ON WAKING from snatching a short nap, I watched a bit of Norwegian TV. An experience that can only be fully appreciated if you don’t understand the language. As I speak more than a smattering it only served to nudge me back into the state of semi-consciousness I’d just struggled out of. You have to see it for yourself to get the full impact. Knowing the language only ruins things. The fun goes out of it completely.
Time was moving on. News of the fishing trip had yet to arrive from Ann-Ulrika. That night would be her last chance, as she was catching the ferry to Bodø next day. She’d already been disappointed on more than one occasion.
Though we had yet to meet, I was getting the distinct impression the old fishermen wasn’t nearly so keen on the idea as Ann-Ulrika. He was probably trying to dodge her in the knowledge she would be…
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