Sup, my darlings! 

I'm writing this post during the news break in Norwegian Idol.  Not something I would usually be following, but two of the final ten contestants are from Glausdal, which is literally down the road, so we are honour bound to support them.  Norwegian Idol seems to be filmed in someone's garage and everyone sings English songs in super dodgy accents.  It's quite charming actually.  Update: the lyrics of the last song (sung by Sigmund) were 'I can't feel my face when I'm with you, but I love it'.  Presumably this describes the dangers of dating in the Norwegian winter. 

Can't believe I've only been here for eight days- I already feel part of a dysfunctional, multilingual family.  This probably largely due to the fact that together we have eaten four homemade cakes (chocolate, chocolate mousse, chocolate and raspberry and vanilla pavlova) and there always seem to be more arriving.  Konstanse is the eldest daughter and a keen baker.  Apparently she was a complete nutcase at school and her name still has some clout in the local schools (she's 22), but she has now found her zen in baking.  I've even started to bond with Gard (pronounced Gahrrrrrrd, or, more often, God) who is displaying lots of typical annoying little brother behaviour such as leaving the milk out and copying what I say in a really annoying (disturbingly accurate) English accent. 

Our visit to the Olympic Museum was a delight.  For an event aimed at grown ups, we were presented with a surprising array of free hot dogs, pin badges and posters.  They were showing a montage of opening ceremonies and I am unembarrassed to stay that, four years on, I still well up at Danny Boyle's Industrial Revolution.  It's just so damn good.  Afterwards we wandered around the open air museum, where someone has transplanted lots of gorgeous Norwegian buildings.  It actually looks and feels like Rohan. 

There's even a beautiful medieval church where you can get married, presumably to a member of the Rohirrm.  Oh, and left to right in the picture are Ruben, Felix, Anne-Helene and Tommy.

Work wise, no two days are the same.  The other day I followed Anne-Helene around with a notepad and wrote down 39 separate tasks.  My favourite was #17 Shave the cat.  Puss is the sweetest cat alive, but doesn't think it's worth her while to clean herself.  Thus, she is one matted kitty.  I spent two days this week digging a colossal flowerbed- I now have abs of steel and really sore hands.  They were so sore the other night I couldn't cut myself a slice of cake.  It was torture.

The weather simply cannot make up its mind.  We were sunbathing Monday, dining alfresco on Tuesday, watching the snow on Wednesday and we've been shrouded in fog since yesterday.  I now have  a fine collection of icicles on my beautiful Calamity Jane cabin.  As it warms up I'll be working hard getting the farm ready for National Day on the 17th May.  As far as I can tell National Day marks the end of a month of endless japes.  Facebook abounds with plans for practical jokes for school kids- such as waking up all of your teachers at 3am or choosing a random kid in the year below and marching into their classroom to steal their desk.  Or, for adults, the 7-day challenge (7 sexual partners in 7 days), where, for every successful conquest, you get to add another horn to your helmet (I really wish I were joking).  I've also been researching bunard, the national dress, which everyone roles out for National Day and at every other chance they get. They are honestly not embarrassed by any of this. 

The most exciting happenings of this week have occurred in the goat pen.  Mama G has an infection in her one remaining udder and has been put on antibiotics.  Sadly there is now no blood flow to the udder and it will eventually just fall off.  The baby goats, Queen J and Jerry are now on the bottle, any absolutely demolish their three feeds a day.  Jerry, previously the weaker of the two, is mad for the bottle and much of my time is taken up with restraining him and shouting 'Aw, fuck off man Jez' so Queen G can get some formula.  The geese are getting more hissy and vile by the day.  I simply do not see the point of geese as they are really bloody scary.  

It was my day off yesterday.  I was al psyched to cycle to Lillehammer and go exploring, but then I realised I was completely, impossibly zonked.  Physical exhaustion creeps up on you here and hits you with a sledgehammer.  Thus I spent the entire day reading a detective novel and drinking tea.  It was bliss.  The boys did the same on their day off today (very envious of Ruben who spotted TWO WHOLE MOOSE as he was walking by the river last night).  They are both excellent young men and I am a very, very lucky girl.

Missing you all xxx