This post is not about travel or adventure, but rather about settling in, adjusting to a new place to live, a new job and new home.

Moving in

Anyway, against all odds I made it safely home and the next day we went into Mariehamn to order a replacement mattress for our bed (the old one had been smoke damaged during the fire and had been discarded). This is when it turned out that they didn’t really sell mattresses in imperial measurements in Scandinavia. It would have to be special ordered. To an astronomical cost. Goddammit! Luckily, we were able to borrow a mattress from my dad’s summer-house for a while.

The new job

I also started my new job as a web developer for an online gaming company. The first week was a blur of new people, new routines and meetings. Lots and lots of meetings. And quite a lot of darts**. I was also shown around the two offices, meeting all the people and shaking a lot of hands. I can’t honestly say that I remember everyone’s name or what they do (it’s quite a big company), but they seem to be nice, decent people with a good sense of humour.

Nature on our doorstep

I must admit this is what I’ve missed the most living away from Scandinavia: the forests. It was so still and peaceful in here, with no distractions or.. Oh, look! An ant hill! What do you say, Lydia the dog? Shall we call on them? Let’s call on them and see if they’re awake!

* Not much adventure really, but quite a lot of travel. And interesting none the less!

** My new employer believes in a creative workplace, and provides a recreation room with a dart board, a pool table and a selection of games.

*** OK, so they were just Wood anemones, but still..

Leaving Skåne

Passing through Småland and Östergötland

Suddenly the sky turned dark grey and each car I passed sprayed my windscreen with grubby brown road water. I had to turn off and pull in on a petrol station to rinse of the windows and fill up the washer fluid. I looked up at the sky again; it seemed like it would start to rain soon. And as I pulled out of the petrol station (Right hand traffic! Right hand traffic!), it did. With a vengeance.

Entering Östergötland was not particularly dramatic. Rather, it was more of the same. I was reminded of that traveling by car in Sweden invariably gets rather tedious.

Södermanland and Uppland

A few hours later I had passed Norrköping (without even catching a glimpse of the city, as is the Swedish way) and was in Södermanland. In another hour I’d be in Stockholm, my birthplace. But just north of Norrköping I passed Scandinavia’s largest wildlife park: Kolmårdens djurpark. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to stop, so I could only wave at the road sign and drive on.

Åland, Finland

The ferry to Denmark

My home for the next 18 hours..

After having boarded the Dana Sirena I went to look for my cabin. I knew from experience and tales from my mother that I shouldn’t expect much in ways of things to do on the 18 hour crossing to Denmark, so I had resigned myself to an early night in my cabin. At least the sea looked calm.

I never learn, do I? Around midnight, I was rudely woken up by waves banging against the hull of the ship, doors slamming back and forth and my cabin rocking heavily. Luckily, I managed to go back to sleep and cheat the sea sickness this time. And by midmorning the sea had calmed down, and I could relax and read a few more chapters of Jenny Lawson’s awesome memoir ‘Let’s pretend this never happened’.

Getting to Copenhagen

After landing in Esbjerg in Denmark I got into my car and disembarked the ferry. Well on shore, I waited in line for passport control and customs. To my disappointment, the police just waved me through. What? Did they not want to check my passport? I could be an international spy or something.

The next few hours were enjoyable. I was going at speed down the main motorway E20 across Denmark in light traffic and nice weather. Mile after mile was quickly covered, and Copenhagen and the mighty Öresund bridge was beckoning at the other side of Denmark.

This is Denmark – flat, sunny and road signs littered with those odd ø’s.

However, a casual glance at my satnav suddenly had me concerned: “Board ferry in 3 km”. What’s this? Why should I have to take a ferry to get from Esbjerg to Copenhagen? This couldn’t be correct? But, true to its words, 3 km later I stopped in front of a harbour, with what could only be described as a ferry busily loading cars ahead of me. I had no choice but to drive up to the check-in booth and pay.

This is when I realised there were some drawbacks driving a right-hand drive car in right-hand traffic. The ticket booth was on the passenger side, and my passenger side window has been jammed for some time and won’t open (mental note: get the passenger side window fixed already), so I had to get out of the car and walk around to the lady in the booth. “English?” she offered before I could say a word, and I knew better than trying to correct her (any correction would lead to an extended explanation of circumstance, guaranteed to leave her suspicious and confused). So I pretended to be English, paid for the ticket and said “Excellent” and “Ta”. It wouldn’t surprise me if I would get through Denmark without speaking a single word of Danish, which made me a little sad.

Five hours into Denmark I realise for the first time that I haven’t seen a single MINI Cooper apart from my own. They can’t be very popular over here. (It’s a lesser known fact that the Isle of Man is jam-packed with MINI Coopers – you can hardly swing a cat without hitting at least three or four of the buggers.)

The bridge

The Öresund bridge – the longest road and rail bridge in Europe

Eventually I reached the outskirts of Copenhagen and could see the Öresund bridge at the horizon. Even though I had crossed the bridge several times before, I was still exited; it’s a very impressive construction! (I tried to get video footage of me crossing the bridge but the camcorder kept sliding off the dashboard so I had to abandon the idea.)

Coming from the Danish side, I first went through the 2,5 mile long Drodgen tunnel that exit on the artificial island Peberholm. Then I finally got onto the bridge itself. With a clear blue sky the view was amazing, and as I climbed higher and higher I could eventually see the Swedish coastline on the other side. And after having crossed the 5 mile long bridge, I entered the Kingdom of Sweden. I paid the toll and continued onto the customs booths. But, again, no one stopped me to check my passport. What’s wrong with the world? What’s the point of having a passport if no one ever checks it?

Anyway, after the surprisingly long drive across Denmark, I was pretty tired and I checked in at a hotel in Lund for a good night’s sleep.

And thus end part two. In part three I will travel up through Sweden and take a final ferry before finally arriving in Åland, Finland.

A road map of the trip across Denmark:

Leaving the Isle of Man

Bye bye Isle of Man!

Having woken up early, we stuffed our little MINI Cooper with cat carrier (containing a slightly annoyed Assar the cat), luggage and all the things we’ve been using for the last month or so. Luckily, my mum and her husband had helped us move all the furniture and bulky items to Finland a few weeks earlier. None the less, when we finished packing, the car looked like it was actually bulging. Hopefully it would hold together for the next four days.

Then off to Douglas and the Sea Terminal and checking-in. After we’ve boarded the ferry, we went upstairs and settled down in a row of recliners, getting ready to get some breakfast. The sea looked calm, not as choppy as we’ve feared after the stormy weather we had the other day. Little did we know..

The Irish sea was not friendly this morning, and as the ferry was a catamaran, it rolled heavily with the waves. I hardly managed to eat anything of my breakfast and Fiancée was looking sea sick as well. Only Baby girl was happy, climbing up and down the seat over and over again for 30 minutes. But as she suddenly stopped and sat down staring empty-eyed in front of her I suspected she also has succumbed to the sea sickness. And yes, she had: suddenly she threw up all over herself and her seat. Which was the point in time we realised we had forgotten to bring a change of clothes from the car. Instead, Fiancée had to run to the onboard souvenir shop and get her a t-shirt, which happened to be black with a death angel bike rider printed on it. Ah, well..

Heathrow Airport

Saying goodbye to Baby girl at Heathrow airport

After we’d safely arrived in Heysham, we set off along the M6 towards Heathrow Airport. Fiancée, Baby girl and Assar the cat were scheduled to go on the plane to Stockholm the next morning, so once we’ve arrived to Heathrow, we took in on a nearby hotel for the night.The morning after was a stressful one, however: I had to get up in time to get Assar the cat to SAS Cargo on the other side of the airport (which took much longer than expected, with rush hour traffic, multiple offices processing discrete parts of the documentation and confused staff). By the time I got back to the hotel, we realised we had to ditch the breakfast and rush to the airport check-in.

After having checked in all the luggage (amazing how much stuff is required to travel with a baby!), we settled down for a sandwich and coffee. Then it was time to say goodbye as they had to go through security. Suddenly I was all alone..

Getting to Harwich

You have to imagine a soundtrack consisting of Barenaked Ladies

My next leg on the journey was to get from Heathrow to Harwich to catch the Dana Sirena to Esbjerg in Denmark. As it wasn’t more than 112 miles, I settled down for a relaxed trip. Suddenly I remembered the mix CDs Amy so kindly sent me in time for our move. However, I know from before that our taste in music don’t always mash, so it was with some trepidation I inserted her first CD. Barenaked Ladies poured forth from the speakers: “If I had a million dollars, I’d buy you a green dress. (But not a real green dress, that’s cruel.)” I must admit I LOLed. Good start, Amy! And as the mix CD continued to play, I found myself incapable of switching it off. It was like a quirky radio station you just can’t tune away from. And it did make me happy. Thank you Amy for making my trip easier!

I arrived in Harwich in good time and had time to shop for some snacks at the local Morrisons superstore and get myself a Filet-o-fish burger at McDonalds (and free WiFi!) before my phone rang. Fiancée and Baby girl had arrived safely in Stockholm and had met up with my mum in order to pick up Assar the cat at customs. However.. A date stamp was missing somewhere in his pet passport and he would not be able to enter Sweden. Instead, he either had to be quarantined for 6 months or put down. In addition, the customs office was closing for the day in 20 minutes.

Goddammit! I now had to get the required documents from the Isle of Man, and we knew the information was spread across three different offices. So, 15 minutes and six international phone calls later, I believed I’d chased up the missing information and could only hope that they’d fax it over in time to the customs office, which was closing in.. erm.. 1 minute.

Nail-biting time ensued. Then, after about 10 minutes, the phone rang: it’d worked! Assar the cat was free and on his way with the family to his new home! Phew! I could now relax and board the ferry to Esbjerg, Denmark.

And so end part one. Part two will take us through to Denmark and further on to Sweden.

Update

I’ve included a road map of the trip so far.

"Koyaanisqatsi. Koyaanisqatsi."

I watched Koyaanisqatsi yesterday. It was a long time coming, I’ve been listening to the awesome soundtrack for more than 20 years. But then I’ve always liked Phillip Glass. And to be fair, that was one of the main reasons I decided to finally watch a 30-year-old experimental, obscure and unscripted documentary.

As it happens, I liked it. It was sort of powerful, and even though the messages were a bit blunt and obvious in places, it was a beautiful piece of work.

But this is not an overdue review of Koyaanisqatsi. No, instead I want to discuss a phenomenon I discovered watching the film: time-lapse effects.

Koyaanisqatsi is filled with time-lapse effects. From cloudscapes pouring over mountain ridges like waterfalls to shadows creeping across desert canyons, it is used to emphasise patterns too slow to notice in real-time. But as I watched the high-speed footage of New York traffic, I noticed something peculiar. The faster the speed, the less important the individual cars and people seemed to be. It was almost like the producer had an “emotional importance”-slider, and he adjusted it to help us focus on specific individuals whilst others became just like insects, lost in a blur.

Why is this? Why do people depicted in slow motion seem more important? And why, when we speed the footage up, do they look first appear comical and then unimportant?

Time to process

How many of the cars seem important to you? Answer: the one in the middle.

My first thought was that this effect might have something to do with our brain being given more time to process slow-moving objects and people than fast-moving ones. It might just be that our brain is struggling to make sense of those blurry shapes and therefore disregard them as unimportant. This didn’t ring true however, and even if I guess this might be the case, it doesn’t explain why I felt a more emotionally attachment to the slow-moving people. Clearly there must be more to this phenomenon than pure processing speed.

The ‘cool factor’

So then I started to think in terms of how slowed down human movements could possibly make more of an impact than hasty, speeded up ones. And I remembered a post I wrote many moons ago on the essence of ‘cool’. In that post, I concluded that slow determined movements was a sign of a person being confident and feeling in control, and that this is why people look cooler in slow-motion. Ok, great! That must be it then. That’s why I felt the urge to focus more on the slow-motion people than the hi-speed ones.

Erm, no. Very few of the people in the film seemed to be in control, and they didn’t look cool, even when slowed down to a crawl. Also, the same emotional attachment could be felt towards cars in high-speed traffic footage, where cars slowing down or stopping suddenly appeared much more important. And they didn’t look cool either.

The answer might be ‘no answer’

So I’m still no closer to an explanation to this intriguing phenomenon. It might be that by slowing down footage, they occupy more time and therefore trigger our brains to give it more focus. And by giving it more focus, we automatically become more attached to it – perhaps just because we’ve invested time and energy on studying it.

Or. It could just be an anomaly of how our brain works. A side-effect, if you will. Nothing that would give us any kind of benefit, but also not enough of a drawback to be selected against. I know, it sounds a bit like a cop-out but sometimes that’s how it is.

So, sorry about leading you all into this blind alley! Feel free to scorn me in the comments. Or – even better – perhaps you’ve got some ideas regarding this phenomenon.

At least this post wasn’t a total bust; I got to use the word ‘phenomenon’ five times, which is just great!

P.S. I know this post is a bit on the short side, but that’s due to unforseen circumstances. Hopefully everything will be back to normal in a few weeks.

I’m hopeful, however, that it will soon be remedied, and normal service will be resumed come May. Thanks for your patience!

Waking up

It all started at 2 am Wednesday morning. I woke up to Baby girl screaming frantically in her room across the hall. Scrambling out of bed, I thought she must have hurt herself somehow, but as I got into the hallway I was hit by a wall of heat. I must admit that my first thought was: “Bloody hell, what’s wrong with the central heating? It’s boiling in here!” but then I drew my first breath of hot toxic smoke and the penny dropped. “Oh my god!” I shouted to Fiancée. “Fire! There’s a fire! Wake up!” The hallway was pitch black with no lights working, and Baby girl’s screams got even more panicky as a loud bang was suddenly heard from her room. Opening her door (Why was the door shut? It’s never shut; we always keep it open so we can hear the baby.), the heat increased to scalding hot oven levels. It seemed incredible that anyone could still be alive in there.

Abandoned cot

Now, I don’t recall the next part all too clearly, but I remember seeing flames in the corner of the room and thinking to myself “Well, THAT needs to be put out”, quickly discovering I couldn’t breath and then I’m suddenly running downstairs with Baby girl in my arms, placing her on a big bean bag in the ground floor sitting room (aka the office), where she sat perfectly still, looking shocked and confused. I also recall the fire alarm going off somewhat superfluously, almost politely, as if to remind us that there might be some kind of fire on the premises. Oh, and all the time I seem to have screamed “Fire! There’s a fire! Get out NOW!”

Getting out

Hearing nothing from Fiancée, I rushed up the stairs again, slammed the door shut to baby’s room to contain the fire and got back into our bedroom. There I found Fiancée hanging out the bedroom window gasping for air, as the bedroom was now completely filled with hot black smoke. I shouted to her that we needed to get out, but she wouldn’t budge, her body frantically trying to get oxygen. I managed to get my head out a window as well to get a couple of breaths of fresh air and after a few seconds we had regained enough focus to call the fire brigade on my mobile and rush down the stairs. We even managed to get the dog out with us (who, by the way, wouldn’t leave my fiancée’s side for the whole time).

Downstairs it was almost smoke free, and as Fiancée picked up Baby girl, I rummaged around my jacket for a torch I knew I had there. (Still don’t know why I thought I needed a torch at that point.) As we got out of the house, the neighbour came rushing out her house, looking panicked and asking if we were all ok. I assured her we were all fine, but by now my face was pitch black from all the smoke and she didn’t look too convinced. It later came to light she and at least two more neighbours had phoned the Emergency services as well, and reported a family trapped inside a burning house. This probably explains why, as soon as I got everyone into the car and reversing it away from the house, the first police car came around the corner. Within seconds three or four more police cars arrived and the place suddenly seemed crowded with police officers.

Rescue

One of the police asked us if anyone was still in the house and I tried to reassure him that we were all in the car, but again without much success. Not until I said “Everyone is out and in the car, including the dog.” did he believe me.

The place the telly used to be

By now a fire truck had arrived, and I watched with detached curiosity as they quickly and efficiently went to work with rolling out hoses and strapping on breathing apparatuses. As they entered the front door, that same police man who quizzed me before guided me towards our car, asking if anyone was hurt. “No, were all fine” I said, feeling somewhat dazed and a little annoyed with not being allowed to see the fire being put out.

“We better have you checked over anyway” he replied, gesturing for the newly arrived medics to come over and we were quickly led into the ambulance, where Fiancée was put on a stretcher with Baby girl and I sat down next to them.

I didn’t feel scared or in shock, just a little speeded (although I probably was a sight with wild starey eyes in my sooty black face). As the ambulance reversed back out onto the main road, the medic checked our oxygen levels to make sure we hadn’t suffered any immediate smoke inhalation injuries.

All in all, the whole chain of events from waking up to being on our way to the hospital can’t have taken more than 7 or 8 minutes, and I believe we probably were out of the house in two minutes or less.

Aftermath

At the Accidents & Emergency ward, we were given oxygen level checks again, water to drink and blankets to wrap around us (I was still strutting about in my underwear). With everyone safe and unharmed, we slowly started to calm down. We phoned our families in Scandinavia (giving them quite the scare, I’m sure), and I tweeted / status updated to let my online community know what was going on (and almost immediately got worried responses from the ones still up and about – thank you, guys!).

As we didn’t have any family on the island, the British Red Cross was called in to take care of us until we could sort out temporary accommodation. I must say, the response both from the emergency services, the hospital and the Red Cross was top-notch! Everyone was very friendly and supportive and made us feel that we could deal with this difficult situation step by step (the Red Cross people even offered to babysit Baby girl for us!). Also, the support we’ve received from the community has been absolutely overwhelming – each day there’s been more bags with toys and clothes for Baby girl waiting outside our abandoned house. We’ve even been lent a flat to use and we’ve had help moving our stuff and babysitting Baby girl. Thank you all!

Beauty in chaos

Later that day, we met up with the Fire chief and he explained what they thought caused the fire. As it turned out, an extension lead seemed to have overheated, melted and set fire to the television set (that bang I heard during the fire was the screen exploding from the heat). I’m still not sure why the extension lead should have caught fire, as we only had the telly, a Blu-Ray player, a Sky box and a VCR plugged in. Oh, and a hard disk and a Skype phone, but both of those had separate power bricks. Modern gadgets like flat screen tellies and Blu-Ray players don’t draw much power on stand-by, so it’s still a bit of a mystery why it overheated.

Lessons and warnings

However the extension cord caught fire, I’m certain I’ll only ever buy and use the more expensive kind from now on; you know, with switches and fuses and stuff. I’ll also make sure to calculate the total load on any extension cord in use to make sure nothing could potentially overheat.

But even if prevention is essential, what really scared the living daylight out of me was how late the fire alarms set off. We had two radio-connected alarms, one on each floor, but it’s painfully clear that this just isn’t enough. Every home need a separate fire alarm IN EVERY ROOM, and they need to be connected so that one alarm set off all the others. That’s the only way you have a chance of getting even a few seconds margin to get out the building in time. We were apparently VERY close to not make it out alive at all – another 30-60 seconds and the smoke would have gotten to us. If Baby girl hadn’t screamed and woken me up, I would not be here to write these words today. It’s that simple.

So, please. PLEASE! Anyone reading this:

• Make sure you have fire alarms in each and every room of your home. They need to be linked, or you won’t hear them through closed doors.
• Make sure to check your extension cords for overload. Check the max load and don’t plug too many devices to the same wall socket.
• Make sure you know how to get out, even if you’re confused, injured, blinded and suffocating from hot smoke. You will most probably only have a few precious seconds to get everyone out.

Ok, I realise this isn’t really an entertaining post but it is an important one. We were very lucky. Very lucky indeed. I know that I’m not going to chance it and count on being this lucky again. So: Fire alarms. In. Every. Room. Please.

P.S. Thank you all for your kind words and warming thoughts on Twitter and Facebook! It has made this whole ordeal more manageable somehow.

UPDATE: Fiancée informed me that her take on the chain of events was quite different. She was under the impression we were trapped upstairs with no means of getting out. This highlights the importance of fire drills – something I’ll be subjecting my family to on a regular basis from now on!

The classic troll

A proper troll

Being of Scandinavian (well, Fenno-scandian) heritage, I grew up with all the classic tales of trolls and as a little boy I saw them as scary but familiar beings: big, old, powerful, ugly and knowledgeable in the magic arts. (Incidentally, to perform magic is called att trolla in Swedish.)

Later on, I read about the old Norse pagan myths where the Asa-gods Thor, Odin and the others were fighting the giants (jötnar in Norse, jättar in Swedish) in Utgaard. Those giants later became the trolls of the Scandinavian folklore, and were considered very old and wise although often distrustful and hostile towards people.

This is all very well and fascinating in its own right, but what really make trolls such amazing creatures is that they might have been real. Yes, in the disreputable world of cryptozoology, trolls might be an actual real biological species. Obviously, it’s not going to be like the trolls in the Norwegian film The Troll Hunter, but rather a separate species of human beings. Let’s go over the typical characteristics of a troll again:

A classic jötunn - and yes, that's a person standing in front of him

• Old: Trolls are supposed to be the old ones, living in the land many thousand years before modern humans arrived.
• Ugly: Trolls are generally seen as ungainly creatures, with big noses, pronounced eyebrow ridges and low slanted forehead.
• Old-fashioned: Although handy and capable of producing tools and clothes, trolls are generally seen as using crude, obsolete technology, which rarely is a match to modern human counterparts. They are also often depicted with old-fashioned, crude clothing made mainly from animal hides.
• Strong: Trolls have traditionally been endowed with superhuman strength, being able of feats well beyond that of ordinary people. They can carry heavy loads for long distances and withstand a lot of bodily damage without being seriously hurt.
• Wise: Even though not considered geniuses by any stretch of the imagination (rather the opposite, in fact), trolls are believed to possess an old-fashioned kind of wisdom and knowledge in the old magic arts. What these magic arts could have been is obviously open for interpretation, but one could guess they might include particular medicinal knowledge or a knack for predicting the weather, the seasons, the growth patterns of plants and the migration of animals.
• Elusive: always distrustful of humans, and not seldom hostile, trolls tend to keep to themselves, far away from human habitation. In fact, the mere presence of humans often trigger trolls to migrate to even more remote lands.

The old ones

@thebooksluts

It all started with Klout, the social media influence measuring site. @thebooksluts wanted to be shown as influential in Star Trek, and even promised to write a ballad in honour of the person helping her to accomplish this. Being in a good mood and with benign feelings towards my fellow human beings (shut up – it does happen!), I set about to add the topic to her Klout profile. However, no matter how I tried I couldn’t get it to work, not even with the kind assistance of @AmandaStratton.

Even so, @thebooksluts was pleased that we’d tried:

But since @heinakroon tried oh-so-hard to complete the mission, I shall write a ballad anyway. And maybe one about @AmandaStratton.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

This is exciting! I’ve never had a ballad written about me before! What would this ballad be about?

And by "ballad," I actually mean a bunch of facts strung together with no storyline whatsoever. Because it is too early for a poem.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Oh. Ok. Still excited, though! Let the telling begin:

You know that story about the butler in India who found a tiger under the table? That happened to @heinakroon once.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Good start! I’ve been to India, many years ago. And I did see several tigers. Don’t remember if I found one under a table, however? Only monkeys. But it was a long time ago, so I might have done and then forgotten about it.

But unlike the butler, @heinakroon didn't kill the tiger. He tamed it, and now they're best friends. The tiger lets @heinakroon ride him.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Erm..?

(ON THE TIGER'S BACK, you perverts.)—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Best friends

One day, @heinakroon and his tiger and his monkey were all having a spot of tea when a band of marauders appeared in his kitchen.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Well, isn’t that typical! And I like a quiet spot of tea as well. Now I’m getting angry.

When the police arrived, they found that @heinakroon had dispatched them all using a tea towel and kitchen twine. Also, a tiger.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

And don’t forget the monkey! Marauders ignore a monkey with a rolling-pin at their own peril.

.@heinakroon was considered the most desirable hero in all the land. Men and women both flocked to him in hordes, at all hours.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

A desirable hero

But @heinakroon had devised many clever ways of escaping, especially when the person was ugly or whatever. Or rude, or didn't like monkeys.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Who doesn’t like monkeys? Rude ugly people, that’s who.

One night, the queen of a neighboring kingdom was to visit @heinakroon, but she was cruel, and also had roots like you wouldn't believe.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Can she have red hair? I’m going to make her having red hair; badly coloured red hair.

To avoid the cruel, badly-in-need-of-a-color queen, @heinakroon quietly sneaked out, leaving his tiger in bed for the queen to find instead.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Bedroom surprise

The tiger asked @heinakroon to be his best man when he married the queen several weeks later.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Oh! Didn’t see that one coming!

But it was a trap! The queen had used her wiles to trick the tiger to lure @heinakroon to her kingdom. He must marry her or be executed!—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

I hate being executed. It’s one of my pet peeves.

The tiger and @heinakroon had to escape the evil clutches of the cruel queen! But they were locked away in a dungeon until the wedding day.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Locked away

(Btw, @heinakroon totally forgave the tiger for getting him into this mess, because @heinakroon doesn't hold grudges against his besties.)—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

This is true. What’s a death sentence between besties?

(Or his beasties.)—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Or indeed beasties.

One morning, a tailor came to fit @heinakroon for his wedding garments. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was his monkey, in disguise!—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Clever monkey

The monkey, the tiger, and @heinakroon disguised themselves as bakers, with big floppy hats, and were sneaking away when someone saw them!—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Damn it! Just can’t catch a break, can we? What will they do to us now?

Mistaken for the real bakers, the trio was now forced to bake the real wedding cake!—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Baking a whole wedding cake? No pressure then!

But it turned out that @heinakroon had once lived with a gorgeous French baker, and thus, baked the most delicious wedding cake.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Wedding cake

The cake was so delicious that the entire wedding party forgot all about @heinakroon, because they were eating and weeping tears of joy.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Well, lack of attention is highly correlated with gluttony. Everybody knows that.

So @heinakroon, his tiger, and his monkey were able to steal away, with pockets full of treasure, and some cake, because, come on, cake.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Also, we need something for the road – stealing away is hard work.

.@heinakroon decided that he needed a vacation from the heroic life, so he took his tiger and his monkey and sailed off into the sunset.—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Damn right! Breaking out of dungeons and escaping death penalties warrants a holiday for sure.

They landed on a resplendent beach where the pina coladas flowed like wine. And there they stayed for months–but never fear, adventurers!—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Island getaway

One day, @heinakroon will be called back to his hero's life, and the tales of his adventures will travel through the land once more. (fin)—
Insatiable Booksluts (@thebooksluts) January 17, 2012

Wow! That was an awesome ballad! I’m so chuffed to have starred in it! And how accurate it was in all the little details; @thebooksluts sure does know me well.

By the way: you’ll be pleased to hear that @thebooksluts is now influential in Star Trek. All’s well that ends well.

P.S. A big THANK YOU to @thebooksluts for writing this amazing story – and in real-time, no less! That sure is some impressive improvisational skills! I also feel that I must apologise for not having published this until now, several weeks after the event, but Baby Girl demands a lot of my attention. Plus, I’m not an illustrator, so these simple drawings have taken quite some time to finish.

Look how sad I am. Won't you help me find a new pair of glasses?

I need new glasses. This is partly due to the fact that my eye sight has changed and partly that I’ve had my current pair of glasses for more than 14 years now and they’re starting to feel a little worn.

So: down I went to Specsavers to check out some new frames. Unfortunately, even though the walls were plastered with glasses, the selection in store was a little limited (perfectly understandable, as they couldn’t possibly fit all their frames in their display), so I decided to check out their selection online instead.

You know what? Choosing glasses is difficult! It’s right up there with choosing lamps and watches. So many options, and so few that look any good. And so many almost identical ones – what’s up with that?

Additionally, a few of the frames that I had in mind weren’t available. I had hoped to find some 1930′s mad scientist’s glasses (see below), but no such luck. John Lennon frames were also missing. Ah well..

1930s mad scientist glasses - unfortunately not available

In the end I managed to compose a shortlist of four different frames, but for the life of me I can’t decide which (if any) of them would suit me. I want a pair of glasses that work with the shape of my face and that ideally would help make me look like I know what I’m talking about – after all, isn’t that the main purpose of glasses?

So here’s my suggestion: I post pictures of me wearing these glasses (virtually, of course) and you help me choose the best pair. This is called crowdsourcing and it’s the latest and greatest thing in R&D. Deal? What’s that? What’s in it for you? Well, apart from helping a fellow human being and the immense satisfaction that would give you, I can offer you your very own giant killer robot chicken*. Imagine riding one of those babies to work in the morning. Too much traffic? Just step over the cars and keep going. Or, if you’re in a mood, engage the rocket launchers fitted under each wing and blast a clear path through the urban jungle**.

If you are willing, please find below a selection of four Andreas Heinakroons wearing different frames. Each frame is associated with a letter - in the questionnaire panel, select the frame that you think works best (feel free to post a comment explaining your choice). The frame that receives the highest number of votes will be the winner and the frame I will buy. Ready? Ok, here we go:

Frame 'A'	Frame 'B'
Frame 'C'	Frame 'D'

Incidentally, this is my first poll – I hope it works! Also, I’m dead exited about this crowdsourcing thing. It’s the future, I tell you. The future!

Thanks for voting and for helping me decide what glasses I’ll be wearing for the next 14 years.

* The receipt of your own giant killer robot chicken is conditional on Andreas Heinakroon taking over the world and/or coming into possession of giant killer robot chicken technology. No substitute prizes will be available.

** Andreas Heinakroon does not in any way condone the unprovoked use of rocket launchers in order to facilitate commuting. Use an alarm clock and get up in time instead.

Update

It looks like frame ‘A’ is the winner. Good choice, people! I’ll post another update with a real-world picture once I got the new glasses. Thanks again!

Update 2

Due to the house fire, I’ve had to postpone purchasing my new glasses. I’ll keep you posted.

Update 3

The final choice

Verdammt! My procrastination caused the selected frames to no longer being stocked. This has lead me to having to improvise and choose a different pair of glasses. (I hate improvised purchases!) So I ended up with glasses not dissimilar to Frame ‘B’ above.