The Susanne

Third semester MA stu­dent of literature/publishing seeks eli­gible bach­elor for casual dates with the pos­sib­il­ity of a won­der­ful future. I can offer many pas­sions (includ­ing  but not lim­ited to lit­er­at­ure, fine cuisine, horse­back riding and moun­tain hikes), a sweet dis­pos­i­tion and a tol­er­ably nice physique. All applic­ants will be assessed and replied to within an accept­ible time frame.

P.s. Moon­lit walks on the beach, anyone?

I miss ye olde photo booths. The ones where I’ve had my pic­ture taken with a loved one every now and then since 1984, be it mother, sister, best friend or lover. Why do I not use these any­more? I know they do exist – so what’s the deal? Is this final proof that we have entered the digital era?

via la Photocabine

…just in case it wasn’t per­fectly clear: of course we didn’t make it to London. Not only did we miss Sam’s birth­day, we missed the whole week­end and the book fair on which we’d based the whole issue of the magazine. Emer­gency /Plan B meet­ing tonight went ok but still depressed. BAH

Katla = scary (age 7)

Katla = scary (age 25)

As Eyafjällajøkull appears to be headed into its third and last stage of erup­tion we all hold our col­lect­ive breath wor­ry­ing whether Katla will now start to erupt. When I was little, Katla was the name of the dragon owned by the vil­lain Tengil in the book Bröderna Lejonhjärta by Astrid Lind­gren. I was dead scared of Katla then, and I must admit I’m a not far from ter­ri­fied now, twenty-​odd years later…

After count­less rejec­ted calls and then finally 40 minutes of listen­ing to The Beatles trying to get through to the air­line, I’ve finally man­aged to book us all on a flight at the break of dawn on Monday. Also have been on the phone to the hotel people and a very nice man called Tom is doing his utmost to change our reser­va­tion without fees and with a full refund for the lost week­end. I hardly dare hope, espe­cially as I’m up against none other than the Devil him­self….

Photo by AP / Landhelgisgæslan

It is becom­ing more and more appar­ent that the hope I’ve held on to that we’d make it to the book fair some­how, is futile. Our souls are dark, dark places of much anguish at the moment. On the other hand, Ice­land and its skies look quite pretty. (Too bad, they really don’t need this after everything they’ve been through in the last couple of years…)