Tomorrow could be boring

Droplets

1. Turns out Topiramate was a double-edged sword: it stopped daily headaches and significantly lessened the severity of migraine(s) of which I had two since starting the meds, but it also made me forgetful, dopey, sleepy and all the other 7 fucking dwarfs. Reviewing with doctor and trying others. Taking a weekend break from being human guinea pig.

2. I don't think it's just me being a fragrance snob - in fact, I have gone in reverse-snobbery direction in many ways since starting the perfumery course - but lately, all the new mainstream perfume releases have been dull at best or an offensively poor effort at worst. One recent "prestigeous" line-up smells like a cast of Lynx/Axe/Impulse rejects from the pile that the evaluators thought too thin, crass and synthetic for a body spray.

3. Tuulia, my gorgeous wonderful Finnish loooooooooong-time friend had a baby girl on 11th of September. I am very happy for the whole family. It seems so unreal. She's the first of our group of 3 Uni-friends to become a mother. Not the first from the extended group, it has to be said - we do keep in touch with others too. Timo and I are going to meet the new person and take a much-needed mini holiday to Finland in a couple of weeks.

4. I'm finally fully on the perfumery course-horse. The secret to this one seems to be that I must do some of it every single day, even if it's just a little bit. I was trying to schedule in half-days, afternoons, evenings and even whole days of "course time" and they didn't work out. But since I've been fitting in 1-3 study sessions per day I've finally found my rhythm.

5. Flat hasn't sold yet. I wish it did. Want to move before next year. Ideally before winter.

What is the difference between 15/km2 and 392/km2, other than 377?

Finns are drowning, getting drunk and crashing their cars this weekend. They are also building big bonfires, eating sausages, swimming naked in the sea or in one of the 155.000 lakes, heating up saunas - and some might even be collecting wild flowers and putting them under their pillows based on old love spells.

It's Juhannus (Midsummer) in Finland and I feel homesick. I miss some of the above. Not the drunken, drowning part. I miss the odd, golden haze of Finnish summer evenings. I miss Puffet ice cream sandwiches. I miss the way supermarket cash register staff don't look at you in the eyes and how you have to pay for your plastic bags. I miss the cheesy Finnish soap operas and reading old, yellowing Aku Ankka (Donald Duck) pocketbooks at the summer house. I miss having space to move around, even in the cities, without feeling suffocated.

I would love to go for a midnight swim, or for a stroll in the forest.

When I moved to England over 16 years ago, one of the many things I didn't quite realise was that I'd be swapping space for crowds.

Today the population density of Finland is 15/km² and the population density of England is 392/km². Even the numbers tell you that one place is crowded and the other one is not, but I made an image to illustrate the difference. Whilst the figures would have changed in 16 years, the ratio would have remained similar.

Of course one has to take non-arable land into consideration (there are all those lakes in Finland after all. And when you take a birds-eye view, the whole country looks like a giant forest, splattered about with water and the odd field and town). Most of Finns live in the cities and down the south. There is a tendency for city-dwelling Finns to huddle together for warmth and resources; it is normal and expected for people from all sorts of backgrounds to live in blocks of flats. Sharing the heat, sauna and laundry facilities makes sense in the harsh conditions that are the norm for majority of the year.

The Finnish summer is bittersweet; heart-breakingly beautiful, but so fleeting that half of it is spent recovering from the winter and the other half anticipating its return.

Even keeping all of the above in mind, one place is crowded the other one is not. There is a difference in how it feels to be here and how it feels to be over there.

But here's the real catch: I've grown accustomed to having lots of people everywhere. Visiting Finland makes me feel a little uneasy. Where is everybody?

Yet in my heart I crave space. The wonderful duality of expat psyche.

Finns are, generally speaking, rather homogeneous. There is the same stuff in the shops, the same aesthetic preferences, the same morals, the same political leanings. When viewed from the outside, that is. And when generalising rather broadly. Nevertheless, the homogeneousness is noticeable from this angle and is perhaps one of the other reasons why, after a while, staying in Finland makes me feel like I've been sealed in Tupperware. You have to get out and take a deep breath. And of course, living away from it all, I fill my home with reminders from Finland. The same stuff, the same aesthetic preferences, the same morals, the same political leanings. I finally found a guy with whom a relationship seemed easy and right. His mother is half-Finnish. Etc, etc, etc.

There is a deep comfort in being among people who, without any effort, think and feel like you do. Living abroad is a constant daily mental effort; I once assumed that this would be eliminated over time, but I'm not so sure any more. On the surface (spoken language, body language, writing, appearance, manners, rituals...) one can become very well adapted; almost indistinguishable from the real deal. A bit of an accent in everything you say or do, but almost, almost. I think and dream in English. I no longer accidentally offend people quite so often (reading "Watching the English" helped with that). I blend in locally, in London and almost anywhere in England and the UK as a whole. There are so many different types of people living over here anyway that this is relatively easy.

But your deepest feelings, memories and psyche remain rooted in where you came from. Ironically, when I lived in Finland, I never felt I belonged there either. Only once I'd moved away, I gradually realised just how Finnish I really am.

The summer holiday season will soon be over. The Juhannus-celebration marks the start of the real Finnish summer. This year I may be able to pop over in September, but by then, I won't find fresh berries on the market stalls or get to swim in a lake. But this year is different - my best friend is becoming a mother and her baby is due then. She only recently came to visit London with her mum, but I miss her already. And, as I've mentioned before, she's the only reason it truly sucks to be away. With everything else, one can make do.

Is kitchen table a luxury?

Or a kitchen, for that matter? What about a bedroom?

The other day Timo and I were trying to see the silver lining to our extended stay in the studio flat. (We didn't plan to stay here long after we got married, but that demented brand of breakfast cereal called Credit Crunch made us pause and hold until house prices might come down to something approaching normal).

Timo said: "Well, look at it this way. It must say something about our relationship that we've been able to live in a studio for this long and we're still together."

He's right. We're very happy and very much in love. Every day I have a moment or two when I stop to think how lucky I am. I have had my share of absolutely abysmal and simply disappointing relationships so perhaps it's about time. Still, nobody is born entitled to anything, and just because you go through some shit doesn't then store that in the Karma bank (sorry Buddhists), so I still count myself lucky.

For my entire life up until I met Timo I was deeply suspicious of the "and then they lived happily ever after". And until we do, I obviously won't be in any position to guess whether we will. But I had reached a point where I didn't believe I was ever going to dare take a deep enough emotional risk to have a go. Timo changed that.

We'd love to live in a nice house with more than one room. Preferably at least two bedrooms. For a real dash of luxury, I'd love a spare room to set up as a home office and workshop. My work stuff and project stuff sort of needs its own place. There is something charming about how we live now, literally surrounded by stuff (I saw this documentary where they interviewed a mad professor and our flat looks not too dissimilar to his live-in library with piles of newspaper cuttings and bottles and magazines and books and computers). But charming quickly turns into an euphemism when you have to live it. You know the old saying "Oh, I love kids as long as I can hand them back." Kind of like that.

I'd also love to have an actual kitchen - not just a kitchenette. I'd love a kitchen table; a long, old-fashioned kind on which I could roll out pulla (bun) dough with a rolling pin. For a couple of years now I've gone to the trouble of making traditional imelletty lanttulaatikko (swede casserole) and perunalaatikko (potato casserole) from scratch. The process takes 2 days and in our tiny kitchenette, I haven't got enough room, so I have to juggle dishes and trays in and out to the main living area. They end up on chairs, our bed, on the tiny little table next to our TV. I also make Finnish star tarts (tähtitorttu) filled with plum jam. I cheat and buy the puff pastry and plum jam from the annual Finn-Guild Christmas fair at Rotherhithe.

Maybe next year we could move. Maybe we could spend next Christmas in an actual house. I already tried that once, but with the wrong guy. Even at the time, I kept worrying that it could all be snatched away.

What about this time? We live in an eccentric over-filled little love nest. We're happy here, but as Timo keeps saying: "I do look forward to the day I won't bump into your chair every time I come out of the kitchen."

What if we are stuck here for an indefinite length of time? Can we stay happy? Or what if we find a nice place, but we lose the magic? Or could it be that one day we might be lucky enough to have a proper home and a happy relationship? It seems like too much to hope for. I'm allowed, right?

In which I convince my husband that "höpö höpö" is an acceptable answer to everything

Quite some time ago, I bought my (then) new half-Finnish man a Finnish language CD-rom and course book. He'd expressed regret at never having learned the language at home. His mum spoke it and Timo and his two brothers did make some Finnish noises when they were children, but the language didn't really stick.

He didn't really get very far with the course materials. His version is that I was too bossy when trying to correct his pronunciation and whilst learning all the swearwords was of some use, he didn't feel inspired enough to continue.

Now that we're married and the course materials have gathered quite an impressive layer of dust on the top shelf of our bookcase, the greatest thing ever has happened: Katja's newly minted husband has declared he wants to learn Finnish. He's English through and through. Voilà, my husband now feels like this is some sort of challenge; the gauntlet has been thrown.

With his mind thus properly focused, Timo has made impressive leaps towards being able to understand the finer points of Viivi and Wagner and can't be too many years off being able to understand the other great literary W - the Finnish national treasure, Mika Waltari.

Current progress is still mostly focused on greetings and suchlike. So, okay, we're some distance off reading Sinuhe (The Egyptian) in the original language. But I'm convinced with his new found motivation, he will get there!

Whilst reading out loud some words intended to stretch the foreign mouth's ability to handle Finnish vowels, Timo fell in love with "höpö höpö" (which roughly translates to "poppycock" or "nonsense"). It's one of those delicious words (well, a pair of words really) that sounds appropriate for the intended purpose. Just like the English "poppycock".

The following chapter - on questions and appropriate answers - was highly entertaining because, in the style of "that would be an ecumenical matter", I suggested "höpö höpö" could be used as an answer to everything. Just try it and see!

Meanwhile, we've been trying to think of where to take Timo's Finnish cousin and his girlfriend when they visit London in November. I don't really want to see Avenue Q again (as brilliant as it was, we've got the soundtrack now and may have over-played it juuuuust a little. But then, can you blame us? "The internet is for porn" is even on my iPod). Anyway, I've suggested Monkey. Now that it has moved to its dedicated venue, maybe we'd stand a chance of getting tickets. I was so gutted for having missed it the first time.

Maybe "understanding human nutrition" will help with my coffee addiction

The next course in the series that'll make up my Certificate in Contemporary Science has landed this week - the exciting brown Open University parcel containing all the course materials arrived! It feels just like going back to school; getting course books, going to the stationery department of Akateeminen Kirjakauppa and stuffing your backpack full. Lovely, in other words.

These basic science courses have been such a boost and so much fun, but most of all, they've helped me stop pooh-pooing my ability to grasp the maths required. My maths-gremlin was big, hairy and loud, left from the Finnish-Russian school days where we'd be bullied by the teacher for not memorising the day's homework in fluent Russian and reciting it in front of the class the next morning. I've always conceded that yes, I may have been slightly put off by that, but you know, maybe those teachers were onto something and I didn't really have that much of a talent for maths beyond the basics. Which was a shame, because otherwise I may have been encouraged to continue my chemistry studies further than I did. I've looked at my old school grades and was a little surprised that my memory betrays me; I'd been doing very well (getting 8 & 9 grades on a scale of 4-10 from both Chemistry and Physics before my maths teacher convinced me I was crap). I did carry on with biology and psychology - the "softer" subjects (and chose those for my final exams too; similar thing to A-levels).

My biology teacher was amazing. The official one at school and the unofficial one at home (an "older boy" I moved in with when I was 16 and he was 23. He was a biology student at the Helsinki Uni at the time). Motivation is a funny thing; if you have a reason to do the "look, Ma!" thing (even if the person who you want to do the looking isn't your Ma), you can do amazing things. You might wonder what a 16-year old girl was doing moving out of home, but that was shortly after the mum running away from home and leaving me with no electricity, food or money-incident, so I just decided "fuck it, I'm out of here." But that's another story.

I guess one of the things I'm really happy about the OU is that I'm mostly doing it to prove something to myself. The topics are relevant to my big dreams too. Few years ago I dreamed of reaching a level of personal experimentation and understanding behind the magic of perfume formulation that'd maybe allow me to do some simple natural perfumes. I lamented the fact that in the real, pro circles, you'd usually need to have an education to match and wondered about the ability to self study the topic. And how far that'd get you. I'm way, WAY off from being a perfumer or a cosmetic scientist, but I've begun to think that maybe that's possible. So far, I'll be glad to get this OU certificate complete (4 more courses to go) and to carry on learning the basic skills at work. Then, hopefully, I'll be able to do the IFEAT perfumery course, after which I'd absolutely love to do the Society of Cosmetic Scientists diploma course. This four-pronged approach of on-the-job training by my current employer, formal science studies, perfumery and cosmetic science studies should enable me to gain a good understanding and a set of useful skills. Also, please pinch me.

Fitting in the studies has been hard. I am busy these days (well, I've always kept myself busy, but now I'm so busy that I can just about stop for long enough to go: boy, I'm busy). Wow, talk about over-using the word BUSY. Now it sounds like bees buzzing. Anyway, where was I? Yes, BUSY. I love everything I'm doing now, but it does take its toll in free time. I find myself foruming and surfing at midnight, or catching my emails quickly in the morning before catching a train. On the days I work from home, I get so fully absorbed in what I'm doing (love it, love it; it's called flow, I'm told - colour me addicted!) that switching gears from work-head to anything-else-head becomes extremely hard. Besides, when you're tired from thinking (home days) or tired from travelling (all the other days), sitting down with a sheet that requires you to balance chemical formulas is a little daunting.

I think my study skills have improved as a result of the OU. I'm still learning, obviously - and I'm a long way from feeling fully comfortable with the amount of work required (10 hours a week sounds easy until you try to fit them in and until you realise that all of those 10 hours need to be fairly intense for you to pass the course. And since I'm not happy just to pass - I want to pass with flying colours - there were a couple of caffeine-fuelled nights spent until the small hours, trying to revise before an assessment. Not a strategy I 'd recommend).

This time, I'm going to do more in the beginning to make it easier towards the end. The course is due to start on the 1st of September, but I'm going to start tomorrow (first, by going over some stuff from the last course just to refresh my memory).  Also, I'm going on a work trip to Chicago for the first official course week (typical), so I'd better get ahead or I'll be behind. And, this is exactly why it's hard for me to fit these studies in, but I'm so determined to plough through and get these qualifications that I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes.

Speaking of caffeine, my boss has this theory - that it could be behind my migraines. I've not drunk full strength coffee for over a month and I've only had one migraine so far (and that was after I swear someone at Starbucks gave me the real stuff by accident). Damn; the boss might be right. I love the smell and taste of coffee so much, that I've not been able to give it up entirely. I've found some palatable brands of decaf to use at home. Now if I could only somehow just stop craving the drink entirely. I don't think I even want to. Maybe I'll learn something on the course that'll make me see the light.

What I did on my holidays (or: orcs in my face and lemon verbena up my nose!)

I've had a week off and now that it's coming to an end, I am just about starting to twig that this is a ho-li-day. Having said that, I've had a really good time; going to the theatre, planting herbs and flowers in the garden, reading books, playing Lego Star Wars (the complete saga) on PS3, baking and cooking... and making perfume. What I haven't managed yet, is a single entirely leisurely day. No, I'm not surprised either. But then again - if doing nothing = boredom and if boredom = torture, then why should I have to subscribe to the idea that relaxation means doing nothing. Maybe I've misunderstood. Maybe the relaxing kind of doing nothing is in fact, intensively focused meditative "doing nothing", in which case it really is "doing something" after all.

So, about the orcs. We went to see Lord of the Rings musical at the Theatre Royal (Drury Lane, London) on Tuesday just gone. The stage design, lights, choreography and circus skills were breath-taking. The whole stage (and some of the viewing boxes immediately around it) were encased in twining wood-like structures. We sat on the second row off the front and the effect was particularly strong; it felt even more participatory than theatre normally does (and, erm, more about that aspect of this experience shortly).

Some of the more challenging aspects of the LOTR story - the riders, Balrog and Shelob - were shadow-puppet-like, live silhouettes on stage, aided by excellent puppetry skills, smoke, light and sound. The battles were similarly stylised; some more circus-like, but all adrenaline-inducing and a joy to witness.

There were some oddities that snagged on the otherwise beautifully put together tapestry. The ents (always my favourite in this tale) were cleverly executed and the costumes were a fun interpretation, but they seemed to be on stage for a disappointingly short time, considering the effort that must have gone into putting them together in the first place. I didn't understand why the actor playing Frodo had adopted an oddly strangulated, nasal style of delivery (is that what Hobbits are meant to sound like? None of the others spoke that way). I wasn't sure about some of the casting choices. And the story and dialogue were delivered in a kind of a hurry; I wondered how hard it must have felt to tackle this epic at the beginning of the script writing process: "Guys, we have to squeeze thiiiiiiiiiiis many words into, cough, a couple of hours."

Having said all that, the cuts and adjustments they'd made were good and what they'd done towards the end in particular, by keeping in some of the important symbolism and commentary present in the original work, was excellent.

One of the most delightful elements of this LOTR version was the music. Although only one gorgeously melancholy and contemplative song seems to have stuck in my head like a song borne out of true musical theatre would, and the others have just left behind a general impression rather than their melody - nevertheless, the musical portion of this theatre production was superb. It added Tolkien's folk-song flavour, the elves' melodies and the atmosphere of ancient lore told through music and only imagined in our heads when reading the original books. Involving the Finnish ensemble Värttinä in the production of the score is a lovely correlation to Tolkien's love of Finnish mythology, although according to the members of the band, their addition to the project happened more by chance (scouring world music and chancing upon this song) than by intent (on being true to the roots of Tolkien's folklore research). Influences of Indian music could be heard throughout, which is not surprising, as the other half of composing came from the famous A.R. Rahman.

There were two intervals, the second of which was not long enough for people to get out of their seats, so instead... there was some interval entertainment in the form of orcs galavanting around in the audience! I was sat by the aisle on row 2. When the level of hubbub-hubbub-hubbub of general interval noise had raised to normal sort of standard, I spotted an orc about 6 rows behind us, staring down some poor tourist. So I turned my back to the aisle and said to my husband:

"Look! Look! There are orcs in the audience!"

Husband: "Um, honey?"

Me: "Look...loo... what?"

Husband: "Behind you."

Me: (turning to face the aisle): "AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Everyone within 2 mile radius: "Ahahahahahaha!"

There was an orc wearing one of the best pinhead-meets-hobgoblin theatrical make-up and costume ensembles RIGHT IN MY FACE, growling and drooling. Ok, maybe not drooling.

Afterwards, husband couldn't stop laughing: "I swear he enjoyed that."

Me: "Well you certainly did!"

(The orc actually came back to me for round 2 a moment later! For some reason I couldn't entirely concentrate on the show for the first few minutes once the curtain lifted for act III).

LOTR musical closes on 19th of July 2008, so you can still catch it! I recommend staying alert during the second interval.

For the rest of the week, I've not gone on any great outings, but I've gone a bit Bree Van De Kamp and baked, made food from scratch, tidied and brought in some cut roses from bushes I've grown over the last 2 years from little stumps in my garden.

And most evenings, I've allowed myself to indulge in perfume making (I say allowed because due to the still-quite-unbelievable-have-to-keep-pinching-myself turn that my career has taken, perfume making could now be considered "work" and I'm supposed to be on holiday. But I am too obsessed about scents to consider it work in the sense of "something one should ever stop thinking about". And I've been too busy on more important things with deadlines during working days, so I haven't really had the time or energy for concocting much).

The result is a scent I feel quietly hopeful about. I like it very much, but wonder whether it would be liked by others. I'm hoping to finish it soon and put it to the test. It's a heady mixture of Lemon Verbena, Orange Blossom Absolute, real Nectarine essence, Jasmine Absolute and soft woody amber notes. The opening is like lemon sherbet and summer fruit. It then warms to a sweet, honey-like floral (like a night garden full of white flowers) and dries to the smell of sexy, sweet skin. There is a home made perfume strip with today's batch notes written on it hanging from the makeshift "clothesline" above my computer. As it's a pure, undiluted concentration, the whole room smells of it now. Oops. I wish I had a lab.

I'm off to make some muffins now!

Library lament

This could very well be (at least part) childhood nostalgia warped memory, but I'm pretty sure libraries in Finland are much better than the ones in UK. On the other hand, in UK, I can have access to documents that would be out of reach if I still lived in Finland. Yes, I can register as a reader at the British Library and research to my heart's content. I can go to my old college and sniff my way through their rare collections.

Yet what I mean by "better" doesn't relate to the availability of hard to obtain data. I guess what I mean, is the state of the everyday, local library. The one where I live now has just had an expensive "re-vamp". The main change being that it now smells slightly less damp in there. The selection of books still seems like a set of cast-offs from Lake District B&Bs and what was left over from Uncle Jack's car boot sale. There is no child and parent area. There is nowhere for you to sit down and read. A metal rack in front of the customer service desk offers dated DVDs for rental. It's soulless.

Libraries played a huge part in my love affair with books. I'd go to the one in Kouvola when visiting grandparents during school holidays. Being a child, it obviously seemed more vast and cavernous than it really is, but its size wasn't the only awe-inspiring element. Back in the late 70s, it felt high-tech for having children's audiobook tables by which you could perch with headphones not too unlike the ones sported by Princess Vespa of Druidia and listen to stories to your heart's content. There was a large children's book section from where I borrowed such gems, as Edgar Rice Burrough's Mars series and the more mundane, yet obvious titles like "Little Women" and "Treasure Island". The SF section was amazing - and much bigger than the one at my school library where most of the books were in Russian for a start! One of the main genre publishers (Kirjayhtymä) had decided on a uniform font and a black&white jacket cover design, which made it easy and moorish to select SF books. I'd stand there staring at rows and rows of books that looked alike, knowing they'd all be exciting somehow. I read Asimov, Aldiss, Brin.... Heinlein - in fact I suspect I might have read the whole section alphabetically from start to finish. 

The summer visits were best because I was allowed to borrow a big pile of books, take them to our cottage and then bury my head in them whilst trying to avoid my mother dragging me into the sun.

The library in Pasila, Helsinki was something else too. I lived in that area for a short time in my late teens. The building looked pretty awful on the outside (there is a particular widely used "modern" style of Finnish architecture that emanates a kind of bureaucracy-aesthetic). Not really paying attention to the exterior at the time, I happily devoured the delicious selection on the inside.

That's just two Finnish libraries that hold particular significance to me, but I've used many more. The little ones in suburbs, the huge ones in Helsinki, a library bus.

And something just feels better about them. When I move to a town, or visit one for a long time, I look out for the library. So far I've been to a dozen or more local libraries in UK and have been dissapointed every time. They all seem to be a book-slum; the lowest common denominator, like a charity shop for books (except some charity shops have better selections). They make me melancholy.

I understand there are funding issues - but there are similar issues in Finland. I am sure my points of reference are out of date in regards to the state of the Finnish library system, but I'm trying to account for equivalent degradation when making mental comparisons.

Perhaps the difference is that Finns are a nation of public-service lovers, unionised in workforce and have proportionally higher percentage of people who seem to be born administrators.

I don't think that Brits love books any less than Finns. It has to be about the bureaucracy-aesthetic; after all, its appreciation in architecture is only a manifestation of a deeper, cultural feeling for what's right and what's wrong. Maybe that's the very thing that keeps Finnish libraries breathing whilst similar public services in other countries slowly suffocate.

From waiting room to warp drive

A pidgeon was clearly trying to commit suicide by throwing itself in front of my Smart today. It (he? She?) flew very purposefully towards my left wheel, plonked itself down on the concrete floor of the Mall car park and wouldn't budge. I tooted my horn. It didn't move. I had to make an elaborate curve to avoid it - which, by the way, wouldn't have been possible in the tight space available, had I not been driving the tiny tiny car.

Oh, Smart, how I love thee. Especially now that you're fully MOTd and serviced again.

Many, many things on my things-to-do list have had a big tick recently. And the waiting room bit? Gone. It's happened; I have moved onto the next stage (I suppose one could say that I have been promoted).

I am working in London, Poole and to some extent, from home. Every week looks different. Some days are full of rushing around, some full of meetings, some are very physical and hands-on - most days are very long now that I'm doing far more commuting. That's perhaps one of the only down-sides, but a price totally worth paying for. I can't ever remember feeling this happy, this fully involved, this much in my element at any previous job. I do feel under pressure to deliver results, but that type of stress goes with any job that involves responsibility and deadlines.

I say one of the only down-sides because there is of course the not-seeing-Timo-enough downside, but that's hardly new. We just have to keep remembering to give our relationship some time to flourish, for it not just to exist as a vague presence in the background. On the plus side, it is now slightly easier for me to get Sundays off, which makes it easier for us to have a day off together. Very big bonus.

Wedding is beginning to seem like something real. I've done a few more bits of wedding faffing recently and the remaining tasks are almost all now just details. Friends have mercifully stepped in and Katja, Tuulia and Gloria are all busy doing their part in helping. I am extremely relieved and grateful for that.

Meanwhile, Timo has booked us into a lovely 19th century wooden villa at the southernmost point of Finland, in Hanko, for the few days after the wedding before we fly back to UK. An actual honeymoon is to follow - hopefully - later this year. I suppose it's lucky that we're both in jobs that need us back as soon as possible because if it was just the one of us rushing back to work, we might not be so understanding of each other.

Today, on a rare day off, I picked up my ring (a plain platinum band), purchased some cosmetics (I can't live without Benefit's Dandelion) and booked a haircut for end of June...

I kind of need one.

Haven't decided on the fringe. Should I keep it for the wedding? If so, it needs to preferably be short enough for me to see. However, I could go back to non-fringe. I have a tiara for the big day. It wasn't planned, but then I made the crucial mistake of trying them on and, well.

When I opened Marie Claire this month, I was delighted to see that they've chosen to feature Helsinki. There was even a very brief mention of Suomenlinna, the venue of our wedding. I'm only ever accidentally trendy, so I should really milk this.

Wow, what a hard decision

Well, today's the last day of my little holiday. Had a week off to go to Finland and arrange further wedding related things. Of course, as usual when one has been overdoing things for a bit too long, the minute I stopped working, I became ill.

Sinuses filled with green glue, voice like a scratchy record (and then, very quickly, strangled squeaks, then nothing), I somehow managed to run around in Helsinki with Timo and get everything done anyway. In the evenings we were wiped out and fell asleep far earlier than we're used to.

The wonderful thing is that we now have the go-ahead for our marriage. All paperwork is in order, we've checked the venue, ordered the flowers, and have a final list of things to do (including getting the rings! Minor detail...).

Over the weekend, I have been trying to rest and get myself back to normal. I would rather not have another course of antibiotics if it can be helped! Feeling lots better, though sinuses are still giving me trouble. Part of this resting has, admittedly, happened in front of the computer...

Timo brought home World of Warcraft (WoW) trial disks. Now, we've been avoiding it because we had another MMORPG love, Final Fantasy online. Except the trouble with FF has been that the time sink required for it exceeds what we can possibly commit to. For the most part, I've been doing things like levelling various crafts or breeding giant chicken mounts (yes, really). They're called chocobos and are an integral element in all things Final Fantasy.

I love the Final Fantasy world and in the beginning, it was easy to pick up the online game and get ahead. Unfortunately majority of the game content (quests and so on) really does require you to spend hours on end playing. Sometimes in one go. Many activities are geared to be suitable for large groups only, or require the help of higher level players to complete. In order to gain commitment from others to help you, you must be available to do the same in return. It's only fair and makes sense.

However, being one of those weird gamers that actually prefers achieving things in the fabled world of RL (Real Life) as well as in-game, I don't think I have much choice in the matter of FF. I can keep on paying the monthly subscription to keep my characters and giant chickens "alive", or I can cancel the subscription. Quit. It seems bizarre to be a little bit emotionally attached to a virtual world and its inhabitants, but I've been a fan of the Final Fantasy universe for years and a player on FF online for over 2 years. So quitting seems like leaving something real behind.

How real are online gaming environments? Do they become as real as the time you have put in them? Or the people you "meet" and make friends with?

Is it all just a big waste of time? Is any social, fun activity a waste of time?

I guess when it stops being fun.

So, meanwhile, we've been trying to understand what makes World of Warcraft online such a popular game. It has millions of subscribers (over 6 million, I seem to remember seeing somewhere - sounds ludicrous! That's more than the entire population of Finland!).

WoW seems so easy to get into after FFXI. Granted, in every such game, the first 10 levels of a character are a breeze, after which things get harder. We've tried out different characters, classes and crafts. It's fun, so far. Worth getting a subscription? Not sure yet. It seems to be far better suited to people who want to play for a while, go do something else and come back again. Of course the mechanics, especially towards end game, seem to allow for overwhelming immersive playing style (there's always some Uber gear that can be perceived as a must-have and this type of gear or priviledges or imaginary in-game status always requires making the game your primary activity in life for quite a while). The key difference seems to be that this does not appear to be a requirement. It's an option.

If I'm right about the above and it's in fact possible to play WoW semi-casually, then it might be sold. Just a few more days of the trial left.

It's definitely a nice thought to have something to lose yourself in once in a while. I tried Second Life (and still have my account there), but it seems a little bit pointless. There's not an awful lot to do, unless you want to make a pretty toon and flirt. I made a dragon.

Still. Why do I feel that playing WoW instead of FF online is like cheating? And quitting FF would be like a breakup. Yet I know it seems the logical thing to do. How dorky. I'm surprised at myself actually.

Confetti and Lace

Last week I visited Confetti and Lace - a bridal boutique in Farnham - with a good friend who will be coming to our wedding in Finland. I was hoping to find THE wedding dress. I've emphasised the "bridal boutique" in that sentence because the what, how, where, of the wedding dress issue has been a dilemma for a while and I've put it off until now.

I have never had the dream of a wedding as an event that somehow supercedes the part where you actually get married and what that then entails. I've hoped to find someone I could love and trust and who could do the same for me. That thought process did not involve puffball sleeves and five-tiered marzipan concoctions. In fact, I was quite against the idea of getting married again. The clue as to why is contained in that last sentence.

My first wedding was a non-wedding. A cheap dress bought in Covent Garden, trip to Brixton registry office, a party at our flat with some friends and neighbours. Feels surreal, thinking back. I was only 21 and didn't know what I was doing. I don't think he did either. The marriage was over very quickly (in just two years) and involved a degree of unpleasantness I would rather forget.

So, I don't particularly want to draw parallels with the past. What was, was, I learned from my mistakes, I have let go of ill feelings, shame and guilt and moved on long ago.

This engagement, the relationship we have with Timo, our coming wedding, really does feel like the first time. In a way, I think I've leaned towards certain decisions just to underline the fact.

So, instead of a "nice dress" bought from some gothicky shop, department store or whathaveyou, I started thinking that maybe it would be comforting and good to really accept that I am going to be the bride, a real bride, not some rushed half-arsed pretend-affair, but actually, really getting married. Properly this time.

We were offered refreshments on arrival at Confetti and Lace, and asked to look around. "You can try on any of the dresses here, so just take your time selecting a few you'd like," we were told.

I'm not sure if I was expecting to find anything on this trip, but on the other hand, the issue of what to wear had bugged me sufficiently in advance to a point where I've looked through so many bridal magazines and websites that I'd actually developed a fairly clear idea of what I didn't want.

Well, that was a start. And in fact, it seems, enough to narrow things down. As was the budget. I wasn't going to, will not, would not even consider (even if it was an option) of spending thousands of pounds on a dress.

In the end, we narrowed things down to three dresses. One of them stood out clearly as a favourite. I'm not going to describe it because Timo reads this blog too. I would quite like to have an element of surprise. All I'm going to say is that it's not what I expected to end up with and I love it.

But the big deal is: I found the dress! It's been ordered and will arrive in April (so they said). Then we'll pop back for the fitting and to see if any alterations are required. Considering we'll be flying out to Finland for the main event in mid-July, it seems silly to think that this was about the last minute to get a so-called "proper dress". Now I understand why people were nagging and tut-tutting at me when I kept saying that I'd wait a little longer.

We will be taking an additional trip to Finland in April, just to sign some paperwork, meet up with the wedding planner again, meet up with the caterer and so on. It will be a short 3-day hop over, but I'm looking forward to it as if it were a holiday.

Hopefully Timo and I can have a real holiday sometime after the wedding. Or a Honeymoon, if you must. Haven't decided on that yet. Were thinking of Sicily or something along those lines. I actually can't remember the last time I travelled somewhere for a holiday that didn't involve some kind of work, planning or organising. Scary thought.

Edited to add later: Since so many people seem to find this blog by Googling "Confetti and Lace", I wanted to add a footnote. The customer service in this shop was lovely... right up to the point of when the money for my dress had left our account. The fitting-and-pickup visit was so off putting (due to the way I was treated by the member of staff) that if I'd have had the time, I would have chosen another company for the dress. Seriously.

Time for some classic advertising

This is an old sweetie wrapper (actually, I suspect it's a picture of a sticker advertising said sweetie) from Finland, circa 1980.

The name of the product is "Lion Pastilles".

The speech bubble says: "How would you like it if I came in your mouth?"

Yes. Really.

I would love to know whether someone got away with a whopper, or whether our minds have just grown progressively smuttier with each passing decade.

In any case, I just had to share.

We can now return to our scheduled programme...

Thanks to Populaari for letting me pinch this (a delightful blog full of stuff like this - although, inconveniently for most of you, written in Finnish).

You'd think there were no supermarkets here... or something

Considering that this year (in stark contrast to last year) I feel very well fed indeed, one might find it a little surprising that I apparently needed to stockpile food today. Alas, it wasn't just any food - today was our annual visit to the Finnish Christmas festival, held at the Finn Guild in Rotherhithe. Timo and I now have the bread, mustard, porridge, lingonberry preserve and, of course, chocolate to see us through the winter season. Or thereabouts. I've asked him to hide the bulk of the chocolate until Christmas. I'm going to try to be good.

Unfortunately they'd sold out of one of the key products I use in traditional Finnish seasonal cooking. It's nothing that amazing; it's a type of syrup, but there really doesn't seem to be an English equivalent. Bugger. Maybe I could ask for someone to send me a tub of it.

I really enjoy the long process of making really old fashioned Finnish Christmas dishes. I don't even attempt to make all of them for one occasion, but there are a couple that take up to 2 days of preparation and cooking time. It's a kind of journey, deeply filled with nostalgia. Smells, textures, ritual. Especially since I seem to have a bit of a knack for it all; everything tends to come out "just like my grandma made them". I still have some of her handwritten recipes.

Looks like I may even be able to have 2 to 3 days off for Christmas this year, which would be absolutely amazing. Such a luxury! The downside of having any professional involvement in retail is that you're there to make sure everyone else's Christmas is great.

This time of the year is bittersweet. Last year's fledgeling attempts to inbue positive thoughts, warmth and fulfillment where all those hollow, sore spots were was a success. I hope to add more this year. And the next. And perhaps, bit by bit, the strangulation of old pain will lessen to nothing more than a chilly undercurrent.