CONTRASTS

Heavy clouds over my city by the sea

A long week of contrasts is behind me, and all I can say is that I know I'll be entering into a new week just the same, in a few hours.

My life in general is one of contrasts these days, not surprisingly. Joy and sadness, energy and exhaustion, tears and laughter, darkness and light  - they all move along tightly interwoven. Hand in hand. No escaping. Oh yes - I know that most people live like this of course, but my life is even more so now - more than I could ever have imagined.

For the first time in my life I've been in therapy. Well, therapy… I've been to a few sessions with a psychiatrist who works at the hospital where my husband was treated, and this is in fact an offer to relatives of people with a serious cancer diagnosis.

The surprising novelty and experience of a therapy session for me is that I can just TALK. Talk and talk - and she'll just nod and confirm or agree to the things I say. In normal conversation there's more of a give-and-take situation - you say something, your conversation partner says something - in short it's what we call a dialogue. You actually meet some resistance, you're contending! What I have with the therapist is definitely not dialogue. But I like it - I perceived straight away that this was useful for me.

Norwegian Arctic cod - Skrei - which migrates to the north of Norway between January and April, and tastes heavenly! Served with a sweet/sour cucumber salad, carrots and a creamy butter sauce

Shoulder of lamb, oven-braised for hours till it falls off the bone

First ever attempt at Key Lime Pie - it was delicious! Even if I didn't travel to Key West, FLA to pick those special limes

One of the topics of "conversation" with the therapist has been my frustration over other people's well-meaning advice. They are so eager to convey this to me that they start shouting at me. Being extremely vulnerable at the moment there's only so much I can take of loud voices telling me to get a move on with my husband's illness. "He's losing weight - you've GOT to make him eat properly - cook this, cook that - super berries, yogurt, no sugar, no wheat, no fat, no BLAH-BLAH-BLAH!" What do they think I do? They must know this is my main worry, my overall goal - to try to increase his appetite and get him to put on weight. Every day I cook the most delicious meals. But most of the time the food doesn't even tempt him. How can they have a single doubt that I'm not doing my best?

And maybe the worst one: "Cancer cures itself! NEVER do chemo or radiotherapy - they are poison and will only make things worse! Eat baking soda instead!" Okay. Did we have a choice? I don't think so. Thanks for feeding my already burdened conscience.

Another recurring one is: "You're so resourceful - you've got to keep trying with the medicine programmes - the vaccine, the Swedish study! Call the doctors, put pressure on the researchers! Make contact - go to the MEDIA! Tell them how useless the cancer researchers are, sue the doctor who didn't discover the right diagnosis in August! Change to another doctor!" No, I'm not going to front anything in the public media - no, I'm not going to sue anyone - no, I'm not going to force myself on researchers. I don't have the strength for this at the moment, let alone that type of personality. I can write a poignant email or two, simply to get things off my chest, which I did the other day to my husband's general practitioner - one of the doctors who in fact didn't realise that his condition was serious back in August, after a nauseous 24-hour dizziness that in hindsight was clearly a forewarning. Having written an email to the doctor, and knowing that he took it seriously - inviting us both straight away to a consultation and being very decent and forthcoming - my husband and I both put his "mistake" behind us. I need to focus on positive things, and not let the negative experiences grind me down.

Unfortunately we can't reverse time.

And my mission now is to make our everyday life work. To create and maintain some happiness for me and my family.

BUT - most of the beautiful friends and family that surround us provide us with incredible sympathy and good sound advice. As I say - the frustrating advice is probably well meant and springs out of a genuine wish to help.

Yet another snowfall - Mother & Daughter making the most of it. If you can't beat 'em - join 'em! (The snowflakes that is)

This week has been half-term school winter holiday in our part of the nation, but with my granddaughter's broken knee it was impossible for us to travel to the mountain cabin. Pretty primitive as it is and completely snowed down, she wouldn't even have made it from the parking space a hundred metres away to the front door. I've seen photos of people almost not finding their cabins underneath all the snow!

New cast - pink this time! And just having written the most wonderful fantasy essay for school!

Instead I've spent some time with my granddaughters here in my city - lucky me! I love them endlessly. And their mother - we've cooked together this week, talked, laughed, watched a crazy old series on TV that we only paid 9 kroner for (1 pound, or less than 2 dollars), and that I laughed madly at 10 years ago. (I still did). We've been shopping in Sweden, - and most important of all we've been following the Olympic Winter Games in Sotchi. The medal count shows that our tiny little country came second - in between the huge nations - Russia, Canada and the USA. Our fabulous boys and girls did us proud!

Gold, silver and bronze to the girls yesterday! Medal presentation at the closing ceremony this evening in front of thousands of spectators. How great is that?! Would YOU have been able to run on skis across 30 kilometres of up-and-downhills?

DAY OF HEARTS

Heart gift from granddaughter Mira

1989 - I think?

I've never been particularly romantic - on the contrary I find romanticism slightly soppy, sentimental and tiresome. In fact my husband is marginally more romantic than me, and he has been known to bring me flowers and gifts and invite me to a candlelit dinner or two. But not often! I am impatient with romantic guys - "Get to the point for heavens' sake!" Or something to that effect. I remember my daughter Julie at seventeen, spotting from the window her boyfriend approaching carrying high a long-stemmed red rose. Her spontaneous reaction: "Oh no! I can't believe he's bringing me a rose! Puke!" So the non-romanticism might be hereditary?

Though I might have shed a tear or two over a love story - on film or in the theatre, or a beautiful poem, or most of all music. I often cry a bit at concerts actually, but I think that's because music is incredibly important to me and I find it very emotional and moving. 

And I know for certain I'll cry at my daughter Julie's wedding in July. Oh yes. No doubt. And so will the unromantic bride.

An interior detail from my one of my favourite restaurants in France, - Le Gecko at Camélas

Oooo - made of chocolate! Fill it with champagne, please!

A must-have! A craving! A romantic meal! Tempura salad at neighbourhood restaurant Jonathan Sushi

Here is your favourite blogger posting romantic pictures at length - of hearts and roses, of young couples and aphrodisiac food. Hmmm, well….. only once a year. That's a promise!

One thing which is definitely NOT romantic in this Northernmost Outpost of the Globe at the moment is the weather. I honestly can't believe I'm actually surviving this winter without entering into a psychosis. It goes from rain to snow to hail to slush - and then back again to rain. What helps me through at the moment is the medal gathering that the Norwegian Olympic Team are doing in Sochi. My husband and I are saying to each other: "It's actually good that they don't win EVERYTHING." Oooo - ugly statement!! But we mean it - honestly.

View from my window yesterday

View from outside my swim & gym club this afternoon - usually a breathtaking view of the Oslo Fjord. Fjord? What fjord?

Then I think of my friends in Britain and Ireland and the devastating and destructive storms and floods they're experiencing these days - and endless rain for weeks and weeks - and I think… we're lucky after all.

My lovely granddaughter Jelena broke her knee at a dancing contest a week ago and here she is in her signed and decorated purple cast - from foot to thigh. I feel so incredibly sorry for her. She is such an active girl and seeing her like this breaks my heart. I'm amazed that she's so stoic about it - but if you have no choice you adjust, I suppose. I'm full of admiration. Half term holidays are coming up next week, and our planned trip to the mountain cabin is just not going to become a reality.

Not even once today remembering that it was Valentine's Day, I still happened to buy myself a pink flowering plant, in anticipation of an approaching spring? I noticed that one flower fell off and dropped to the ground as I pulled the plant out of the car. When returning to the car half an hour later to drive to the gym I was so overcome by that pink coloured little beauty on the wet tarmac, next to the parked car, that it almost brought tears to my eyes.

But no….  I'm definitely not romantic. Or sentimental. Only a bit moved out of my orbit sometimes….

PLEASE SUN - DIAL ME!

This is a sundial in the Vigeland Park - also known as "My Park" to those of you who've read my blog already. The light behind the sundial is definitely not the sun. This is the sun (I think):

The reason I say I think it's the sun, is because when it appeared briefly on the 3rd February, it was such a long time since I'd seen it that I really couldn't believe my eyes. I was almost blinded by the strong light! Endless grey days of snow, sleet and rain take their toll on me, and I truly think it's enough now. But at least I've become an expert on snow ploughs this winter - with great assistance from my friend Ellen - and learnt to differentiate between the various types, and also at what time of day - or night - they make their performance. They dance around as gracefully as any ballet dancers, shuffling and shovelling and shifting the snow masses with the lightness and ease of a prima ballerina. 

And lately I've heard there's a rumour going around in the Snow Plough circles that there's a crazy woman taking photos of them at all hours…..

The Pavement Plough

The Day Plough, small - possibly a New Holland

The Night Plough - possibly a Valtra - with a glass door

Two Fendts dancing a duet

I've recently had some days of such psychological stress and turmoil I honestly didn't think it was possible. Suddenly it struck me that moving on the 1st September - as we're supposed to do, having bought our new flat one and a half years ago - packing up and putting our house on the market after Easter, then arranging Julie's wedding in July (fantastically happy story though, but it doesn't arrange itself) - it's all just going to be too much for me. So I called the constructors to ask them how I could instead put the still unfinished flat on the market, and the answer was pretty discouraging. It strikes me how incredibly friendly and eager they are when they sell, and how disgustingly hostile and unwilling they are to help when you want to get out of a deal, even with overwhelmingly good reasons. 

Well, anyway - things were worse than I ever expected - it seems they will have finished the flats three to four months ahead of time, that is May/June as opposed to what we were predicted. Which again means they'll want their money then, which means our house will have to be sold - like NOW. Preferably yesterday…. I told the woman at the constructor's office (she was the one who sold us the flat): "Thanks for making me nauseous and pretty much pushing me into deep depression." I also mentioned to her that we would never have purchased and moved into a new place this year if we'd known of my husband's illness, and she actually said she understood that.

Well, I'm basically an optimistic and dynamic person - and the deep depression threat was maybe slightly exaggerated - and a few conversations with good friends convinced me that I'll receive help from EVERYWHERE - to pack, to style the house, to move - if it turns out we can't get out of the contract in any easy way. 

Watching the annual International Holmenkollen Ski Jumping Contest in March 1983. Unwittingly pregnant with my first baby.

Cross country skiing in Hemsedal Easter 1983 - still unwittingly pregnant with my first baby

While writing this I've got an eye on the opening ceremony of the Olympic Winter Games in Sochi, and, at the same time as thinking there's a lot to be said about this and Russia, I'm such a sports enthusiast that I can't help being excited! And Norway is a winter sports nation above everyone else! My daughter Sophie is already doing a great job of clearing out stuff, and she found the above photos yesterday. Just goes to prove that at least I used to be a winter sports enthusiast!

But most of all I enjoy a quiet walk in my park. Winter or summer. Spring or autumn. Cold weather, warm weather. Happy or sad. Weak or strong. Alone or in company. Sundial working - or not.