November 9th, 2015.

What a lovely weekend. Drove by train up to Viborg, to visit the folks and attend the ‘Spectre’ James Bond premiere with the old man. It turned out well, the visit, they’re doing fine and we went on a book-shopping spree which dad paid for in full. If it had been other shops than salvation’s army-types I would’ve complained, but at a fiver per book I gathered they could’ve afford it. Good talk in the evening, but drank too much coffee and couldn’t go to sleep the way I wanted to. They really drink a lot of the stuff, dad especially. The Bond-movie was a good chance to Bond – pun intended. Methinks I saved the experience by having brought new army-regulation ear-plugs, as the theatre’s speakers must’ve blared at 2000 watts or whats not. So was glad dad took me up on the offer; so he got a worthy trip to the cinema out of it, too. Good film, actually. Mum stepped in with some cash, mainly for Christmas-presents for the kids but some spending money for yours truly as well. I promptly donated it to V upon my return, and watched her breathe a sign of relief.

A good visit, and a good trip. Stopped for a spell in Vejle, where I recalled, by way of recognizing an office building, a business-meeting I’d once done in town. The lure of having run a succesful company. Albeit miniscule by most standards, it was rather succesful and always in the black. And I got a kick out of that, I must admit, and out of meeting and dealing with so many different people. Should’ve thought I’d had my fill, but now and again – as this weekend – the urge creeps up on me again. And I forget how hard it was, how much work like you wouldn’t believe. And I’m thinking about the next idea or two. Maybe in 20 years’ time or so I’ll do something about it, who knows. Maybe sooner. I didn’t think it would come to this so soon, anyways, that I’d be thinking so positively about the gruelling experience.

Could be because I’m reading about some very driven people, these days. Read ‘Half man, whole human’ by René Nielsen; promising handball-player who blacked out and got both of his legs cut off by a freight train. Made it to the olympics and a very succesful motivational speaker career. And read, quite hilariously, ‘Flat out, flat broke’ by Perry McCarthy, the most unlucky driver ever in F1. Both of them driven into the extreme, in both their ways. Good reads.

Came Sunday I headed back towards Funen, where V and N had taken residence in order to drive K back and forth to Germany; she’ll be there for a week, in Rendsburg, attending the German school which german-girl Joy atends. Cultural exchange and all that. I hope it’ll be the last time; Joy’s a sweet girl but her family isn’t, and it’s like they’re depending more and more on this Danish connection: dropping the girl off an entire week ahead of schedule, utterly unannounced. Also, there’s the matter of the diabetes she’s contracted: V’s stressing out about having her maintain her testing her blood-levels, as she should, and keeping the diet a regular and healthy one. Apparently her own parents have somewhat neglected in this, seeming how her older brother, afflicted with the same illness, was as recently as last week taken away(!) by the authorities and placed in Goverment care, no bullshit, because he’d nearly died from a diabetic shock attack. So, in effect, we’ve sent our girl away for a week into the care of a family who just got one of their kids taken away from them. How lovely. V believes she won’t be in peril, so I’ll choose to hope as much. But I’ll be happy to see her back, no question about that.

Also Sunday, a trip to the movies with V’s dad. Yup, saw ‘Spectre’ for a second time that weekend, if only because she was convinced he’d love the outing. As I’m sure he did. He recalled last time when he attended a movie in the cinema, a filmed adaptation of one of his scandinavian crime-novels, ‘Men who hate women’ I believe it was called. Well, apparently the subject matter became the subject of dear Dorthe’s disapproval, raised rather vocally throughout the film, undoubtedly much to his chagrin. So I can appreciate he hasn’t been to Nyborg Kino since. Well, still a good film, and it was good to share the experience.

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