Cheese please

(please read this blog in 0.5x the regular speed you would read it at)

I'm so excited I could eat my own head!!

I'm having breakfast for dinner! No, wait, that deserves two exclamation marks!! I'm having breakfast for dinner!! I LOVE having breakfast for dinner! I'm going to have bread and cheese and yoghurt. Norwegian cheese... Now there's an interesting cheese they do here in Norway, it's brown in colour and tastes a little bit peculiar. But I like it. If anyone would like to try some, let me know and I'll bring some back to the UK, but you have to pick it up from me in Nottingham, this isn't a dog damn delivery service!! Jeez. Here's a picture of the cheese (strawberries have to be bought separately as far as I know):

This isn't the cheese I'm having for dinner though, I'm not feeling that adventurous! My cheese is called something else and is regular cheese colour but it's all the way out in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom because my laptop is charging. Actually, I'm pretty hungry, I think I'm gonna go to the kitchen and make my breakfast dinner. Please hold....................................... (Oh, btw, I'm going to see Prometheus in 3D tomorrow evening, fyi. Keep holding.)

Right, I'm back! The cheese I'm now eating is good old Jarlsberg. And the yoghurt I bought turned out to not be yoghurt at all but some kind of drink. It doesn't taste great and the whole dinner has now turned into a bit of an anti climax. Still, got Martini for dessert! Are you supposed to keep Martini in the fridge?

So, now that I've finished my dinner, I would like to discuss automatic doors. You know, the sliding ones. Actually, doesn't have to be the sliding ones. Do you think they're priced according to how quickly they open? If so, the doors here in Oslo must be really cheap (x3 for Norway prices). Personally, I think that automatic doors should be rated according to how fast you would have to run to bang in to it. Perhaps in kph rather than mph so it can be universal. Hmm, but I don't know how fast I walk in kph, so I'd have to convert... At the airport I reckon we have doors rated 3 - they're pretty crappy and slow and I often have to stop abruptly to not walk into them (I know, seems strange to think I haven't, huh?). But on the other hand, shopping centres tend to have faster ones, maybe even a 7 or 8-rated door. Perhaps the sensors are directed further away.

Automatic doors can be quite scary, especially if they start to close on you as you're walking through. Always makes me jump. In fact, at the airport yesterday I think I flew about an inch (2.54cm) into the air when the little barrier in the airlock started closing on me. It's quite noisy and very fast. Ok, it's not really an airlock, obviously, but there's a bit just before you go into the baggage hall that's the point of no return. Brussels and Copenhagen airport have them too. Haven't seen any in Heathrow or Birmingham, but they have those freaky e-passport gates, and they have scary barriers too.

So if you regularly have to go through automatic doors, maybe at work, maybe at your local shop, please could test their rating, in kph? That would be great, thanks.

Lastly, saw these guys this morning:

Aaaawwww... (any Swedish-speaking people will probably find 'gratis klemmer' amusing.)

The Rise and Fall of the Invisibility Cloak

Hello there.

It's 17:30. I'm at the airport in Oslo. I've been here since about 15:30 and my flight leaves at 21:05. I decided to arrive that early because a) I'd completed my day's work, and b) there's a strike on by the security guards at the airport. The expected queuing time through security was 1 hour and 15 minutes. It took me 40 minutes.

I knew there was a strike on; it was supposed to start on Friday morning at 06:00, which is why I got there at 05:07, but it didn't start until 20:00 that evening. It's now a week later and still there has been no resolution to the talks. But who cares!? As long as I get to see my Bumbler, I don't care who's on strike! Call me selfish, or a shell fish for that matter, but that's who I am. Kajsa "Shell fish" Tylen. Yeah, so where was I? Right, I knew there was a strike on so I logged on to the airport webcam (http://www.osl.no/osl/omoss/_presse/_webkamera) where I closely monitored the queue situation from work. The picture is sent every 15 seconds, which means all sorts of possibly hilarious situations, but they're not hilarious if nobody is watching as I found when I got to the airport. Kirsti had probably gone home and I couldn't think of anyone else to annoy. Ha, but I could watch myself on my phone! Which turns out to not be as much fun as I was expecting. If someone was watching I could've hidden in various places with just one body part showing, and the person watching had 15 seconds to figure out where I was before I moved to the next place. But instead I decided to do some planking. If you're not familiar with planking, you might want to read this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Planking_(fad)

So, my plan was to go in to the clear area in the middle of the webcam screen, and plank. I was phyched up and ready for action when I arrived, but when I got there, I realised there were quite a few people about and I lost my nerve. This was the best I could do:

That's me on the floor in the middle of your screen.

But I needn't have worried!! Turns out I'm invisible!! Except to the webcam of course. I joined the security queue at the back, as honest people do, but kept getting overtaken by a woman. Of course, I can't stand for that kind of behaviour so I started blocking her. But turns out she, and her travelling partner (who I don't think was her lover but I reckon he wanted to be), couldn't see me. Why else would they repeatedly walk into my gorgeous little suitcase? But in true 'silent war' style, I because to become very unpredictable with my bag, and sometimes it just happened to roll back and squish some toes. But still, it continued relentlessly. I wondered if I might be wearing my invisibility cloak - it sometimes falls on top of me when I least expect it.

Anyhoo, we had been at the silent war for about 20 minutes or so when we queued in an open area, and someone tried to sneak in infront of me (don't think he saw me either). Well, this was more than I would accept! I said to the chap: "excuse me, the queue is over there", while pointing to where myself and the annoying couple behind me joined the queue. The man had been BUSTED!! He quickly folded into a posture of embarrassment and skulked off. The man in front of me in the queue (who's bag I had not kicked once during the entire queuing period, fyi) turned round, looked at me, and said "good call". Not just once, but twice. Well, well, well, seems like my cloak fell off during my confrontation with 'Sneaky'. And the couple behind me said "well done" and stopped kicking my bag. It was a proud moment. :)

No, what does one do in an airport for four and a half hours (other than write a ridiculously long blog about naff-all)? Shopping of course!! Except I'm not shopping at the moment, I'll get my ass kicked by my BFF if I go shopping. So instead I tried some sun glasses on. Here are a few of my favourites:

When I say 'my favourites', I mean 'the biggest glasses I could find'.

Now I'm bored. I've eaten (pizza), played Rumble, and listened to numerous screaming children, and now I'm bored. I don't mean I'm bored of writing this blog, I find it very therapeutic, but just bored of being at these airport. And I'm bored of listening to the guy on the tannoy telling everyone that "this is the last and final call for passengers [insert random passenger names] to join flight [insert random destination]". Twice.

Dresses and tea

Hello.

Fancy seeing you here.

I'm currently in Oslo - just arrived. Left the house a content lady and now I'm all worried. You see, I hired a guy to sort out my back garden (if I posted that on Facebook it would get all sorts of rude comments), and I believe him now to be a less than honest fellow. Not that he's told me any lies, other than the time it would take to do the work, but that's minor. Anyway, I've now left the country, this man is in my garden, and I'm afraid of what might disappear from my rather large shed - specifically my bike. I should've known better, nobody honest starts every sentence with "te be oonest wit ya".

I had to travel from Heathrow again today, and on British Airways rather than the usual SAS (Scandinavian Airlines Systems - what systems?). Initially I wasn't pleased, and I guess I'm still not, because it means no Eurobonus points for this week and you know how keen I am to get my Gold Membership, but it was a rather nice experience. Terminal 5 is lovely, and I didn't think I'd been there before because I entered from the other end of the terminal, and things look different from a different angle, but I have indeed been there. I resisted the shops and just bought food. A huge step forward. I waited in the main terminal until I found out what gate I was at and then proceeded to gate C52, via a shuttle (ha, wrote shittle to start with - should've left it). I was second at the gate, and it hadn't opened yet so I stood watching the traffic jam to the runway.

Is it still a traffic jam if it isn't cars? Yes, of course it is, as in air traffic... Eejit. As I was watching, a Singapore Airlines Airbus A380 was waiting in line. If you look carefully at the picture, you'll see it. It was HUGE!! Compared to the A380, the other planes were teeny tiny! You wouldn't mess with an A380 down a dark alley, I can tell you! It's awesome. And now I really want to go in one. When it finally took off, everyone, including the ground staff at the airport, watched it. That's how awesome it is.

So, I managed to be FIRST on the flight today! Very exciting indeed. I was so adamant to prove that I wouldn't hold the rest of the passengers up so I threw my bag into the overhead locker, trapping my finger. It didn't hurt at first but a few seconds passed and it because excruciating. To the point where several f-words exited my mouth in rapid succession, whilst I was flailing my hand about like it was on fire. The man that had entered the plane behind me was extremely amused by this behaviour. "Sorry!" I shouted at him as he giggled down the plane. I think it still hurts, but I can't remember what finger it was, so I can't be sure, could just be muscle ache.

Hey, I'm going to a party tomorrow with work! Brought two dresses to choose from and I need a vote. Dress A (the one on the left) or Dress B (the one on the right, if my powers of deduction are correct)?

Dress A is a bit more conservative, but Dress B is more comfortable, but the shoes are much higher and I'm afraid it might be a bit 'sexy' for a work do. Anyhoo, let me know what you think.

So, and I promise this is the last bit, I sat down in my seat (8F) and a good looking chap came and sat one seat away from me (8D). I decided I would attempt to make a bit of small talk... So I broke the ice by asking him if we get food on the flight. He replied yes, to which I responded by making a fist and bringing my elbow in to my side and exclaiming "awesome!". Like I'd never eaten before. Then, when the stewardess came by with drinks and snacks, I asked for tea and placed it on the tray table that belonged to the seat between the two of us. I pointed at the tray table and told the guy next to me that he could share it if he wanted to, it was no problem. Unfortunately, I think he thought I meant that he could share my tea...... He hastily said "no, thank you". I then figured I should rectify the situation so I joked "you do know I meant the table, not the tea, right? But if you really want tea, you can have some". He looked at me as if I was weird and responded by offering me some of his snack. I really wanted one of his snacks, because they looked rather unappetising, and I wanted to know if they were or not, but I had to say no.

I decided to leave him alone after that.