Back in the day – when I still regarded Journalism as attainable a vocation as Astronaut or Ghostbuster – I met a beautiful girl who, rather than take me to bed, distracted me by introducing me to her father. He was the editor of the soon to be defunct second local paper of a small Danish island and was keen to get the low-down on what the foreigners really thought of the place.

He asked me to write a piece for the final edition but back on the mainland my flat was burgled; I lost the draft and missed the deadline. A month or so later the Police arrested a junkie who still had my laptop – he couldn’t get past the BIOS password so hadn’t been able to sell it. The HD was undamaged but my mojo was, so here, for posterities sake if anything, is the untouched snap-shot I was working on:

Old Norse poetry spoke of Samsø. Your island was said to hold the long awaited bay of love or longing where one could find shelter and tranquility. 

Back home, people are always asking me: ‘Why do you keep going back to Denmark?’ Continue reading “Vikings, Lego and Bacon (2005)” →