Sunday, July 2

 

 

Apparently summer in these parts takes place every other day. We woke up to bright sunshine and no wind.

At 10:40 we drove to the main island for lantloppis, and parked. We had arrived early and so we got a parking space near to the actual market. We raced in and looked for bargains but it turned out that they have instituted a new system whereby nobody can start selling until the starting bell rings. Some stallholders nonetheless agree to put things by until the official opening.

Lantloppis fills up rapidly with all the usual suspects. We say hello to lots of people. I get the first series of X Files, which I realise I have never seen; and a board game called Tuk Tuk Taxi, which should come in handy every other day when the rain and wind keep us indoors. Naa gets some shorts, a dvd, a small table for her balcony, and some cushion covers. Irma gets too many bargains to remember.

We all have sausages when the chaos at the sausage stall finally quietens down enough for them to start selling sausages. Initially the two women selling find themselves in possession of a pan of lukewarm water, not something you can use to boil sausages. After much kerfuffle and panic sausages eventually meet boiling water and sales ensue.

In the afternoon we will sit in the garden where the sun has turned hot and Naa gets a red stomach from sitting in a garden chair. I will remake a chest of drawers we got for nothing while wearing no shirt, and also end up red.

I will take the knobs off, paint everything white, watch it dry in minutes, do a second coat, and then install new knobs from Irma’s collection. I will finish just in time to catch the 17:30 ferry with Irma and Naa to wait for Naa’s bus. This one goes straight from Tirmo to Kamppi.

Naa will leave and we will miss the ferry back and decide to go for a drink in Tirmo. We will sit and chat with Lakku while he works his way through a very unappetising-looking mixed grill. On the other side of me a woman will order a cheese pizza and get what looks like a lake of melted cheese in burnt dough. She will pour ketchup all over it; presumably because it doesn’t look like it deserves any better.

We will go home and sit on the terrace in the warm evening sun drinking a glass of cider.