Auntie Solveig

This is Reidar's aunt Solveig, his father's eldest sister, and one of two survivors of a flock of six children. She was born in 1915, and has her 94th birthday in November. We went to visit her the other day, in an immaculate flat in Oslo, neat and smart and full of flowers. She lives alone and does all her own cleaning and cooking. She walks to the local shop to get what she needs, and jumps onto a tram when she wants to go downtown.

She served us an elegant lunch ( the butter was done in little curls on a cut-glass dish) with no end of dainty things to eat on bread, and we sat at the table for two hours. Later Reidar showed her some old photo albums and she was able to identify people that were dead before Reidar was born. So more coffee and home-baked cake. We were there over six hours and she never seemed to get tired. What a remarkable woman!

Skype - wow!

I was lucky enough to borrow a laptop while I was away at rehabilitation (does that make me sound like a dried-out alcoholic in America? In Europe it's all about exercise and getting looked after in peaceful surroundings ). Anyway, I digress. The laptop was great, I could keep in touch with family and friends all over the place, and keep my brain active with plenty of solitaire. When I got home I was encouraged to keep it for a while, and eventually allowed to buy it. When I mailed Tamsin to tell her the good news, she wrote back, " Good, now you can have Skype". Yesterday evening, with telephone guidance from the ever-patient Nick, we installed it. Next thing I knew, I could see Tam and Nick, still in their sunday best - and they could see me - or us, because my excitement soon attracted Jeremy, and Reidar is magnetically attracted to any form of camera. How I wished I wasn't wearing my purple track-suit, how I wished I'd done my hair. But I'll be prepared next time. there will be silly hats, there may be fancy dress - who knows?

But how amazing is that? We can see each other while we talk. I will see my grandbaby as soon as it's born. I'm going to be at the baby-shower and can see all Tam's friends, and all the cute stuff she gets. what a difference this will make! Wow!

Sophie - pioneer for a new generation

Sophie is my mother's first great-grandchild, my late sister's granddaughter, and the idol of the whole family.
She's just been to stay at Roseveth again - her dad Rob loves surfing, so a trip to Cornwall kills two birds with one stone. Until recently Sophie's been unsure of her great-grandmother, and has cried when too close. This visit however, was different. Rob, Claire and Sophie stay next door in my brother's house, and Sophie told my sister-in-law Annette:-
"I'm going to see my date danny".
She climbed up into the armchair next to my mother and announced:-
"I'm going to sit next to you".
She then proceded to tell about her visit to Paradise Park, a sort of petting zoo with lots of birds.
"I gave food to the sheep and goats, but not to the donkeys"
"I saw big pink birds"- Great-granny asked:- "Did they have long legs?"
"Yes, I think their legs were tired".
"I slid down a slide and the balls flew up in the air".
"I'm two". Her mother said:- "You'll be two-and a half next month". This information was gravely passed on to GG.
To my brother Richard:- "Move those papers off the sofa, I'm going to lie down".
I know kids say the darndest things all the time, but it warms my heart to hear how a simple thing like learning to speak has bridged four generations and a age-gap of 93 (and a half) years.
Gwenyth Zillah Wallis will be 96 in October. Sophie will be two and a half, but they can sit and chew the fat like old friends.

Barnebarn er livets dessert

I saw this expression in a magazine and liked it straight away. Grandchildren are Life's dessert. Imagine ploughing your way through the main course of life - Brussels sprouts and gristly bits and all, and just when you think there isn't any more, someone places a delicious serving of something sweet in front of you. I think there is fruit involved, because my forthcoming grandbaby has been compared to fruit since he/she was the size of a blueberry, when we first heard of his/her existence. We have gone though olives, plums, avocados, and last I heard, the great American onion. I wonder when the arms and legs grow out, so it's less round? It's very exciting though, knowing that there's a new little person in there, getting bigger and stronger day by day, with a mummy and daddy that are following every new development with bated breath.
Of course, I couldn't wait to start knitting soft white little things, and even bought a couple of pastel-coloured garments. Tamsin and Nick made their first purchases in Stockholm, and I was surprised by their choice of colours. Their whole house is almond-oil, for goodness sake! I imagined they'd go for delicate pastels and white. But no, this is going to be one psychodelic baby! They love bright colours and off-beat designs.
So if you're out walking in Spanish Fork in the Spring and you see a pram with a rainbow in it, that'll be my grandbaby!

Long time no write

Wow! a lot has happened since I last wrote. Tamsin and Nick have come and gone ( and it was so nice to have them here when we needed them most ) and Reidar and I have both had major surgery - on the same day in two different hospitals! Reidar is home again, with his very favourite sister plumping up his pillows and peeling his grapes. I'm recovering from my second total knee replacement in a lovely rehabilitation centre in the mountains. It's called Landaasen - Google it! My window has a view over the lake, and it's very peaceful. I'm here for a couple of weeks to get plenty of physio and training, and be pampered a bit, to build myself up for whatever may lay ahead as far as Reidar is concerned. He should be getting his last two chemo treatments to complete the first course. After that he waits a couple of weeks before taking new pictures to assess the effects of the treatment and decide what happens next. He seems to be in fairly good spirits, and coping with major changes in his life - like someone other than me making his breakfast.

Time to stop this and do some knee-bends...

Home again from horrible Hamar hospital

Reidar was doing so well with his chemotherapy, then he got an infection. Chemotherapy works by destroying all fast-growing cells, bad and good alike, so bone marrow cells get killed, white blood cells don't get reproduced, so the immune system isn't able to cope with simple infections. We had just got back from a lovely trip to Trøndelag, where Reidar and a group of others from Nordbygdarevyen took part in a revue festival. We stayed in a rented cabin, and were looked after like royalty, with friends acting as porters, chauffeurs and chefs, and Reidar was made to rest as often as possible. Some might think that the trip was too much of a strain for him, so the infection was a direct result, but it would have happened if he'd just stayed home.
One evening he got a very high temperature, so I rang the hospital. They told me to bring him in at once, so I did, and he was admitted. He was sent home after a few days, but a new fever sent him back for a further two weeks. He was given penicillin intravenously, and on two occasions was put in quarantine (isolat). After two weeks they took a CT and discovered an abscess on the tumour, which was causing the infection. He was immediately moved to a surgical ward, but after one night there it was decided that he was well enough to come home. His immune system was getting stronger and his temperature was back to normal.
It hasn't been easy having such a sick man to look after, his mouth was very sore so eating was painful, and he had a poor appetite. He got a high temperature one evening, so we got another night-time trip to casualty (legevakt - the emergency room) but he was allowed home this time. He's slowly gaining strength and energy, so we hope he can soon resume chemotherapy.
We are also looking forward to a visit from my brother-in-law David, and his lovely lady-friend Pat. At the end of the month we'll have a visit from Tamsin and Nick. We're counting the days. So cross your fingers for Reidar, that he'll soon be done with chemo and able to get on with the next step - whatever that may be...

A midsummer night's dream

Midsummer in Norway is all about being outside and enjoying the sunshine.
Traditionally, a bonfire is built, usually at the edge of a lake, river, fjord or the sea. In England they build them on top of the highest hills to send signals, but every self-respecting hill should have a beacon on the evening of the longest day.

The wildflowers are at their best, and not many can resist the temptation of picking large bouquets. Small children traditionally plait coronets of flowers to wear on their heads that day.
In modern Norway it means a good barbeque, and this year our favourite supermarket was just about sold out of barbecue meat. A lot of wine and beer gets consumed too.
We went to Arild and May Sissel and sat on their lovely big veranda. We had grilled seafood kebabs, which were delicious. We sat eating and drinking and chatting until quite late. We watched the sun finally go down at 22.46, four minutes to eleven for those who haven't mastered the 24 hour clock. It would have been possible to see well enough to read a paper at midnight, and the sun was on its way up again before 3 am. The birds seem to sing all night, especially the large gang of magpies that greet each other merrily at any time of the day or night - the little rascals!
Now the nights are getting longer already, but we still have plenty of lovely summer to enjoy.