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?

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.

torsdag, oktober 04, 2012

Am I dreaming?

I have my old "job" back!
Yesterday my newspaper rang and said they had resurrected  the cartoon page.
So I rise again from the ashes like Phoenix.  I stand up from the heap of ashes, where I have been sitting like Job scratching my sores with a potsherd. So weird.
 Maybe I am dreaming and the sleeping mind have lured me into a "wish fulfillment" dream. Soon I will wake up and say: "I dreamt that I got my old job back drawing the old Tuula cartoon, isn't that weird".
What was it the the philosopher said again: Am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a philosopher- or is the other way round?
Anyway, now I have to draw the cartoon again, damn it.
Unless I wake up.

tisdag, september 11, 2012

So good bye then, Job!

The dogs in the street don't know it yet but I have lost my job!

 As a freelance cartoonist one could say that I never had "a job". But like all freelancers I cherished the weekly assignment that I could rely on being there, week after week. I had my Tuula strip. It was my rock in an uncertain world, my lodestar.
 The pay wasn't all that great but it was steady work and it gave my week a shape, a routine.
My routine: Monday to Thursday pursuing various interests&avenues and drawing for fun if no other assignment had turned up, Friday panicking, Saturday seriously panicking and drawing the strip, Sunday panicking some more and changing my mind and drawing it again.
 That kind of routine.

So good bye, Tuula! What next? The plans are brewing...

fredag, augusti 24, 2012

Mother of Dog

 I quote from the Control of Dogs Act 1986:

"Owner" in relation to a dog includes the occupier of any premises where the the dog is kept or permitted to live or remain at any particular time unless such occupier proves to the contrary. Provided always that where there is more than one dwelling in any house, the occupier of the dwelling in which the dog is kept, or is permitted to live or remain, shall, until the contrary is proved, be presumed to be the owner.

Is that perfectly clear? Is that chilling enough? I am the dog's owner. The dog is my property. I own the piece of walking, barking fluff at the end of the lead.

The Swedes have the perfect words for the special relationship between man/woman and dog. Or rather the role the human has in this relationship. The words are  "Matte" (fem.) or "Husse" (masc.) Husse is derived from "husbonde" and "Matte" from "matmor" (matmoder). The words describe somebody who provides food and shelter, care, warmth, comfort and affection.

When I look for a translation in my dictionary I find "Master" and "Mistress". Not the same thing at all. A "Master" indicates overpowering bossiness rather than caring and loving. And "Mistress"?....a bit too much loving perhaps? Too medieval?

M. in the dog park calls me the dogs "Mum". "Mum"?! Mother?  The very idea of giving birth to a dog...please!

No, only the Swedes have the word for it. I am "Matte".

tisdag, augusti 14, 2012

Dog Days

I don't know if I am cut out for dog ownership. A person accompanied by a dog attracts attention. Mostly of a welcome and friendly kind. But sometimes a dog triggers aggression from a certain kind of individual.
The other day my dog was sniffing a lamp post. I hear an angry voice.
-I hope you are PICKING UP after that dog!
-I am! I say and to demonstrate that my promise is not just empty words I put my hand in my pocket and show him the black plastic bag that I will use. I am both willing and able to do a clean up. Any time. I feel smug. I smile.
The elderly man glares at me.
- The place is a MESS!!!!

This is when I get an attack of mixed feelings. Despair is one. Also anger. Mostly murderous anger. I want to shout: "YOU are a MESS, you stupid old ********!!!!!"

But I don't. I walk away. My day is ruined.