Went to Dorthe and Stig’s joint celeration over the weekend. Very nice setting, if one must sum up the positives. That, and V really affirmaed herself in regards to the stuff she’d arranged. Went down well, the ukulele-swinging-and-singing included. Beyond that, everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when ’twas over, which I thought was not the right way. But I’m in the know that everyone’s been thoroughly stressed out, so that’s understandable. Yet perhaps not the best way to design a celebration, such that some – including those arranging it – are happy it’s over. The seting was indeed nice; old mansion, not really worthy of the ‘castle’ designation of its original name, Ulrikkesholm Slot, but well kept and tidy as could be. Had no problems letting Nicolas roam free, which he did – though liked to have someone, me, tag along. No sweat, but still one of those events where there’s just no sitting quietly in your seat, enjoying conversation and dinner. Ah, who am I kidding; I wouldn’t’ve enjoyed conversation anyway. In the end I clocked 23.500 steps, equallying 15 kilometers. At least that’s what my smartphone tells me. That’s quite a lot, isn’t it. V drove with the kids to her grandmum’s, I stayed behind to do the dishes and clean up the place and then drove with Stig and Dorthe to Nyborg, hopping a train. Decent arrangement, I wouldn’t gotten any sleep otherwise. And it allowed me to make full use of the Sunday: painted the hallway in a base white that’s later meant to be done over in a wife-accepted-tone. But it looks much better, and it was good to do away with that light blue one. Also spray-painted the mirror in a gold-laquer finish, undoubtedly inspired by the castle visit. And put up some more hangers for all our coats and stuff. Still there’s a lot to do; V will purchase a gray color she likes, for the panels. And of course the wall towards the bathroom is not done. And so on, and so forth. For now, for the day, it was good to have a non-brain-involving activity. Didn’t even turn on the radio, just committed myself to the manual labor and only sat down for dinner. Good exercise. Then suddenly the hour was 16 and I did some basic lawn-moving, weed-picking activities until V and the kids were back. Did the dinner, did the tucking in, did the lunch-boxes. And did some basic therapy-duties, setting aside a half an hour to let V get rid of some of what’s been plaguing her, in all her stressed-out preparations and her thoughts on the festives. And thus the weekend turned over. In just a day’s time, it’s V who turns the age-page. But that, thankfully, should be a rather more subdued affair.
The planted a seed in my head, V, as we talked about a possible relocation when the kids left the nest. I’m inclined on the Jutland setting that I roamed as a child, whereas she’d rather we remained on Sealand. Fair enough, though as we talked it over she adressed my concern thus, “if you want to have a house in Jutland, why don’t you”. I.e. a small holiday-house that I might attend in weekends, that I might have as an on-going project of sorts. I could see myself doing that, for sure. Will hang on to the notion; if just to have something to dream forward to.