I went for some casual sightseeing in the area searching for a proper restaurant for the evening, and found ‘Ol’ Winchester Pub’ to my liking – not only because of the menu, but also a beautiful woman sitting alone inside with a glass of red wine, applying a crimson Max Factor. I entered and sat down at the table next to hers. I decided to try out their unique specialty: Garlic roasted sparrow and garnish, consisting of blue Swedes, red onions and a nice arrangement of various salads.
To my surprise, the beautiful woman approached me, curiously inquiring as to what I was eating, and asking if I would like some company and a glass of wine. Of course I would, considering the circumstances that brought me here. She had a lovely local accent, somewhat enchanting; with her, I momentarily distanced myself from what was plaguing my mind at that time.
“I actually can’t feel that I was drinking yesterday” was the first thing that struck me when I woke up the following day. The last many hours – or at least I guess so, judging from when I woke up – of my memory were completely erased. I went to the hotel breakfast, which ranged from the classic Kellogg’s Cornflakes and other cereal to the extraordinary English one: Tulip bacon, scrambled eggs and buttered toast.
I delivered my keys in the reception and checked out, then went to the London Underground. I had heard of how chaotic the Underground would be at times, and it was indeed. Life seemed to sprout everywhere – it reminded me of Hothouse. Precautions of control had been taken: There were signs everywhere. STOP, CAUTION, CLOSED, NO SMOKING, DANGER, HIGH VOLTAGE. Even more were being raised. A hammer and a bucket of paint lay next to a sign on the ground, soon to be joint with countless others. I sat into the car, and was thrilled to hear the sweet tunes of The Beatles’ Blackbird. Not even the noise of a child next to me screaming “Mama!” could disturb the inner peace I felt at this moment.
It seemed to take only an instant before I was there, getting off the Underground at the National Gallery. I was determined to see Edvard Munch’s The Scream which was on exhibition during my visit, but I wanted to save the best for last. Over the next few hours, I passed through various rooms, covering everything from romantic representations of Jupiter to the postmodern Hitler.
Finally, at the end of my trip, I stood face to face with The Scream. It was a strange feeling standing face to face with it. On one hand, I could identify with the screaming man whose face was tainted with pain – I had felt similarly at the break-up. Yet, at the same time, I also felt a distance to the painting; that feeling belonged to the past. There were certainly better times ahead.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2 overheard conversations: Hun fandt en anden mens hun var derovre.
(She found someone else over there.)
Jeg kan faktisk ikke mærke, jeg var i byen i går.
(I actually can’t feel that I was drinking yesterday).
3 species of birds: Eagle, blackbird, sparrow
2 brand names for food: Kellogg’s, Tulip
Text from 6 signs: STOP, CAUTION, CLOSED, NO SMOKING, DANGER, HIGH VOLTAGE
The name of a planet or a star: Jupiter
The name of a lipstick: Max Factor
1 time of day: Afternoon
The title of a book of fiction: Hothouse
The title of a painting: The Scream
The name of a dead politician: Adolf Hitler
2 types of onion and 1 type of potato: Garlic, red onion – blue Swede
3 items from a hardware store: Hammer, paint, keys
A make of gun: Winchester
Something a child might say: Mama!
Newspaper line: Tories live: PM pledge of better times ahead
Group members: Troels Nielsen & Esben Jensen
Nice work of disguising the ingredients - one bird is a hotel, another a dish, the third one a song.
ReplyDeleteApart from the strange gap in he text after the description of the first night, and then the morning after, I'd say this is a very successful attempt.