Saturday, 3 January 2015

Avocados and other rumblings

I was going to write about how I for long dreamed of a house. Of the squeaky wooden plankfloor, how I would stumble on the rugs, eating toast with avocado, how I would sit with my cat in my lap...
I live and have all that. I stumble on the rugs, or a few ones, often and I love the sound of my wooden plank floors and I love avocado on toast, my cat often sits in my lap...someone once said, be careful what you wish for - your wish may come true!
This is how it looks like when I've had my choice of vegetable in the kitchen...



I once read a novel, by Rachel Ingalls, called Mrs. Caliban. I so enjoyed it. And I craved for avocadoes all the way through. I did give in on the cravings, of course! I do recommend the novel. It is probabaly 25 years since I read it, but I can recall the atmospere and the avocado-cravings like yesterday. During the same time I read another memorable novel, about a man who became an alcoholic. It wasn't a victim story, but I do remember beeing extremely touched. For the life of me I cannot recall the title, nor the author.

I also remembered how me and my dear friend T, travelled on the metro in Helsinki, both carrying skies and bags, and how she suddenly remembered she had placed an avocado inside one of her ski-boots, as there had been no other place possible, and how she wished she was going to remember the avocado when she comes home. For some reason we started laughing at this, she was going to get off one stop before me, so I was left with the laughter alone in the metro (I just couldn't stop, nor could she, so she was laughing on her own in the station!). It was of contagious sort, and so we were a bunch of strangers laughing together on the metro, for a short while.

Today I had my dear friends Kaisa and Ilona and Haruka over for tea and bisquits. Kaisa brought with her the most amazing artwork. She makes these dogbusts to hang on the wall. The small green one I've had before. They are sooooo charming! Sorry the image is of such poor quality. I'll show you a better picture once they have found their place on my wall.


My dear friend Nicolas died in 2010. A long long time ago, he was engaged to be married. Her name was Silja. But they never did get married. They did live together. For how long, I cannot remember, it is such a long time ago. And Nicolas is no longer amongst us. Yesterday I had the news, Silja had passed away first of january.
I never learned to know her, our paths crossed several times, but we never found friendship, though many of our mutual friends (often) suggested we probably would like each other.
I remember a few things from their (Nicolas' and Silja's) home. Their enormous antique diningtable. The amount of books. Everywhere. Her collection of ex votos on a wall, legs and arms. Many years later, when Nicolas and Silja no longer were a couple, I visited her apartment. She had the most beautiful bedlinen. The duvetcover had a large hole in the middle of the top fabric, a square lined with lace, and this was the hole from where you also placed the duvet inside the cover. It was from a time when duvets were colourful and beautiful. She told me it was from her grandparents. 
Today, in Helsingin Sanomat, I read probably the most beautiful obituary ever written, by our mutual friend Tuomas.



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