Archive for ‘Writing’

Published

Published

Yes, it’s true I’ve got an article published in a local newspaper called Veckovis. It’s very local so I share it here with you. Written in Swedish originally so I hope not too much is lost in translation.

The Turquoise Bridge

At the top of Norra Bullaren where the lake turns into Enningdalsälven we find this beautiful turquoise pearl. This beautiful bridge is probably missed by most people who pass by on the Blue-Green road towards the Norwegian border. Nowadays, both the store and the petrol station are closed on the Swedish side. But if you stopp from nostalgic reasons, like me, and look down to the lake, you see it. As an avid hobby photographer, you are drawn to such beauty as bees to nectar-filled flowers. 

The narrow cast iron bridge with wooden carriageway were built almost 100 years ago. The proud logo from Götaverken, Gothenburg, is embedded in the turquoise together with the year 1926. A work like this must have songs and poetry dedicated to it, I thought. Happily, I threw myself over a famous search engine on returning home. All searches on bridge Vassbotten came up quite empty. Searches on Enningdalsälven resulted in more hits on Älgafallet.

Even though Älgafallet is mighty and makes the photographer’s motive sensors go off at full speed, it was a bridge I wanted to know more about. Here it was important to make a “Message Board” with the thoughts and try something new. Götaverken. For me, who was born in Gothenburg, it is above all a shipyard. My father, who by the way was from Holkekärr in Bullaren, worked there when I was a child. Yes that is correct. I’m half-bulling in the embezzlement, hence the nostalgic stop at the store. The bridge, Bullaren, Götaverken and Gothenburg felt a bit like closing a circle. 

Götaverken ceased all operations in 2015, but all documentation has been saved at the National Archives in Gothenburg. Using the well-known search engine, I came to the conclusion that there was an archive of bridges and viaducts. It was in cover number nine for the years 1905 – 1937. Tab 33 Wassbotten, highway bridge Bullarens Härad 1926. A small notice “reading room” meant that it was as far as I could get in the digital world.  

Like the Phantom, would I have to leave the deep forests and wide expanses to walk the streets of the city like an ordinary man? With a son studying to be a history teacher at the University of Gothenburg, I did not have to go into the big city. This did not go down well with the wife who missed out on a shopping trip, but it is important to prioritize. After brushing off the archive dust, the good son was able to share lots of information with me.

The contract, with order number 5836, states that the bridge must have a parallel span with a length of 30 meters and a free bridge width of 4 meters. “Materials holding the requirements for cast iron class B shall be used for the iron superstructure except rivets and bolts”. “The bridge parts are to be coated twice with lead paint”. The work was to be completed on 1 October 1926 and anchorages were to be prepared by the client no later than 15 August. The contract was signed 31 March 1926. According to the contract, the price was SEK 14,500 (€1450). According to Statistics Sweden’s Price Converter, this would correspond to SEK 430,000 today (€43,000)

Test loading of the bridge took place on 6 and 7 December 1926, by loading the bridge with a 35 cm thick layer of gravel. According to the calculations in the protocol, the load was then about 600 kg / m2. The bridge arched 17 mm on the southern beam and 21 mm on the northern beam. After the load was removed, the bridge returned to its original position. In the test print protocol, I discovered that the modern spelling of Vassbotten was used with a simple V and not W as in the contract. 

The search for more information continued through contact with the Swedish Transport Administration. A very helpful archivist produced the drawing. The drawing which was completed a week later on April 6, 1926. Drawing and subtitling are done by hand. The engineer has based his construction on the Royal Swedish Road and Water Agency’s standard drawings for road and railway bridges A17 and A20. I do not dare to interpret the engineer’s signature so his name will remain unknown. I wonder if he understood that the bridge would still be in use after almost 100 years. Here you can also read that the carriageway is made of wood. Load-bearing plank 4×4 inches and wear surface plank in the dimension 2×5 inches. 

I also received information from the Swedish Transport Administration that a renovation and reinforcement had been done in 1956. Wooden planks and steel parts were replaced. The drawing shows that “all wood except the wear plank is impregnated with arsenic and creosote preparations”. “New steel parts are coated with lead paint and coated twice with anti-corrosion paint”. Here too, we can see changes through the history of the bridge. The dimensions of the wooden plank are here stated in millimeters, 50×125.  

Lots of technology here so we return to the bridge’s beautiful appearance. Such engineering needs attention and I hope I got someone to look a little extra next time they pass. Maybe someone has been inspired to write a song about it.

Be a bridge over someones troubled waters, ha de Gött!

Advertisements

Man cold

Man cold

I have a cold, and all men out there know what I’m talking about!.

My wife just giggles and mumbles something about giving birth. But let me explain how it feels.

The brain suddenly feels three sizes too big. However a jolly gang of workers banging away with sledgehammers, pickaxes and shovels to reduce the size. They move around the head with a big old Steam Train going cathunk, cathunk. The train blows the whistle on every lap around the head stopping with screaming breaks at the station between the eyes.

The foreman realizes that the brain size is not reducing fast enough so he decide to use dynamite and C4! They all cheer loudly after the explosion and, since it was a good blast they do it again, and again!

The throat feels like a dessert but my nose is working hard to build up a flood to wet it. Unfortunately this flood clogs and block any attempts to get air though the nostrils. I’m gasping for air through the mouth with the result of sand dunes start to form in the pharynx.

The water missing from my throat has now started to come out of the biggest organ in the body, the skin, rivers and rivers of sweat. Trying to speak only to realize that the sand in my mouth now have turned into glue.

I try to get out of the bed but the guys working in the muscles has been called to the brain shrinking task force. Resulting in me crawling on all four like a baby to get to the bathroom. Every step, if you can call crawling that, feels like I’m a pincushion.

After slipping around the bathroom floor I manage to find my way back to the bed. Without getting lost in the closet. Only find myself in front of Mount Everest.

Trying to climb back into bed makes all the muscle guys go to their Union rep and complain. As they go on strike I fall asleep on the floor dreaming of demonstrations and rioting. Now the left and right side of the brain decides to start a civil war firing artillery at each other.

After what feels like forever I recover and the merry men in my head finally managed to reduce my brain size to fit the thick skull. The muscle guys however demands vacation due to the overtime. I stumble out to the kitchen just to find the To Do List from the wife!

Stay warm, ha de Gött!

Advertisements

Bad luck

Bad luck

Stupid, silly, dumb, foolish, fool, idiotic, imbecile, fatuous, daft, doltish, sappy, goofy, rattle-headed, nit-witted. I could go on and on with word describing (other) peoples lack of intelligence. Languages are usually full of these words. But people are not stupid!

They just have bad luck when they think!

People make mistakes, be forgiving. Ha de Gött!

Advertisements

Green Stone

Green Stone

There is a special, magical place. An oak and linden tree forest on the north side of a ridge. Autumn leaf softly swirl down to the ground from the tall trees. Dry leafs on the ground rustle around your feet as you walk. In the crown of the majestic trees, the south west wind makes a whooshing sound.

On the ground it is silent and still, so silent you can touch it. Smell it. Feel it. There under green blankets of moss the trolls sleeps until night comes. A woodpecker makes a knocking sound trying to find food in a dead oak branch. All is well and your soul is renewed.

Listen to the sound of silence, ha de Gött!

Advertisements

The Spell

The Spell

Which witch thought the toughest thought. With her wand cast a spell over the writer so he could no longer spell. Did he steal the steel! Some words are just to alike. Sounds alike but spells differently. A challenge for school kids and foreigners.

Yesterday I accidentally accused Götaverken for criminal activities. Of coarse they did not steal constructions, the made STEEL constructions. Ships, bridges and lock gates. They went out of business 2015 but I hope no former employee was offended. My father was actually one of them in the 1970:ties.

Sometimes I wonder if there is an academy of sorcerers and witches sitting there in a dark chamber deciding spelling and spells. Can you hear the laughter when they decide how to spell wit and with. How they choke for air and slapping themselves on their knees when someone throws in whit also. What a marvelous stew in the kettle of books!

Of and away with, wit, whit my broom, he he he he, ha de Gött!

Advertisements

Tractor

Tractor

This weekend was the start of the moose hunting season. Better stay out of the forest for a while. My father-in-law told me there was a veterans tractor day not far from home. I grabbed the camera and joined him.

It was a pleasant surprise to see all the tractor models from my childhood. Some in mint condition and some very much in daily use. There was the Volvo BM 230 with its characteristic sound from its two cylinder diesel engine, “ti-to, ti-to. Hence it got the nickname “Tisdag-Torsdag”, Tuesday-Thursday, but it doesn’t make any sense in English, sorry.

There was also Volvo BM 430 and Volvo BM 350. The 350 was also called Boxer from its three cylinder boxer diesel engine. I remember the acrobatic struggle to get in and out of the Boxer. The smell of wet soil and diesel filled the air in the mild autumn weather as the sound of strong diesels rang in my ears.

Grounded in dirt, ha de Gött!

Advertisements

Three more

Three more

I promised in a comment to write about the three additional letters we have in the Swedish alphabet, so here it is. Yes it’s true we have three more letters after A to Z as in the English alphabet. Åå, Ää and Öö. Not to be show off’s, they have these with a different spelling, and pronunciation, in Danish and Norwegian also. Let’s just say it’s a Scandinavian thing.

Lets start with Å. A friend of mine tried to explain this in a London pub when we were young backpackers. “It’s an a with a prick on”, he said. Took a while to figure out why the men laughed and the girls blushed. Dot is in Swedish “prick”. It is pronounced as ooh. Even for native Swedish it’s sometimes difficult to know when to use O or Å.

Moving on to the A with two pricks on, Ä. Pronounced eah. If you have sheep close by listen to them, they go bäää. Use Google translate to listen. Just copy from this text and paste in Google translate. Very common use and a real struggle for all English speakers moving to Sweden.

So the last letter the O with two pricks on, Ö. This is actually also an entire word that translates to island. You just have to listen to this on Google. There is nothing even close in English that I can think of. I think this is a happy little letter. Used to drive my teacher crazy when I made a smiley of it.

Just remember that sometimes less is more, ha de Gött!

Advertisements

Dancing Queen

Dancing Queen

Like a white beacon in all the green. The hedge bindweed (Calystegia sepium) got my imagination going with its many English names. But first the Swedish name, “Snårvinda”. Connects to its growth place in bushes where it twines around another plants. Reaches up to four meters. It can be found all over the world in tempered climate in several sub species.

The English names is like a smorgasbord. Rutland beauty, bugle vine, heavenly trumpets, bellbind, granny-pop-out-of-bed and, according to Wikipedia, many more. Please drop a comment if you know any more. Heavenly trumpets seems a fitting name with its innocent white and trumpet shape flowers.

Granny-pop-out-of-bed. In my head plays out the scene with granny jumping out of bed. Dressed in her long white night dress. Hair all white from age and fuzzy from sleep. She dances around like a teenager in the bedroom with the radio playing loud. The song is the Beatles “a hard days night”. Sweeps across the hall to that handsome widower’s room. He wakes up mumbling something about ghosts. He finds his glasses, and his teeth. Puts them in to give her a Liberace smile. They dance all night and just before the staff enters her room she slips back into bed. The staff helps her with the morning things. While wheeling her out to the common room for breakfast they ask if she had a good night. Sure did, she answers and give the widower across the hall a wink of the eye. Now then, ready for pills and bridge thrills before the heavenly trumpets sounds.

Angels sound your horns, Ha de Gött!

Advertisements

What if

What if

What if there were no name to places? All positioning was mathematically. Where do you live? Oh, I live at N58°, E11°.

Would all territorial wars end? Or would we just fight over squares.

What language would be? Or would we only communicate mathematically like computers. In ones and zeros, or hexadecimals.

How about our names? Just a series of numbers, date of birth and a serial number like our social security number. “Happy birthday dear 20210710-0001”.

If we only worked with numbers would all scores be settled?

Did you meet all your numbers? Yes, we had a large family dinner.

Marriage an addition, divorce a subtraction. Making children, multiplying. Would then giving birth be a division?

Genealogy just a matrix.

Sometimes my thoughts don’t add up, ha de Gött!

Advertisements