torsdag, april 27, 2017

Autobiography, memoir or novel?


Illustration: Susanna Kajermo Törner

A while back I took a notion that I would tell the story about the kind of childhood that my brothers and I had in the 50s in Finland.  My brothers are no more. I am the only one left so I had to catch this fast fading childhood by the tail and pull it back if I wanted to make a record of it.
But would it be an autobiography or a memoir?
Hardly an autobiography because such mighty tomes are written by men of national or international importance. A memoir then?  Tove Jansson's Moominpappa says that if you are a 'father of a family and an owner of a house' you can poise your memoir-pen and start. He also says 'Everyone, of whatever walk of life, who has achieved anything good in this world, or think he has, should, if he be truth-loving and nice, write about his life,  albeit not starting before the age of forty'. It sounds as if it could be a convoluted and lengthy business.
It will have to be a novel I thought. It would give me the freedom to boil down many samey events to one intense event. And by tweaking the story a little  I could give it a better structure. But my story would still be true in its essence.
And all the paper I would save! 

fredag, mars 10, 2017

My Amazing Mother

Every weekend I ring my amazing mother. Not only is she 92 which is amazing in itself but she can also DO stuff, for example she can talk to anybody without having a shared language. One Sunday(this was when she was only in her eighties) during her brief visit in Dublin with her pal she said they were off to church. My husband offered to drive them to the Lutheran church in Adelaide road. No need, she said we're going to the local church. My mother does not know about the Reformation and the schism and even if she did she wouldn't give a hoot I suspect. And did I mention she doesn't have a word of English?

Anyway, the two ladies came back about three hours later a bit giggly. I asked them where had they been. My mother said that after the lovely service everyone seemed to be heading in the same direction so they followed. Turned out they all went to the pub. Going from God's house to a public house seemed a bit strange, mother mused, couldn't happen at home.  But they sat down with the ladies who ordered lemonade and mother and friend did the same.  Mother and her friend were offered something stronger from the naggins that the ladies had in their handbags. And time just flew, my mother giggled.
The next time we took her to the pub she spotted her 'friends' as she called them and ran up to them and embraced and had an animated 'conversation' in god knows what language. Esperanto?

That is the kind of brilliant social skills my mother has and I don't. Must have skipped a generation.  I'm green with envy.  

söndag, februari 19, 2017

Dirty Dublin Strip Cartoons





Dirty Dublin Strip Cartoons! My first cartoon book. Published by In Dublin and Ward River Press 1982. Sold for £2.95. Remaindered at £1.49. I should have bought them all!
Because now they sell at between $25.57 - $240.15 on the net. (Why would you pay $240.15 when you can get a copy for $25.57? There's another thing I don't understand).

This book sold like hot cakes initially so Ward River printed another shipload of them . That shipload didn't sell at all. And Parsons Bookshop, the famous literary landmark and the centre of bohemian Dublin, refused to stock it. I was told by a 'friend' that the two famous ladies who ran the shop thought I should go back to my own country and mock my own people.
Would that it were that I had my very own country!


 

lördag, januari 28, 2017

End of dog blog





The marvels of modern technology! I haven't been able to access my blog for yonks&years. But now I'm back on the blog, glory be and thanks to my IT-genius! It took him nearly the whole day to get it back so it wasn't a simple task.
 My dog has been a bad dog in the meantime (=while I have been on blog silent)  She got into a row in the park with a Yorkshire terrier over a biscuit and somehow nearly tore the tail off the unfortunate yorkie. We have now been barred from the company of the lap dogs. Or I barred us. Can't afford to have tails stitched back on too often, what with the price of vet's fees. We both miss the camaraderie of the dog gang and their 'mums'.
The vet thinks that my little fluffy dog goes into 'pseudo heat' every so often because she may have retained a bit of ovary even though she has been spayed. Or she may have a third ovary. (Too much information?) She has 'hormonal problems' and can be a bit of a b****


onsdag, oktober 22, 2014

Home sick


How long have I lived in Ireland? Lightyears! At least 30 years anyway (And don't start about lightyears being a measure of distance, not time. You know what I mean, dear pedantic reader).

Anyway people still ask me if I am homesick:
'Are you homesick?'
'..eh  mumble..mumble..I have been here thirty years...more than thirty years'
'Then you must be really homesick!'

But I am not homesick. I live here now. My home that was is gone. It is in the past. I can't go back. This is my home now. I have no other home to go back to.

But my dogged well wishers will not let go:
'Must be terrible for you not have a home to go back to'

This is very Irish. Swedes don't (usually) ask their foreigners if they are home sick because Swedes are a confident people. They think if somebody has the good fortune to be washed up on their shores that person must surely feel so lucky that they will never pine for anywhere else ever again.
(Also they are not that into to intrusive small talk. They don't ask and they don't want to know).

fredag, oktober 17, 2014

Small dog does pee on pavement!

Long time-no dog blog!
So much to tell, so many dog days...where to begin? As I told you before people know you by your dog. You get a lot of attention because of your dog and most of the time the attention is welcome but sometimes not.
The other day my dog did a pee on the pavement. A householder rapped on his window from the inside moving his lips and shaking his fist. I stood to attention then spread my arms palms up. What did he want me to do?
 Lick it up?
Honestly.

måndag, oktober 15, 2012

What I do all day


Every week I ring a certain older female relative in Sweden. I do this every week and we "shoot the breeze" and talk about nothing much mostly. Last time she put a question to me: "What am I to tell people when they ask me what you do with yourself all day ?"
Now there's a question!

SHE knows of course that I do nothing all day but what is she to tell people? Here's the answer: I do what Picasso did all day. Except I don't have the talent. Or the money.

Still it is nice that people in Sweden are asking about me.