An insistent Adamant Audi

ftr-danish-jesI don’t know for sure whether or not The Royal Mail in Denmark, these days governed more or less by Swedish funds and now called Post Nord.

I the Danish Corner we have lamented the decline and fall of a Danish postal empire that used to bring letters to our doors the day after they were written. Anyway, Post Nord now repents and promises better days. Maybe even better letters.

Five days’ letters cause four-letter words, they realized apparently, whether or not thanks to The Gazette. So now I’ve changed my mind, fired my homing pigeon and decided to support the mail once again. Maybe even inviting the postman in for a coffee.

And one of these days I’ll write my Christmas cards after all and send them without Homer’s help. For Christmas 2017, of course. Just in case. There now, I said it. Or rather wrote it. The cat’s out of the bag.

December: the supermarkets and stores have already promoted their Christmas products for a month, ahead lie all the sufferings of December and Christmas. Alright, I acknowledge Christmas as being a feast of joy, feast of the hearts. Why, then, is it, that I feel slightly nauseous thinking of julefrokoster, Christmas luncheons in a row as long as the highway from Kolding to Copenhagen, with tons of tendered herrings, that we don’t want to eat all the rest of the year, abundant buffets ravaged by people who go to the toilet in between courses, come back without washing their hands and ravage on. Then they paint the town red thinking that they are its only rightful owners for a day. Until next year.

But worst of all: The Glögg. A horrible drink, of Swedish decent, of course, sweetened and filled with a number of magical herbs, raisins, almonds and what have you. The red wine makes it barely drinkable.With it you eat æbleskiver,there’s probably no word in any other language for this greasy dough ball that we must suffer every Christmas. And then I’ve not even mentioned the risengrød, the rice pudding.

Call me a grumpy, old man, and you will probably be right. More or less. Only one man can make me forget about the horrors of December. That’s Anders Samuelsen, the Liberal Alliance leader in DK. He’s not a very humorous man, not intentionally, anyway, but humour can make even an æbleskive slide down the throat. For a year now he has threatened the Danish government leadership with Little Lars from Gilleleje to turn it over because his ultimate demand was a cut in taxes for the richest. He was very adamant on this issue, staring at you with his insisting pale blue eyes. Very adamant. He isn’t any more. He’s on his way into the government.

Riding an Audi – minister’s car with a chauffeur. Satirical minds have guessed and pondered that his reward will be the Ministry of Environment, because he has been sitting up in the top of a tree for so long, looking very adamant and insisting. Me, I’m listening to Adam Ant playing insistently, just until I hear a knock at the door. It’s the postman with last year’s Christmas cards.

After all, merry Christmas to everyone. Including Anders Samuelsen and the postman and all the lovers of æbleskiver.

(News/International Feature, Danish Corner by Jes Rasmussen)

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