The Princess and Me......

Another attempt at Queen spotting

Teeheehee

It was basically a transit through London.  Two nights and one action filled day.  Typical London hotel room - an absolute rip off.  But that's just how it is here - accept and move on.  I didn't give a shit about the hotel room - I could have stayed in a toilet block and not flinched.  I had one thing on my mind and one thing alone.  How the living hell was I going to squeeze into that wedding dress of mine?  The deposit had already been forked out - there was no return.  In retrospect, two months in Italy was not a good life decision at this time.  I decided not to eat the day before.  Completely pathetic strategy I know, but the panic had made me irrational.  I was so light headed on the Tube that morning that I got the giggles whenever the announcer said "This train is headed for Cockfosters".  I was like "Cockfosters...hehehehe".  I really worry about my maturity levels often, and this was a prime example.  Got off, got lost.  Thus of course,  I was late, sweaty and apologetic.  Another typical me moment.  But the moment of truth had arrived.  Was the fucker going to fit???  I nervously tried to wriggle into it, waiting for the tearing sound....but, low and behold - it was on, and in one piece.  And I owe it all to one thing.  Spanx.  I am going to thank them in my wedding speech that's for sure.

Can I please Mummy?

Just like her mother

The main highlight of our trip to London though - especially for the rat bags - was Harrods toy department.  Oh my, that place is amazing.  Rooms and rooms jammed packed with the world's best toys.  Plus you are allowed to go sick nuts on them too.  None of this "don't touch" bullshit.  You can ride around on bikes, grab 200 Micky Mouse's off the shelf and make a Micky Mountain, whatever you please.  The girls dragged a stuffed Fraggle that was three times as big as them into a small tee pee and had a little party.  Cordi held onto a large plush Golden Labrador and wouldn't let go of it for 45 minutes.  She said she was protecting it.  Dolls were grabbed and adored, and then discarded on the floor.  There were kids in there running around like maniacs, shop assistants testing out toys for all the watching kiddies, a candy shop, where you could watch actual caramel and toffee being made, and try a bit too.  The whole joint was like Dustin Hoffman's Big Toy Shop - or whatever that annoying movie was called.  Even though the entire five giant rooms of kid's crap was filled with screaming kids, and their freaked out parents looking for them, I found it strangely relaxing.  Relaxing that I didn't have to wrestle the crap V & C pulled off the shelves from them, like when we go to toy shops usually.  Relaxing I wasn't cold (the outside temperature in Europe at the moment is rude).  Relaxing that my kids weren't the most psycho.  And relaxing that my own were finally happy, and not hassling the crap out of me because they were cold/hungry/tired/thirsty/wanted to be picked up......the usual......Plus I got to go and feast my eyes on the dollhouses.  I have never seen anything like it (except at my aunts house - but I think I know where she sources her goods from now).  Twenty roomed palaces, filled with miniature everything.  Working lights, and tiny little meals, laid on tiny little china plates, besides tiny little napkins in tiny little gold napkin rings.  I would have pushed kids aside and played in if there wasn't a big plastic covering blocking my eager hand.  Those Harrods toy floor managers are smart cookies.  All I can say that as soon as we are settled I'm buying one for myself Valli and Cordi.

Loves it

Different day, same dog, same obsession

Classic Copenhagen shot

Let me see what else?  I noticed that a lot of people seemed to be quite jolly - like cab drivers and public members, who I'd ask directions from while lost, late, and panicking.  That was nice.  I enjoyed speaking English as well.  It's always nice to be understood and in turn to understand.  But that pleasure was short-lived.  We were off to Denmark.  It was my second visit to Copenhagen, and I must say I definitely enjoyed it on both occasions.  The Danes are very cool.  It's an effortless cool as well.  They don't really seem like they are trying at all.  That makes it annoying.  They are also one of the happiest races of people in the world.  This is despite them having to pay 69% tax on their income.  A little steep somewhat.  However, all their education, health care, uni, childcare etc, is fully covered by the government.  Apparently it works well. You certainly never see any beggars in the street.  Even immigrants have proper jobs.  You never see them trying to flog crappy Chinese toys in the street at night.  Plus their furniture is ace.  A house full of Danish homegoods would make me happy.  One of our favourite activities is visiting the Danish design shops and blowing our loads all over the furniture section (not literally, that would be illegal).

Cleaned it up no worries

They wanted this $7000 chair for their room - no problem!

Slag of all slags

The last time I visited Copenhagen I had a really brilliant time.  Chalky and his business partner had set off on a 3 day business trip around Denmark, so me and Jodie (partner of business partner)  had ourselves quite the fun.  Cocktails, shopping and seeing the sights were right on the cards.  As was eating copious amounts of licorice.  The Danes really make good licorice - it's their best food.  Apart from Fransk Hotdogs - hotdogs jammed in a mayonnaise filled bun.  It's the ultimate slagfood - if you aren't counting hot chips covered in cheese and gravy, and cream buns (the ones in a yellow bun with that fake cream and line of red chemical stuff masquerading as raspberry jam - you used to get them from school tuckshops before they went all healthy and pissed off all the kids).   Anyway, along with the classic Copenhagen sites Jodie and I happened to visit (between cocktails), was Christiania.  And it wasn't just Christiania itself, but Christiania celebrating it's birthday, so quite the party was on.  Music, beers, friendly people....and the rest....

Get a job Hippie

Hello my long neglected old friend

Christiania, or "Freetown Christiania" is an area within Copenhagen that is a self proclaimed autonomous state.  It is viewed as a sort of hippie commune within the city's boundaries.  It exists outside the rules that apply in Denmark, and has a unique status of being regulated by a special law.  The main drag in Christiania is called Pusher Street, and naturally you can pick up some blocks of hash sold openly on stalls.  Or could.  Things have changed a bit lately for the 1000 or so residents, and their current existence remains a state of limbo.  However, it is still a popular tourist spot, and definitely a place that is unique to Denmark.  It has quirky homes, galleries, workshops, cafes, music venues and beautiful nature.  And joints.  Never forget the joints.

Speaking of joints - here's Mary's

Trying to bust in in 2008

This time around though there was none of that reckless abandonment - and not a single cocktail.  These days my life is controlled and regulated by the Special Twin Task Force - with their mission to stamp out my fun, enjoyment, and relaxation wherever they may find it.  On this visit we "enjoyed" a family apartment, warm milk, some Danish cartoons and freezing weather.  But like Chalks, I too had business to take care of.  An invite to the royal palace to have a catch up with Mary Donaldson a.k.a The Crown Princess of Denmark.  Last time I let my chance slide.  I actually went to the palace, but discovered upon enquiry that she was in Africa - helping the poor or something I guess.   I told the guard I could be happy to wait until she came back, and take tea in the gilded receiving room.  But I was met with the response pictured below.  My reunion with Mary was not to be.

Wouldn't let me pose with his gun either

So you got the rubies?  big deal....

This time I was sure to get it together - but if I did get an audience with HRH, what would I say?  "Mary! - Hi, um, any chance you remember me from The Mayfair Tavern in Tassie when we were all underage?  Um, I was the one usually drinking B52s, and then later lying across the stairs, sometimes in my own vomit??? Um, I was friends with most of your friends, but I kind of hated you because I went out with your ex (Hursty) and he still liked you and shunned me?  Not ringing any bells?  Mary.........Mary.....".  She is highly popular in Denmark though. She is found to be stylish, elegant, dedicated to her charities and children, hardworking, sporty.  Basically still perfect.  No wonder I had daggers for her.  Only nowadays she also swans around in the jewels that were made for Napoleon's first fiance - Desiree - that she wore at Napoleons Coronation in 1804.  Whatevs, so my jewelry collection is slightly lacking.  I did call the palace however, and leave this message on her answering machine.  I decided to make it punchy rather than desperate, so I went with this - "Yo Mezza - wotsup biatch? I'm like, kicking it in Copenhagen right now and wondered if you and Fred want to do Jägerbombs down at The Gulerod on the corner ? Or we could get on it in the palace - we could get blind and go rollerskating in the state rooms or something".  Didn't hear any answer though. Astonishing. Who does she think she is, the Queen or something....?

My invite to drinks at The Gulerod was bullshit anyway.  Gulerod actually means carrot, but is the only Danish word I know so I use it for every noun when in Denmark.  I'm sure it makes me seem mentally disadvantaged but I don't care.  I haven't practised it for nothing.  I mean how often do you get to say carrot in everyday life - it's a neglected word.  Maybe once, twice a fortnight?  Unless you order a carrot juice every morning - Ha! That's what I'll do next time...... I only know gulerod in the first place because, once a Danish backpacker told me it was the hardest Danish word to pronounce and made me say it, while laughing hysterically at me.  There are all kinds of guttural sounds going on there, so I'm imagining I appeared humorous.  Didn't inspire much confidence in my grasp of Danish though.  Apparently one way to piss a Dane of is to try and speak Danish to them.  Their grasp of English is so competent that it really grates them when dickheads test out their bad pronunciation of gulerod, or try and order a latte in Danish or something.  Next time I'll learn how to say "please can I have",  and then team that with "gulerod".....

Impressive, very impressive

They are all good looking though.  The Danes, I mean.   What a handsome race of people.  Nice fresh skin and small noses.  Mostly blonde.  The natural kind mind you, not the dye-job frizzy blondes you spot everywhere else in the world.  All dressed in their thick lined jackets and matching boots.  Makes me feel sick.  I need to go home and hang with some bogans or something.  Get my confidence back.  Wear a crop top and far too tight jeans with a white g-string underneath.  Go back to my roots. Instead of practising gulerod in the mirror every morning and sticky-rollering the fluff off my once gorgeous and new, but now scrappy and shabby coat and trying to blend into society as a deaf mute.  I also have another word that describes Denmark right about now.  Make that two words.  Fucking.  Freezing.  There are all kind of chilly going on there.  It is so cold that it made it pretty much impossible to just stroll around.  We took the girls to the Tivoli Gardens for their special Christmas lights.  Absolutely amazing.  The Tivoli Gardens opened in 1843, is the second oldest amusement park in the world.  The oldest one is also in Denmark.  Obviously they liked a bit of amusement in the 1800s.  They have all kinds of classic old fashioned rides and fun things, but the Christmas lights for a few weeks in November/December are unbelievable.  The Russian Zone is particularly beautiful.  I took Valli on an old fashioned Ferris wheel, and we all walked around looking at everything and trying not to stop too long in case we snap froze into an unusual position.

St Petersburg style light display at Tivoli Gardens

Love-ly

Sort of love-ly

Crush them for me would you Santa....

By far the most exciting thing was when we spotted a very large authentic looking sleigh with eight reindeers cruising around it.  Then in front of us, a lit up house.  We peeked through the windows and who was sitting in a room, with a fire crackling in the background, surrounded by toys, presents and a large Christmas tree, but the big guy himself. The man of the moment  -  Old Santa.  The girls were star-struck.  I think I was too.  I have never seen a more authentic Santa in my life.  I think his beard and hair were natural.  He was also pretty chubby (no pillow down those pants) so he looked majestic in the red and white suit.  He was also the kindest jolliest looking fellow I have ever laid eyes on.  I would now like to proclaim him the World's Greatest Santa.  There were kids lining up to have an audience with him.  I asked Valli and Cordi what they thought, and they seemed keen.  So line up we did.  Ten minutes later and the girls were propped up on that couch being offered a bonbon by Big Nick.  They all had a cosy chat.  Santa asked a lot of questions.  Valli answered in a loud voice while Cordi was fixated on opening her bonbon.  Photos were taken and that was also all kinds of cuteness.  As they said goodbye,  they promised to be good.  I was thrilled.  And now the Great Lie becomes multi-layered.  The photo just reinforces not only his existence, but also their need to buckle down and be bossed around by Mumsie.  I was smug in victory.

The elves hard at work crafting Valli's top spot Christmas desire - a unicorn

Santa's sleigh and snoozing reindeers ....

Who needs to buy icecream?

By the time we had finished all of this, Chalks and I were beyond freezing.  Even though the entry fee was extremely steep, we had to get out of there.  We couldn't take it anymore.  The girls seemed ok, much to my astonishment.  My feet were iced over into a solid position, and had to be self massaged back into feeling and movement once we got home.  That night it snowed for the first time that winter, and there was a lot of excitement. All the girls wanted to do though, was eat it.  The first day after it snowed we were like "Have a munch munchkins".  After a couple of days we were screaming "Nooooo that bit is black and has rocks in it"  and "NOOOOOO! -  that bit is yellow because it's frozen dog's piss, don't touch it, don't EAT it for fucks sake Cordi.....".  Then there was snow throwing, kicking and snowball making.  I'm all for the snow and the fun that comes with it it, but jesus kids, can you take any longer to walk everywhere???

Eating it straight from the sky this time

That tongue can catch a lot

As I said before, I missed most sights this time around, and as for Mary, I am still waiting for her to call.  I know we will one day be best friends.  If only she'd acknowledge my existence.  It's a good place to start.  Perhaps a nude demonstration outside the palace gates might get her attention.  Not by me, I'll pay a backpacker to do it and then push her out of the way once Mary comes to the window.  It's a fool proof strategy.  Wish me luck.  And if she still blanks me, I'm going to set my daughter on her....

You will meet my mother and you will like her