STEP BACK IN TIME: Flashbacks 47 - 50 (Part 1) now online!

Click on SEPTEMBER 2003 to read:-
- FLASHBACK #47: New Apartment, New Job, New City

Click on NOVEMBER 2003 to read:-
- FLASHBACK #48: A Birth Worth Waiting For!

Click on DECEMBER 2003 to read:-
- FLASHBACK #49: A Date With Santa (The Real One!)
- FLASHBACK #50: Part 1: Christmas in UK & A Visit To Bath

KYLIE: Happy Birthday, Kylie!

It's the one-and-only Kylie Minogue's birthday today.

Happy birthday, gorgeous. Look forward to seeing you back on the circuit soon, strutting your stuff the way only you know how! Everyone is a J-Lo wannabe compared to you!

Check out her site: http://www.kylie.com/

NORMAL LIFE: Harry Potter Sadness

With Bree away this weekend visiting his parents, I made an effort to finish reading my copy of Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince, the sixth book in the series. I'm not avid fan of the Potter series, but I have read them all. This book was rather slow compared to the previous five, full of sex and love as the characters slowly come of age during their 6th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

However, the last 100 pages was the best. When the Dark Mark appeared over Hogwarts itself, doom was imminent, as predicted by the bizarre Professor Trelawney.

However, the death of a leading character and the revealing of certain alliances made for an eagerly awaited 7th book. Hopefully we won't have to wait long.

Another reason for wanting to finish reading Harry Potter 6 is to start reading a book I bought recently in England. It's the story of a Sudanese girl who was 'sold' as a slave to a family in London. I actually saw the 'slave' herself, Mende Nazer, in a department store in Helsinki last summer, publicising the release of her book. And now I managed to law my hands on the English version.

NORMAL LIFE: Religious Holidays & Religious Movies

I confess: I'm an atheist! Last night I went to see the eagerly awaited Hollywood adaptation of Dan Brown's best-selling novel, the Da Vinci Code. The book was fantastic while the film was a huge disappointment, perhaps owing to Dan Brown's extraordinary ability to describe things that cannot be easily conveyed into film. Rather surprisingly, Tom Hanks' performance was one of his worst ever and part of me just wanted the French unknown who starred alongside him to cry or smile or something! Then again, she was French so we shouldn't expect too much emotion to be displayed.

A work of fiction, the book claims that the holy grail is in fact Mary Magdelane and not the cup that was drank from during the Last Supper. Damning evidence shows that, in the last Last Supper painting, there are no cups. In addition, the person sitting to the left of Jesus looks convincingly female. The book claims that Mary Madgelane became Jesus' wife and that she bore a child. I'm like, yeah, and? The Catholic Church, meanwhile, made Mary Magedelane out to be a prostitute in order to dispute the possible truth that, somewhere out there, is a descendent of Jesus Christ himself. Such a thing would be unacceptable for the Chruch to stomach for Jesus was righteous and pure. Basically, the Church's stance is that if a guy fancies a poke, suddenly he's dirty and evil! Give me strenth!

And then I woke up this morning and was confronted by the fact that it was Ascension Day, the day that commemorates the ascending of Jesus' body to Heaven following his Resurrection. Again, I'm like so what? This all happened 2,000-odd years ago so why are we still so desperate to hang onto it? Instead of hanging onto the belief of a better afterlike or a better life n the next world, why don't we focus on the one we have got and make this one a better place?

The first account of the Ascension can be found in the Gospel of Mark (16:14-19); Jesus and the remaining eleven Disciples are seated at a table and Jesus commands his followers to spread the Gospel. He said that those who believe will be invulnerable to poison and be able to heal the sick and the like and, after delivering these final words, Jesus was received into Heaven. In the Gospel of Luke (24:50-51), it was claimed that Jesus led the eleven to Bethany, not far from Jerusalem. While in the act of blessing them, Jesus was carried up to Heaven. In both Gospels, the Ascension took place immediately after the Ressurection.

However, in the Acts of the Apostles (1:9-12), it is claimed that for forty days after the Resurrection, Jesus continued to preach the Gospel. Jesus and the eleven were gathered near Mt. Olivet, to the northeast of Bethany. Jesus tells disciples that they will receive the power of the Holy Spirit and that they will spread his message the world over. Meanwhile, in the Gospel of Matthew, it is claimed that Jesus merely commanded the Disciples to spread the Gospel. No reference was made to the Ascension.

What are we to believe? Given that most of the people who live in the region where Jesus lived insist on blowing themselves up these days, were these disciples really of sound mind? Why should we, in the Western World, turn to Jerusalem for guidance and seek salvation? If anything, belief in such has led to nothing but violence worldwide. And, to this day, the violence and clash of faiths continues. Ultimately, we should ask ourselves who wins?

NORMAL LIFE: Trust Me, I’m A Surgeon!

Well, sort of! I just got back from a five-hour visit to an operating room where I saw live open-heart surgery. By god, what an experience! I scrubbed up and, donning a white pair of surgical trousers, a very flattering tight white surgical t-shirt and a mask, watched an apprehensive patient get wheeled into theatre.

The patient was set up with an IV line and then the anesthesia was administered. Once the patient’s blood pressure and BIS rate was low enough, an arterial line was set up on the inside of the arm; the purpose of this was to ‘invasively’ monitor the blood pressure throughout the procedure. The insertion of these rather long and deep needles was the worst part of the whole procedure, but nothing could have prepared me for the insertion of the central line which is inserted through bottom of the neck and, catching on the flow of the blood, is dragged into the left side of the heart. Satisfied, the anesthesiologist then proceeded to insert a one metre-long ultrasound device down the patients throat and all the way into the stomach; the purpose of this was to monitor the stomach from beneath the heart throughout the procedure.

Spurred on by my bravery thus far, I watched as the surgeons literally began to slice and dice – I watched them cut open the chest down to the ribs. My first thought wasn’t regarding the blood because I expected to see blood; it was more like look at all the yellow gruesome fat! As they burned and sliced their way through the tissue, the smell of burning flesh was a little bit of a surprise. By then came the sawing away of the ribs, followed by the spreading of the ribs!

Beneath the ribs, you could see the pulsating heart. It was wonderful to see the thing that hurts so badly - quite bizarrely - when you fall in and out of love. The surgeons made some final cuts before reaching the organ itself. The amazing moment came when the machines took over, willing the heart to cease beating; the surgeons had inserted pipes to collect the blood from the heart and also installed pipes to pump the blood back into the heart. With the heart now still, the monitor all went flatline. Ventilators were keeping the lungs inflated and the bypass machine containing litres of blood replaced the function of the heart, keeping the tissues and the brain oxygenated.

The surgeons could now dig deeper and there task was to insert a new valve to prevent the bad blood circulation that the patient was suffering one. During the whole procedure, I was less than one metre away from the open cavity and, still, the most spine-tingling part of the procedure had been the insertion of the IV and Arterial lines. How bizarre is that?

The experience reminded me a little bit of an advert I saw on British Television many years ago, promoting the National Health Service. The purpose of the advertising was to illustrate just how many people put us back together again when we are cared for. In the operating theatre this morning, there were two surgeons, an assistant surgeon, an anesthesiologist, several nurses and other assistants and this doesn’t even include the recovery personnel or ward staff. Imagine how many people really do take care of us! Even more amazingly, I had witnessed something that my father had been through and to see him still with us today now that I know what the procedure involves amazes me! He truly is a walking miracle.

NORMAL LIFE: Eurovision Madness In Athens!

Eurovision, a key date in any music-loving gay man's diary! Once again, the song contest has left me feeling deflated, my beloved mother tongue used to the advantage of 20-odd non-English speaking nations. This year's result was nothing short of shocking!

On the one hand, I'm proud to be living in a nation that has won the contest for the first time EVER! Yes, Finland triumphed against 37 countries; only 24 countries made it through to last night's final in Athens which, as with the Olympics in 2004, did a fantastic job! On the other hand, they hardly won by being normal. The Finnish entry, a heavy metal band called Lordi, unleashed it's anthem, Hard Rock Halleluja.

Use of the word Lordi has been hailed as sacrilege by an orthodox clergyman in Helsinki with Greece having voiced similar concerns prior to the contest. Meanwhile, Finnish online chat rooms have been full of comments from people concerned about their country's reputation abroad. They should not only be concerned for Finland's reputation, but also the reputation of the contest. Traditionally full of disco and heart-rending ballads, my personal fear is that Lordi's popularity may set a new trend meaning that this contest is no longer a show about singing, but appearances and perceptions.

For as long as I can remember, the scores awarded by individual nation's tend to be related somewhat to alliances, be it political or historical. Who can remember Gemini's performance in 2003, rewarded with not one point, a clear indication of bad feeling towards Britain's participation in the US-led Iraqi invasion. Slowly, we are scratching our way out of the gutter. I mean, this year we got a massive 25 points (versus Finland's 292 points), ending up at 19th place!

Overall, though, the quality of the contest was a big improvement over previous years although I have to say that the J-Lo butt-shaking is getting old and the rap-based UK entry could not have been less British. Greece's entry, led by Anna Vissi, was naturally a huge hit with the home crowd, although her performance was like watching Celine Dion on drugs what with the rapid movements of her microphone which clearly proved she was miming. A personal favourite of mine was Romania's Torneros whose wonderful disco voice bought a new quality to the show after Luthuania's We Are The Winners which, as the BBC quoted, was more of a 'party political broadcast'. Then came Germany's attempt at west-country music, followed by Denmark's truer-than-life stance that they just Can't Twist.

My view of Eurovision remains the same as it did three years ago after the UK's appalling achievement of 'nil-points'. I think we need a review of what Eurovision means. Of course, Europe is a free area where democracies embrace the concept of freedom of expression. When I think of Eurovision, I somewhat expect that:

1. People sing in their own languages;
2. Entries are not associated to earlier successes in the music industry;
3. Entries should reflect the nation's traditional music values.

Perhaps then the show will truly reflect the diversity of the cultures and peoples of Europe. I am truly grateful to Finland for one thing: if they hadn't won, Russia would have and that denial is clearly cause for celebration. After all, are Russians European?

See Articles here and here

ANNOUNCEMENT: Not Bad... For An Englishman!

Once again, a little bit of recognition for my efforts by way of the results from my Finnish test. This was my second attempt at Level 2 - my first results were 68.5 points out of 118 (58%). On this attempt however, I got 138.5 points out of 172, a whopping 81%. Yay. Onwards and upwards and it's Level 3 for me in the Autumn!

HUMOUR #1: Gays In The Army

NORMAL LIFE: Leaves On The Trees

After a week of clear blue skies in Helsinki, the trees are finally getting their yearly covering a green, fresh leaves. The city has come alive once again and people are dropping the layers of clothing in favour of t-shirts, shorts and sandals; in a matter of one month, we went from near zero temperatures to +20! I can only imagine how many people have been sorting out their clothes in their bedrooms during that time, seeking out every possible kind of fashionable item to see if this or that still fits!

This morning, as the bus came to a set of traffic lights on my way to work, I noticed a young girl waiting to cross the road. No more than seven or eight years old, the girl donned rollerblades. The minute the green man appeared, she zoomed right across the crossing, passing the front of the bus as she did so. She sped up, keen to beat the tram that was passing alongside her. It made me smill for, everyday, I am witness to things that just don't happen in England. Springtime and Summertime are very special in Finland - why not come over and see it for yourself?

OUT OF INTEREST: Johan Vilhelm Snellman (1806 - 1881)

Once again, the flags are up in Finland. Today is the day that Finland commemorates Johan Vilhelm Snellman (1806-1881).

Born in Stockholm, Sweden, to a ship's Captain, Snellman's family moved to Finland in 1813 to the Ostrabothnian coastal town of Kokkola. A year later, in a strange land, his Mother died.

In 1835, Snellman was appointed lecturer at the University of Helsinki where he belonged to the famous circle of Cygnaeus, Lönnrot and Runebeerg (you can read more about Runeberg in an earlier Out of Internet posting), the brightest of their generation.

Snellman's lectures quickly became popular with the students, but in November 1838 he exiled himself to Sweden and Germany in response to the government's firm control of new and oppositional thoughts among academics. Upon his return to Helsinki, his popularity had increased further, but the political juncture did not allow the University to employ him.

Instead, he become headmaster of a school in Kuopio and published a series of strong periodicals, including the paper Saima that advocated the duty of the educated classes to take up the language of the then 80% majority of Finns, and develop Finnish into a recognised, equal language for academic works, fine arts, state craft, and nation building.

Snellman believe that 'cultural strength is our [Finland's] only salvation', and claimed that nations do not sacrifice themselves for other nations. In the 1800's, this must have contributed enormously to the sense of nationslism in a nation beset by Swedish and, later, Russian occupation.

In 1850, Snellman gave up the position in Kuopio and moved to Helsinki, where he and his family lived under economically awkward conditions until the death of Emperor Nicholas in 1855, after which it again became possible for Snellman to publish periodical papers on political issues.

In 1863, Snellman was called to the Cabinet, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, in the Senate of Finland. He became an energetic and valued senator, accomplishing a language decree from the Russian Emperor which would give Finnish the same equal standing as Swedish within the Finnish government. The re-establishment of the Parliament, that had remained inhibited since the Russian conquest, and finally the introduction of a separate Finnish currency, the Markka in 1865, was of utmost value for Finland. Snellman's tenure as Finance Minister would, however, be tainted by the worst famine in Finnish history.

Snellman's inflexibility and his highly prolific position in the political debate would, however, together with his old reputation as a radical in the 1830s and 40s accumulate too much resistance and aversion against him. In 1868, he was forced to resign from the senate.

For the remainder of his life, he continued to participate in the political debate, and, now nobilitated, he belonged to the Nobles' Chamber of the parliament.

NORMAL LIFE: The Hill That Drives Me Up The Wall!

Let me introduce Hill, a guy in his early 30s who moved to Helsinki about 15 years ago. Feeling like his time was up, Hill returned to London last Autumn, about a month after I left Finland for the brief spell I keep talking about. Although he promised we would meet up and party, I secretly hoped that he wouldn't call.

Hill is a good friend of mine, but he's the kind of friend who exhausts you, sucking out every last bit of sustenance until you start to worry about his mental state. The thing is, although Hill lived in Helsinki for fifteen years, his friends comprised his own employees and a bunch of guys he had slept with. In the gay world, there's two types of men: the loyal type and the promiscuous type. Unfortunately, Hill was the latter. Until he kissed me at my own party with Bree in the next room, this hadn't bothered me.

Truth be told, Hill was in the right place at the right time; I had moved to Helsinki (see Flashback 47 here) and he was there, waiting for me to arrive, so that we could see eachother more often. Over time, I tired of his constant moaning, his boasting of male conquests and his constant bitching about Bree, my own boyfriend. Only now, three years later and with him out of the picture, in London and STILL trying to find himself, I realise that his mission had been to split Bree and I up. I'm proud to say, the strong character I am, he didn't even come close.

First, there was the constant partying; Hill always organised the party, but very rarely got invited to other's and this upset him. I was taught at a very young age 'to give, but not with the intent to receive'. Then there was the time when one of Hill's friend played Matchmaker by email. I wrote in the email that I wasn't attracted to Hill and had no intention of going there. She forwarded the email, word for word, to him! Imagine what a slap in the face that must have been to see such a rejection, despite your efforts, in an email. Then there was the time when he told me that he carried a certain substance through Helsinki airport. The sad thing was that he found it quite amusing. I held my tougue which is so unlike me, but it was at this point that I realised that I had to withdraw from this friendship.

As I tried to withdraw, part of me missed his company. I suppose his dramas made my new, lonely social life more bearable in Helsinki so we continued to see eachother. We were invited to his ex-boyfriend's house warming party and, having arrived already drunk, we slouched onto the sofa giggling away. These were the happy times, but why did Hill sway from one extreme to the other? Why couldn't he just be normal and not a pill-popping, yoga-loving, karma-seeking vain poof?

Then came a guy he had met on New Years Day a couple of years ago. Their relationship had blossomed or, at least, the other guy had led him on until Hill had well and truly fallen for him! Alarmingly, they had unprotected sex and, only later, the guy told him that he was HIV+. Naturally, I cursed Hill for being so bloody stupid, but later realised that it took bravery for Hill to admit being so reckless. We got him checked out, he was fine, but he still wanted to maintain the long-distance relationship with the guy who lied - or at least forgot! - to him about something so crucial. How can you trust someone like that?, I thought.

This guy really did cause problems for Hill and, as friends, I was on the receiving end of those problems. It materialised that, while Hill was in Helsinki, the other guy was also seeing someone else. You would think that someone with HIV+ would just be happy to have one person, but no, this guy was also the promiscuous type! Oh, dear, it was about to get messy.

As time passed, Hill got itchy feet, wishing more and more to move back to the UK. Eventually, last Autumn, he moved back. On a trip back home to celebrate a mutual friend's departure to Australia (see Normal Life posting, Weekend In England, on this page), Hill and I bumped into one another. I found out that the guy he had fallen for was now a cocaine addict, completely out of it. I reasoned with Hill, asking whether or not it was a reaction to the HIV. Perhaps the poor guy was rebelling, or perhaps his junky boyfriend was dragging him down the same slippery slope.

That was the last time I saw Hill, in January. We exchanged an email recently which, as usual, was full of the usual I've met someone, he's Dutch, he's gorgeous, he's got a lovely home, a great job in a store where I can get discounts! Oh, dear, I could see where this was going. Diplomatically, I wished him luck with the relationship and left things there. I haven't heard from him since then and, once again, I'm hoping I don't.

Like his own character from Beaches, the opportunist Hill invited tragedy wherever he went, tagging up with people who might look perfect on the surface, but later turn out not to be. As CC Bloom, I like to think I am a fabulous singer, but I'm not! But I have the ability to be a supportive friend over long periods of bad times and Hill taught me that that is one of my strengths.

As I settle down into a new job in a new company in this fabulous country (Finland), I think of Hill who was fired for underperforming, putting his personal self before everything else. What goes round comes around, eh? We all want the best for our friends, but sometimes your friends have to realise that the best support you can get is the support and self-respect you give yourself.

NORMAL LIFE: Bizarre Friday & The Liberal New Best Friend!

Surreal days are few and far between these days, but last Friday was kind of bizarre. It started when I got off the bus on my way to work and, as I crossed the road, a car sounded its horn. I glanced in the direction of the vehicle and who was the driver? It was my former supervisor's, boss at my last employer. What a slap in the face it must have felt like for her to see me on my way to a much better job than the one she had given me! With a mug in my hand, she open the the window of her car. As I proceeded along the pedestrian crossing, I raised my mug (which was wrapped tightly in a plastic bag) and said I was on my way to work! I approached the open window of her car, put one hand on her shoulder and asked her to keep in touch.

You see, I had notified my former employers (as is normal in Finland, don't ask me why) of my new job opportunity, but nobody had replied which some might have took as an ignorant snub. In the circumstances surrounding my leaving the company, their response - or lack of - is hardly suprising. However, it was still unprofessional on their part. I think my former supervisor's boss was embarrassed more than anything, as I toddled off before she even had an opportunity to say anything!

Within minutes, I had arrived at work and started working my way through one of the medical exercise books a colleague had left with me the previous day. Every now and then, someone would come to my section in the open plan office to introduce themselves; their visits were a welcome distraction from the heavy theory sessions on oximetry, entropy and haemodynamics! One particular young lady came by to leave some material with me which I had requested over the telephone. Instead of putting the material in the internal mail, she exlained, she wanted to meet me because her husband's Godmother was none other than my previous supervisor! I was like oh my god! The only woman in Finland I truly detested had already made her mark on my new employment on my second day at work!

Later in the evening, I actually met up with a good friend of mine from my old work place. On an exceptionally warm and sunny evening, we met on the terraces in the city and proceeded to drink pints of booze. We had a giggle about my bizarre day, but little did I know that it was about to get even more surreal. You see, I had told my friend (let's call him Zack until he chooses an online name to preserve his true identity!) that I was gay. I recently told Zack in an email and his reply was nothing other than sincere; I am pleased to add him to my list of friends and, on Friday evening, Zack took a step into my world! As a masculine, straight man, he was curious to know where the hell the gay bars were in Helsinki so I gave him a quick overview. By this time, we were a little bit pissed, but were soon in my favourite gay bar, the very same establishment where I had met Bree more than four years earlier (you can read about that here)!

Zack was absolutely fine with the environment and was popular with the smattering of girls on the dancefloor! Feeling some degree of responsibility for him in this alien environment, I kept a watchful eye on him. I just couldn't believe it - this guy, a Finn who had lived in the UK for a few years previously, actually understood me and was taking time to understand what it - and I - was all about! We had a boogie on the dancefloor - the music was great, much better than it had been in ages. In a way, the music singalong, the booze and dancing my new best straight friend was like a much-welcomed belated birthday present and job-offer celebration in one!

NORMAL LIFE: Haven't Started Work, Yet Already Stressed!

Since my return from the UK on Sunday, I've been battling to get my Master's work into some kind of organisation, cramming for my Finnish exam and sorting out my bits and bobs before I start working tomorrow.

Today was Finnish exam day. It went rather well; while my clear strength is that I understand what is expected of me, actually getting it onto paper and applying the correct grammatical theories - of which there are many - is the problem! Results should be with me quite soon so watch this space.

The day has been marred by the Finnish authorities once again though! Having realised that no unemployment benefit has been paid to me since my last job ended over two months ago, I visited the Social Security office only to be told that, because my last contract was only nine weeks long, I wasn't entitled to social security. I argued that Finland isn't paying my social security, that the UK is so why are local rules being applied when I would clearly qualify for beneift under such circumstances in the UK?

To cut a long story short, I got stressed, did my usual bit of shouting and the woman suggested I fill in a form - which I have already filled in three times - to see if they might change their decision. What I don't understand is they've had a letter from my previous employer confiriming I am out of work so what exactly is holding up the payment? Finnish bureacracy gone mad once again, that's what's happened! I filled in the form, but I'm not holding my breath. They know that I'm going back to work tomorrow so, most likely, they'll fob me off until I get bored.

I never thought I of all people would say this, but I can't wait to start working!

NORMAL LIFE: Ten Days In UK

And so my ten days in the UK came to an end. My trip to the land of overrated football, god-awful TV-soaps and ever-popular fast food left me feeling like I was a foreigner in my own country. Clearly, I have been away too long. TV has become very American with per-hour of TV seemingly dominated by adverts (long live the BBC!) while Soaps seem to appear on every channel literally every day of the week (how sad!). And is it just my imagination or are David Beckham and Victoria still in the papers every day? It's just sad, sad, sad! And even the broadsheet newspapers have started reporting on who is sleeping with who in a bid to satisfy a very nosey nation's thirst for information that serves no personal purpose whatsoever.

New Labour - what a ridiculously inadequate name for a political party that fails to deliver anything new - has become a shambles. For some reason, Deputy Prime Minister, John Prescott, simply had to tell the nation about his two-year affair with his secretary. And why? No one knows, but are you interested in who he's been knobbing? I'm not! And then comes along Charles Clarke, the Home Secretary, who admitted that 1,023 foreign criminals were released, but not deported in line with policy. We know their names, but we don't know where the rapists, murderers and thieves are! Is this really what Great Britain has spiralled into?

And that's not to get me started on the Chavs that seem to run amok in British society today. What's a Chav?, I asked myself. Chav is the new word that has sprung up while I have been away which describes a person who dons flashy jewellery and counterfeit designer clothing, is uneducated and uncultured and from an impoverished background. A Chav also has a tendency to congregate around places such as fast-food outlets, bus stops, or other shopping areas, and is often associated with antisocial behaviour. Which brings us to a new classist term, ASBO, which stands for Anti Social Behaviour Disorder. What has amazed me is, over the last few years, we seem to be degenerating into a classist country once again. I freely admit that putting people into boxes and categorising/stereotyping them is wrong. However, these Chavs and people who seemingly want to do nothing, but inconvenience the public and the authorities have no place in today's society. I think a lot of the electorate would respect a government who rounded up these young, miserable, idle-minded fuckers and incarcerated them.

But that's not to say that my trip to the UK was a complete washout. Oh, no! To begin with, I spent three days with my sister. It was our birthday's recently so we decided to do something different; we visited a friend of mine in Liverpool and went out for the evening into the bustling town. The next day, we went to Alton Towers and, the day after that, paid a visit to Cadbury World in Bournville, Birmingham Yummy! It was a great, but exhausting trip which was preceded by a drama of sorts.


When I first arrived at Heathrow Airport, I made my way to where my family live using my usual public transport route. When I got off the train and waited for my Father to pick me up, I realise I had left my suitcase on the train! Beset with panic, I rushed to the station office and reported the 'loss'. This late at night, the train would go out of service after arriving in Peterborough so there was nothing that could be done. To cut a long story short, I needed to take a train to Peterborough the following morning to collect the luggage. 'What a kerfuffle', as Lou from Little Britain would say!

After our trip up north, I spent three days with my Father. My Mother was in hospital recovering from an operation so we spent some time working on the gardens as a surprise. As time ran out before my Mother's return home, it felt like a Ground Force moment with animated music and activity as we rushed to finish the front path we had constructed. My Mother was delighted with the mown lawns, the turned over flowerbeds and the front patio and path.

The seventh evening was spent with my other sister, her husband and my gorgeous neice who is nearly 2 and a half years old! She's soooo cute and my sister did me proud when she presented me with a Steak and Kidney Pie surrounded by vegetables followed by a hot treacle pudding drizzled with hot custard. How English can you get, eh?!

The next day, my Mother was discharged from hospital. After spending a few hours with the family, it was time to see my friend Nick in London. We spent the Friday and Saturday nights together, catching up, checking out the bars and just hanging out. He's kind of a new friend - I have only met him a handful of times since last Summer, but when we get together it always seems like we've been apart just for days. When I left Nick on the Sunday lunchtime, he accompanied me to the station, every much the thoughtful friend (and gentelman) he has always been. On my arrival at Heathrow Airport, I met up with Red, my fellow Master's student. We had a couple of drinks while I tucked into my burger and chips, fully aware that I was about to board a BA flight with nothing more than half a cheese sandwich for fortification. We had such a giggle. She's bleedin' hilarious, that girl!

After saying goodbye to Red and checking in, I headed Air-side where the shopping spree began. Heathrow Airport is a wonderful airport. Following the expansion of Terminal 1, it has just the right mix of shops now. As I wondered around the stores, the money gradually left my wallet and a balance built up on my credit card. Amidst the retail therapy, I thought of Bree, who I had missed like hell; I took this to be a very healthy and positive sign after more than four years together. When I returned to Helsinki late on Vappu Eve (April 30th), he greeted me at the airport, a cute, flirty grin filling his soft, gentle face. It's always nice to visit London, but it's even better to go home.

NORMAL LIFE: It's Vappu Again!

And so it's May Day again (or Vappu in Finland). I remember my first Vappu in Finland in 2001 (see Flashbacks 13 and 14 here). This entry isn't to really report on anything exceptional this year.

I actually arrived in Finland very late last night so I couldn't really join in the Vappu celebrations. Having just spent ten days in the UK (the longest I have been there in nearly five years, barring my so-called temporary return last Autumn), keep your eyes peeled for an account of my trip!