Bearded Viking Guys

I think, I could’ve been a good Viking Guy. You know, swinging the ax, chopping heads and wood, strumming on the old Viking Banjo. Viking Things.

I do, however, have my doubts about one thing: beards! Oh I would be satisfied with one, terribly bothersome, wiry and brown as the California hills in the Summertime, but it just doesn’t seem to happen for me.

Denmark is filled with Viking Guy things. Sites with Stone indications of the Bronze Age (see the picture below), burial mounds, restored Viking Guy Ships, not to mention the Summer Fairs with almost – Viking Guy things.

Two pictures taken at Lindholm Høje, Nørresundby, Denmark. Stone markings/burial grounds, from Early Iron Age and Viking Age.

I’ve attended a few of them, one in Aalborg, but also a more famous one at Vorgaard Manor House.

or, in English:

I happen to have a few pictures with Middle Ages Guys without beards:

I guess if you like public humiliation, Knight Guys on horses, and children in wooden stocks, then this is the type of entertainment for you!

I didn’t feel that I should announce my coming out of the Middle Ages/Viking Guy Closet at that event, as I hadn’t grown a proper beard for the occasion.

Real dyed in the wool Viking Guys all, or should have the proper beard to fit the part!

OK, perhaps this event was more of a Middle Ages type of thing, but Denmark is famous for its Vikings, you know. It does have a more Viking-Like Event and it is close to Aalborg, where I happen to live.

If you look carefully at the picture on the website, then you will see some real bearded Viking Guys, looking well, like Viking Guys!

I might be able to distract those people, who would look down on my non-beardedness, if I wore one of those white, fuzzy caps, which seem to be accepted as genuine Viking Guy Type Stuff.

If you too would like to join me, then I’ll try to print an application form for your admission into the ranks of these Genuine, bearded, Viking-Guys, in a Middle Aged sort of a reality, if you really want to that is? Or not.

Remember they don’t accept just anyone in being an authentic Nordic Danish Viking.

I would know, being an American, and without a beard to boot.

Poor me…….





Copenhagen by Drone – Ski anyone?

Try taking a Drone ride over a new facility near Copenhagen, which is designed to burn rubbish, create electricity, and so much more!

At this link:!/

Landfills are not found in Denmark due to the enormous space required to do so. Rubbish is, therefore, burned in these plants turning the unusable rubbish into energy in the form of electricity, which is then made into heated water for district heating.

The top portion of this facility won’t be wasted space, as it will be made into a Ski Slope of 85 meters, with an area the size of 2½ soccer fields. The intention is that this facility is to resemble a snow covered mountain top from afar.

It is to be the most energy effective plant of its kind, reducing CO2 emissions by 100,000 tons a year, replacing an older similar plant, now 40 years old.

It can process 560,000 Metric Tons of Rubbish each year.

Processing of rubbish is to be started this summer 2016, but the official opening isn’t slated until 2017.

Alternatively, the video is also available for viewing on YouTube in 4K at:

Source: DR.TV – Danmarks Radio.

I have a surprise for you

That is what she said.


Today I received a large cardboard box from Canada. It had all sorts of dents and bulges in it with the usual writing like, “Opened and Controlled by the Danish Tax Service” – “No claims will be accepted, and this end up”, which didn’t mean that much, as it stood on the wrong end, as far as I could see.

It was taped all funny-like, with strange holes running along the top, or bottom depending on your perspective, which made me wonder just what kind of surprise I was in for?

I tapped on the side, and listened with my ear close to the cardboard. I thought, I heard something, like a sigh of sorts, but then it was probably just some of that bubble plastic that was losing its air, or something.

I kind of felt like Houdini, as I wielded my rusty, trusty knife and proceeded to cut along the edge. “Ow” – the box said, but that didn’t sound right! Maybe I was dreaming? So I took the knife, and jabbed it into my big toe, OW! Nope, I wasn’t dreaming, but now I was bleeding, which made opening of the box a bit delayed, as I hobbled into the bathroom, bleeding with excitement, and anticipation along the way.

After having bandaged my toe, and walking carefully with my knife in the safe position, I approached the box once again. Hey, wait a minute! The box was open on one side, but empty all the same. I peered into the inside, but only saw a pillow, a blanket that looked like the flag of Québec, and a piece of paper with “Denmark or Bust” written on it with indelible ink!

That was strange! I searched the house from top to toe – Ow, but couldn’t find hide nor hair of my mystery guest. This was surely a surprise of sorts, but I really wanted to know just who, or what had been sent to me, and why? I tried to communicate with my friend in Montréal……hmmm, no answer. I’ll try Facebook……the same, nothing. There was that time difference with it being 6 hours between us. Let me see, 10 am minus 6 hours. 4 in the morning. I bet she was asleep! That reassured me a bit more, even though I know how much she’s really wanted to visit Denmark, but hasn’t been able to save up enough money to do so.

I placed the box off to one side, but in doing so, an envelope fell onto the floor. Inside was a letter which contained the following text:

Dear Someone. I’ve been wanting to surprise you for a while now, but couldn’t find the right way to do so. I thought of saving up my money, and meeting you over coffee someplace in Aalborg, but then you know how wrong something like that can go.

I decided the best way to do so, was to box myself in, and get my brother to send the package to Denmark. Don’t worry about me not making the trip safely, as my brother filled out the necessary forms stating that the box contained fragile and perishable items, that contained the necessary items of trust, that connected Montréal with Aalborg.

A sort of Country to Country Friendship Deal.

In the event that something did go wrong, you would probably never know about it, and I would be living a new life in Langbortistan, or someplace like that.

I look forward to seeing you and spending some time in Denmark, before the Immigration Officials catch up with me and send me back to Canada. That will also be an experience in itself, allowing me to use the Danish, I have learned in Canada, at a higher and more official level than I hope to attain with the local Danish Population.

If you don’t seem to have seen me in and around Aalborg, be sure to look over your shoulder once in a while, and note any suspicious trash cans, or park benches that seem to be following after you.

If the coast is indeed clear, then I will be sure to reveal myself to you, using the secret hand signals that were included in my last blog to you. Remember to read every 4th word, then translate them into French, that it Québec French then applying the piece of paper, in the fabulous blue color of the Québec flag to be able to interpret my secret message to you.

If that happens to fail, then climb up the nearest roof sporting a weathervane or weathercock, and hang onto it as long as it takes for me to contact you. I ask for your patience in this matter, as I have decided to place my trust in you and only you, being my very best friend in the world.

See you soon





Dog Update – Coco on the loose

My new puppy was under foot the other day, mine! I was in a hurry and didn’t see him. Yelp! It cried.

After suffering the loss of my last dog of 8 years, I didn’t want to be the cause of the death or injury, of the new addition to the family.

I went to work with that thought on my mind. I made arrangements with my boss, to take a short trip home on my coffee break, just to make sure that things were all right.

The hours passed, without having the opportunity to go home. Finally my son arrived and called me up. “Don’t worry Dad, Coco is fine”.

My children are used to seeing my wife cry. She is easily moved to tears at the mere mention of certain things. Not me. I guess, my children had never really seen me cry.

Our last dog needed to be put to sleep after being bitten by a larger dog. We were all present during his euthanasia injection. Afterwards, I carried his lifeless form home, struggling to keep myself together, and it was probably the hardest thing that I ever had to do.

I then carried out the things that needed to be done: building a box of plywood, digging the hole next to the house, putting him inside, closing the lid, and covering him up.

That was December 23rd.

On Christmas Eve we went about the usual things required. We ate our traditional dinner with the opening of presents afterwards. I chose a package, and read the card,”to me from Otto”. My wife had given presents to the family in our Dog’s name for many years. She had just forgotten to remove that present in time.

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. My family was probably in shock at seeing me in that way. I thought about my dog, lying in that cold box, underneath that cold dirt. I just couldn’t believe, he was gone.

Through the days that followed, I still had a hard time not falling apart with the mention of his name, or the reminder of him being here, there and everywhere.

My children were on their guard, at the least hint of my tears. They probably felt that it was their job to keep me going, while everything else seemed to be crumbling away.

We finally decided to buy a new dog. I said that we should mourn the old dog first, before making any hurried decisions. I felt though after a few weeks that my children and my wife, probably needed a new dog just as much as I did.

I realize this is a long blog about my old dog, instead of a shorter blog on my new dog, but I felt that the time was right to have it said.

My daughter is used to sending me text messages with her I-phone. She sent me one after we had gotten the new puppy, named Coco.

“Isn’t it nice that we have a new dog? Now you don’t have to be sad anymore!”

That was true. Now I don’t need to be sad anymore, but I still think of Otto, without having to cry.

Here is the point of this blog. My new puppy, Coco. It doesn’t get any better than this!




Just what do you do for a living?

I get asked that question all the time, especially since I started getting so many responses over my blogs.

The answer is, “I’m a Fantasy Blog Writer“. It’s one of those professions that everyone would like to have, but it’s not as easy as you might think.

The next question is a bit harder to answer:

Does it pay well?

The answer to that is a bit complicated, so I would ask you to bear with me, during my explanation. You might consider it being similar to running for a political office. You need to please the maximum amount of people, using language that sounds like you really have all the answers.

There might be statements like, “We’ve organized a task force, to look into that particular question”, or “Let me say this about that”, or ” In weighing all the possibilities, and considering all the different perspectives, I would probably say, that the issues are not as easy to clarify, as we would like them to be!”

Hmm, what was the question again?

Does it pay well?

-I can answer that with 3 words: 1. Fame, 2. Fortune and 3. Women!

I didn’t start writing blogs for pure profit, cash, moola, Bar Geld, kontanter, Argent! Money is not everything. I would’ve used Money can’t, won’t, didn’t, shouldn’t etc, for fear of copyright reprisals, as those words are used in Song Titles.

Any blog writer who thinks that they are going to get rich by writing blogs, is denying themselves the real truth.

I’ll spell it out for you, Writing Blogs ≤ Getting Rich, Money Madness, Uendelig Penge!

So much for money, I’ll be satisfied with the other 3 things!

Have you gotten any of those 3 things?

  1. I write, therefore I am. My notoriety speaks for itself.
  2. I write for the pure pleasure of it. That is my reward. I also collect soft drink bottles on the side.
  3. I’ve been able to repel the women, who have thrown themselves at me, in the easiest manner.

My recommendation to the rest of you sorry souls:

Give up all your ideas of making a success of yourself, by writing blogs.

I am living proof of the validity of that statement…….


Visiting the Bunker Museum, Hirsthals Denmark

Those Germans during WWII were tricky fellows. I could use, big WOW, here but as it is quite early in the blog, I’ll just refrain from that idea just yet.

Here is a fine picture from outside the museum.

2005-07-Denmark 048

The windmill is included to add the vertical dimension in as opposed to the horizontal. Notice how the shadow of the gun stretches out toward the windmill. You can almost imagine Tinky Winky and La-La yelling “Uh-Oh” at this juncture, but alas they don’t!


Screen shot from Google Maps

Hirtshals or, Hirtshals for those of you than can understand Danish, is located near the top of the Jutland Peninsula. If you find Danish difficult to pronounce then you are not the only one. You might try to break down the word: Hirt and Shals. Together they are unintelligible, but separately they are meaningless! Danish for beginners!!

The next shots speak for themselves, “Achtung”, some of you might say, and you would be correct in doing so. Try to imagine those weary German Soldiers, toiling under all that concrete, or from the Danish point of View – The only Good German was a …….

On to the next photos:

My many years of German will be helping you in the translation here: When being shot at, put your head between your legs and….Nope. I’ll try again. When Shooting is going on then don*t touch this wall or you might be in danger of damaging your lever! I’d follow that advice, If I were you!

There are many interesting exhibits showing maps, artifacts from the war and lots of concrete. Don’t think that it was all negative, as the cement for this facility came locally from the Cement Plant in Aalborg. Thus in utilizing the local slave population and driving the cement over occupied territory, the Germans were able to give back some of the things that they took away from others. Mostly Danes in this case. But no story is only told from one side, and at the end of the war, most of the Germans were probably sad at having to leave their holiday fort for the less hospitable climes of a Bombed out Germany.

I leave you with one last shot of a group of Happy Go Lucky Vacationers at the edge of the Gun Turret sans Gun Turret concrete:

2005-07-JanFred-day 4-5 055

Note how these tourists are not Germans or Danes, as they don’t seem to bear a grudge while visiting this impressive site! You might recognize the tall fellow in the beige coat, imitating Babe Ruth’s Called Shot, by pointing off in the direction he intended to go. He seems to be continuing to walk, despite the fact that the metal fence directly in front of him, has no intention of giving way for his advances. He might be dangerous, as seen in other blogs, but you must tread carefully, and not upset him, if you value the lives of those hapless souls, directly in his line of fire!

A nice rifle with telescopic sight would be a nice thing to own at this point in time! Too bad they’re not allowed in Denmark!

Happy Holidays on your visit to Denmark!


If the ocean dried up, then…

-you could drive all the way to Denmark and visit me.

I’ve copied a map of the Atlantic Ocean Floor for you to follow, with the best route marked in black, or Noir!



I would advise an All Terrain Vehicle with GPS that would work on the Atlantic Sea Bed.

I found this Mega-handy drawing to help you on your way:

atlantic floor


On the left is Canada, and on the right is Europe.

I would also recommend taking a good camera with you, because you never know when the water might decide to return. Just a hint: Water+Electrical Digital Camera = Bad News!

The distance is 6262 kilometers, but I think someone has made a mistake, and measured the air distance between the 2 places!

The route: It starts off nice and easy, then you’d better make sure your seat belt is fastened securely and the brakes will hold, as it looks kind of steep from where I am sitting.

Then there are the Abyssal hills, which might sound like the perfect place for a honeymoon, but I think we should take those thoughts one at a time. The interesting thing will be at the top of the Mid Atlantic Ridge. It might be getting a bit hot, so remember to turn on the air conditioning or, at least roll down a window or 2, to get a good cross breeze.

If you come across signs like “Next Gas in 1000 kilometers if you make it up the steep rise after the Abyssal Plain”, then I’d advise you to tank up, no matter how much you think they are ripping you off!

To the north of the British Isles, it looks like smooth sailing, or driving, depending on the local conditions.

Remember to make sure I am home, and I’ll promise to have some cupcakes ready for you with coffee or tea, your choice.

Here is a shot of the cupcakes, if you thought, I was just tempting you, trying to get you to Denmark, without having anything of substance to offer!


Rigtig God Tur. Vi ses (see you soon) ……………………………..


New Dog in the house, Chewing!

I have a new puppy in the house. Coco.

Coco is too active (for an old guy like me). Running, Crying, Chewing, and Chewing. Anything and everything: plastic, wicker, paper, clothing, knobs on drawers. Like I said, everything and anything.

Nothing is safe. Nothing works as a diversion, for more than 5 minutes at a time.

I tried to tire him out, running up and down the length of the house. It worked for another 5 minutes. Then he found something else to chew on.

It did work though. Now I’m tired!

Suddenly, dog toys showed up on the floor. Blankets, dog sleeping boxes, food dishes, you name it, it all appeared like Magic!

Crying in the night, getting up for a bathroom visit, interrupted sleep. You’d think the teenagers had become babies again?

Just like before, I’m looking forward to Nap Time.

-It can’t come soon enough for me….

-And, I just might join him…..




Dog Logistics

When I moved into my first apartment in Denmark my new Sister in-law was on the scene to help us out. We acquired furniture from here and there, thus emptying out attic rooms and dusty storage rooms.

The most important thing, she said, was the location of the Television! She moved around the apartment, applying Danish TV Mathematics to ensure our viewing pleasure from all possible angles. I felt, at that time, that it was a bit much having to plan our interior decorating using the TV as the focal point!

That is, as they say, Ancient History, but a new challenge looms on the horizon. Where is the new Puppy to sleep?

The furniture was moved about once again while a measuring device was wielded in length and width. I could almost imagine myself, being back in the sleepy Danish Town of Sæby once again, not knowing the language, not having a job or money, and not knowing just where the TV was going to end up!

The Dog question was equally troubling to me. Even though it was not the language, my Sister in-law, or any number of other confusing factors this time around. The next question concerned the naming of the dog. In Denmark all dogs have a chip placed under their skin on the back of their neck. Before doing so, the dog’s name has to be coded into the chip.

Here are the challenges:

  1. placement of dog sleeping area
  2. acquirement of dog sleeping container
  3. naming of the dog
  4. fetching the dog

The first 2 have been accomplished with flying colors.

Number 3 is pending while  Number 4 is expected to occur on Friday.

I feel that there is reasonable control of the situation, with a small margin for error. Dog Logistics are not anything to be taken lightly. I wouldn’t want the future dog to end up on a one way trip to confusion, with a layover day in mediocrity, nor should it suffer the fate of my long lost TV, having to wander about my then-apartment with no apparent permanent home!

I expect to fill out a bill of lading, and ask for a signed notice of delivery in order to ensure proper delivery in the best possible conditions.

The as-yet unnamed Pooch (correction – Coco) is expected to fulfill its expectations to my Family in accordance with the known aspects of its kind.

I wouldn’t demand anything of it that it couldn’t supply, but then supply and demand are essential parts of Logistics!

Dog Logistics, that is!





To the Bitter End – Naming the New Dog

The New Dog might have been named “Disagreement, or Conflict”, but it managed to get a name anyway.

Everything in its place. Where should this be, and how far should he be allowed to go, when we are not home? Why this, and why not that?

I really can’t remember discussing so many things about our first dog? OK, We did talk about his name, and purchased the necessary equipment, but a Family Meeting, or an Ultimatum! I think not.

My wife likes to organize things. Making lists seem to calm her nerves, but tend to drive the rest of us up the wall!

  • How many should we…
  • If he does this, then we should…
  • Naming the dog: discussion, argument, decision
  • If no name, then I decide!

Another list. If…Then…Or, Else!

Democracy in action.

When I came home from work, everyone had a name that they felt would win the Contest. The Contest of Lists.

  • We start with the A’s, then the B’s
  • Annoying, Bothersome, Chaotic,
  • More lists. With more names. Occurring while I was at work. Confused enough, already

Each name was read aloud. My wife was the moderator, without inflicting her opinion on us.

On my way home from work, a name came to me. The New Dog was light brown in color, which gave me an idea. Coco was the name. Coco was brown, and something of a play on words. It kind of reminded me of a cat, I once owned: KC. Everyone liked that name, but they thought it was Casey. Casey this and, Casey that. “How did I think of a name like that?” KC for me was Kitty Cat, as I firmly believed that if you stood in the middle of the kitchen with a can of cat food in your hand, then you could call the cat just about anything at all, and it still would come to you!

Dogs were different. Dogs needed structure, especially Puppies. A good list should do the trick. My wife is into lists. My son and daughter accepted the name along with my wife. Coco is coming to us tomorrow, if it knows it or not?

My son told me something before leaving for school. Coco will be his name, but I might just call him Skipper anyway.

We might just need to make a list about possible deviations of the accepted fact.

My wife is good at making lists……


Coco, or Skipper, or……