2018.

Not a soppy post, I prom-prom.

"So, Christmas is done for another year". The classic quote from so many people after Christmas... All that build up, all the stress, all the food - all done. It was worth it :) We also had morfar's 80th birthday celebration on the 28th which was great.. Good to see the old boy smiling and surrounded by family on the big day. A good chance, also, to meet more of the fam - I bonded pretty well with Håkon (one of Stine's second cousins) over Lego and iPad games. It is good to have a bit of man time with someone of my own mental age. He is 9. The rest of the family were great too, making an effort to speak slowly in Norwegian and throw in some English to help me out. The conversation did get to Trump, feminism, pay-gap and transgender issues which got quite heated and interesting until it switched to Norwegian - then I just buried my head back into destroying balloons on the iPad. 

Lepsøy from the grandparents' window

After spending a delightful time at the island with the peeps, we were more than happy to have some well deserved "us time" without wrapping, prepping, cooking, hosting, driving etc. Our new year's weekend plan consisted of stocking up on firewood, meat and bread, put phones on flight mode and kick it with a few films and kitten stroking. This is what we did. In the past, on occasions when I haven't planned on doing anything on new years, I have been hit with sudden pangs of guilt, usually leading to a rushed decision to go to Ballare or Derby and surround myself with once-a-year-drinkers who have no idea how to behave, nor the inclination or want to do so. Perhaps it is my age, but this year I could not give a flying fun about going out and thoroughly enjoyed some good quality time with my ladies.

With mother dearest up Fjellstua

I am a little bit of a new year's scrooge - I find it strange that humans have invented a calendar and have clung to one particular day that marks the passing of the past and welcoming the future. It gives us a chance to say that all the terrible shit that happened recently was back in 2017 and that 2018 will be better. It also gives us a chance to make shit resolutions, knowing full well that "no one sticks to them" and go about doing the same shit for another year just to do it all again. Perhaps this is just me being a massive neg - or simply reflecting on my own views and mistakes in the past - either way, the point is that the number of the year makes absolutely no difference to anything. If you want to change, improve, forgive or rebuild, do it now. Life is a constant flow of change, and at any point one can alter their course, improve their way of life, forgive themselves and others and rebuild any relationship they wish to. Anyway, I'm not Ghandi...

2018 is a big year. In the summer-ish, we'll be getting married (date and venue soon to be confirmed, seeds planted) and shortly after I'm sure we'll try our best to pop a little baby inside Stine's belly-button. This requires some preparation: physically, mentally and financially. Financially, I have become much more laid back: things cost a shit ton here - you'll always want more - we will probably never earn a ridiculous amount of money due to the careers we've chosen - it comes, it goes. My contract runs until June, so over the next couple of months I'll be working on securing a longer term post, perhaps getting myself back into university if needed. Physically, I have also become very laid back. Almost horizontal. My posture is shocking and I am much more likely to hit the sofa than the gym. My sperm are probably much the same - three headed weirdos, with one head going in one direction, one going another, and the third just sleeping. So now it is time to get active again without any stupid gym memberships (that I'd inevitably get super into for a month or so, loving the GAINS, then lose interest), but by using nature. Long walks, mountain hikes, cross-country skiing and five-a-side football should do the trick while giving a boost to the brain and sorting out those little spermanoids. 

The thought of having a family fills me with equal parts of excitement and dread. Growing up, I thought it was a given that if you wanted kids, you just bang them out. If you don't wear a condom once, you'll 100% have a baby... That's just how it works. Now I know just what a #blessing it is to have a successful pregnancy and we really should appreciate just how miraculous it is to create life. So, my dread comes from the knowledge that we may not be able to have kids and my excitement comes from knowing that we may. The dread is tampered by the fact that I have the most incredible person I have ever known by my side, and we would be able to TeamStimie the shit out of anything that comes our way. 

Before it gets soppy, I'll wrap it up... Thank you to everyone who has been reading this mish-mash blog in 2017. It feels good to know that people give a shit, and keeps my soul close to the people I have connected with in the past, but that life has pushed a physical distance in between. It is also lovely to hear that some people I have never met are reading this... I look forward to meeting you. 

Be good,

James

P.S. I coloured in a sexy frog on my phone - inspired by Håkon (the game, that is...not the sexy frog). Happy new year x

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P.P.S. After I had written the first draft and saved it (I always get Stine to have a look over for grammatical errors, seeing as English is her second language and better than mine), I went out for a little walk, seeing as the sun was coming out and I'd killed a reasonable amount of aliens and set up my new games (FIFA 18 and The Witcher 3, if you were wondering).  The roads are pretty icy at the moment and even the winter tyres struggle sometimes, so I decided to drive up the mountain for a good view of the town. I managed to get up there, albeit painfully slowly at times. 

The view was, as always, incredible and I enjoyed a nice little stroll along the mountain until I could feel the cold coming through my converse (this was in around 5 minutes, as I had to walk directly on the snow to avoid the ice). To make the journey more worthwhile, I thought I'd go back to the car and drive along the rest of the way to the main carpark bit. At this point, a little voice said "nah mate, not worth it, you'll probably get stuck on the ice, leave it." As I mentioned in my last post, I have been reading Robinson Crusoe - in which the main character (Robinson... Something) discusses these little instinctive voices that pop up from time to time. Even though old Robby concludes that it is wise to follow this instinct, and it was only last night I was reading this particular chapter, I ignored my inner-cranial voice, got in the car and made my way along the mountain. Within 30 seconds, I felt the tyres struggle even more and decided to turn around. I got the car to about 120 degrees before I realised I was in a little trouble... The tyres now had no grip at all and the car began to go backwards, down hill. I managed to stop and decided that if I could slowly back down the little hill, find a flat part, get some speed up and get home. This plan went to shit within seconds as my passenger rear tyre slid into the snow verge, causing the car to rotate outwards again across the road. At this point, of course, a car comes round the corner towards me and sits there, probably thinking "English".  Another car came from behind with an elderly couple inside. The guy got out and sort of ice skated over - I got out the car and nearly fell straight away. He advised me to continue reversing and try spin the car back so it was parallel with the side of the road and out of the way. I just about managed this, so at least people could get past. The guy went on to ask me if I had insurance because I will have to call the services to come and get me... Which costs quite a lot of money. At this point, I didn't know whether our insurance covered this which instantly put me in a sweat. Called Stine, then insurance, then Stine again, then back to insurance - all sorted, we were covered and someone will be here at some point to get me. I resigned myself to the fact that I might be in the car with really cold feet for some time, so I got a little Adam Buxton podcast on the go and tried to drown out the growing sense of anger, guilt, shame and self-emasculation. 

A little while later, two super heroes rounded the corner in front of me - one wearing a yellow jumper, the other a yellow scarf. Stine and Hanne had braved the ice to come and help. I tried to explain that I was stuck - the car won't move - Viking (the AA) were on the way and there was NOTHING anyone could do because it was IMPOSSIBLE to get out. 

Within 5 minutes I was out. 

Stine and Hanne went round the back and pushed while I revved - didn't work. 

A guy tied his dog up to come and help push. Didn't work.

Another guy pulled over, got out of his car and helped push - nada. 

Then the dog guy came up with the master plan of LIFTING THE CAR OUT OF THE SNOW. I muttered to myself "oh fucking superman's going to sort it out", so pissed off and embarrassed at all the fuss, while secretly glad that there was an alpha male there to help. 

They only went and LIFTED THE CAR OUT OF THE SNOW! This meant we were back to my original plan of backing up etc. I was not in the mood to get stuck again and lose any bit of dignity I had left, so I let Hanne do the honours. She smashed it. I then tried to walk up the hill to the car and constantly slid back down... The dog guy had to hold my hand. 

Lessons learned: 

Follow instincts

Don't rush into calling services

A car can be LIFTED

I am riddled with man-pride and need to have a word with myself about it