comment!

Mamma är Blå och Vit

Mamma är Blå och Vit

Denna gång ett smakprov från boken som jag håller på att skriva. Den har mognat länge i min hjärnas vindlingar men har nu kommit en bra bit på väg även om det är långt kvar. Boken handlar om en pojkes uppväxt i förorten på 60- och 70-talet. Dela, gilla, kommentera och prenumerera om ni vill sporra mig att fortsätta.

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Han vaknade med känslan av att något var fel, en sådan där gnagande känsla av obestämt obehag. En känsla pojken var allt för van vid. Han tittade upp på sängbotten till överslafen på våningssängen i rummet som han delade med sin tre år äldre bror. Men hans bror var inte där. Hans bror var förvisad, efter att blivit gripen av polis för stöld, till deras alkoholiserade pappa och bodde nu i pappans enrummare i ett rivningshus. Dass på gården och en hembränningsapparat som puttrade i hörnet.

Kunde det varit hunden som gjort något ljud? Då kom pojken ihåg hur dagen avlöpt innan han gick och lade sig. Ett stort bråk mellan pojkens mamma och styvpappa i en lägenhet som inte var deras. Alkohol, gap och skrik innan till slut slag utdelades. Mamma blev slagen igen av styvpappan när hon ertappade honom hos hans älskarinna. Hennes glasögon flög av och föll mellan trapporna tre våningar innan de träffade betonggolvet och splittrades. Pojken fick hjälpa sin berusade mamma att ta sig hem med en Taxi, hunden och styvpappan som pojken älskade båda, blev kvar där i den andra lägenheten ute i förorten.

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De kom hem till lägenheten i en närliggande förort där pojken hjälpte sin förtvivlade och fulla mamma i säng innan han lade sig själv och somnade eller bara dåsade bort en stund. Nu var han klarvaken igen och det var ett ljud som inte borde vara där, även om pojken var van vid ljud som inte borde vara där. Så hade det varit under hela hans uppväxt. Han gick upp ur sängen och ut i hallen. Det var en typisk miljonprogramslägenhet med en ganska långsmal hall. Rum på båda sidor och köket i slutet av korridoren. Där satt hon på pinnstolen vid köksbordet av trä med Perstorpsplatta, eller hon halvlåg mera halvt nerhasad. Hennes underarmar skakade konstigt mot bordet och när pojken kom närmare såg han hur huden var fläckad, blå och kritvit. Ur munnen kom fradga och ögonen hade rullat bakåt i hennes bakåtlutade huvud som också dunkade i väggen bakom. ”Mamma, mamma vakna” försökte han ropa men hon skakade bara mer och gled längre ner på stolen. På bordet låg duken i en enda röra, ett par ölburkar låg ner och en vinflaska stod på bordet. På bänken vid sidan om henne fanns flera öppnade och tomma burkar med olika piller i samma oordning som på bordet.

När pojken inte fick kontakt med sin mamma förstod han någonstans att han måste ringa ambulans. Han tog telefonen med darrande händer och rullade fram larmnumret 90000 på sifferskivan. Efter vad han upplevde som en evighet, eftersom mamman nu började skaka allt intensivare, svarade någon i andra änden. Med grötig och darrande röst försökte pojken så sakligt som möjligt få fram sitt budskap till larmoperatören. ”Mamma är blå och vit och svarar inte, hon har tagit tabletter!” De lovade att skicka en ambulans direkt. Pojken kunde se för sin inre syn hur porten på Brandstationen öppnades och ambulansen körde ut med blåljus och sirener. Pojken var ofta och lekte i närheten av brandstationen eftersom det var spännande och fanns en fin skog intill att leka i. Ibland fick de komma in och titta på brandbilarna och vara med när brandmännen gjorde iordning efter en utryckning. Pojken gick och öppnade för ambulanskillarna, på den här tiden var det nästan bara killar, som kom in och började ta hand om mamman. Mamman hade slutat skaka och nu glidit ner hela vägen på golvet. Hon var mer blå än vit när pojken förtvivlat försökte få kontakt. Ambulanskillarna gjorde återupplivningsförsök och hjärtlungräddning innan de fick in henne i ambulansen. De körde iväg med blåljus och sirener och efter en stund hade de kört runt huset så han kunde se ambulansen köra förbi på baksidan husen med hög fart.

Nu var pojken helt ensam i trerumslägenheten. Han hörde hur luftpumpen i akvariet brummade och att någon granne spolade i toaletten. Han gick runt och tittade i bokhyllan där det stod en skivspelare av märket Philips där hans mamma brukade spela Demis Roussos eller Lasse Berghagen. Vid sidan om stod det stora 1000 liters akvariet som var hans styvpappas stolthet. På bordet framför soffan såg han resterna av festen som varit kvällen innan. Cigarettfimpar, halvt urdruckna glas, ölburkar och spritflaskor. Pojken åt av geléhallonen, eller jungfrubrösten som hans pappa kallade dem, och Ahlgrens bilar som stod i en skål på ett sidobord.  

Det var Annandag Jul 1976 och pojken var 10 år.

Kommentera gärna och kom gärna med tips på hur jag kan utveckla språket. Dela, Gilla och Prenumerera så det kommer mera.

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