|We are leaving for the airport now.
The long trip home begins......
Good bye Norway
Gordon wanted to add one of many stories not yet put into writing:
Post Scriptum: Whilst bouncing along a bumpy dirt road in the middle of Mongolia some weeks ago, the non-English speaking driver kept turning to Liz (she was in the front passenger seat - if she can’t be the captain, she likes to be the vice-captain), gesturing to me in the back, and putting his fingers to his nose. Liz was (quite rightly) offended by his observation. She wasn’t claiming his observation was untrue, mind you - she merely took some small umbrage that he would share his observation about the stinky passenger with the stinky passenger’s wife. She wasn’t sure how to react - had she a mind to, she could have objected, but then we might have found ourselves turfed out of the vehicle and alone in the Mongolian wilderness. As it was, she just continued to accept the regular insults about my hygiene. (In my opinion, she could have offered up some ameliorating circumstances in my defence, like “I’m sorry, but he only brought ‘Brut’ on this trip”; or “I’m sorry, but he needs to use naphthalene flakes to keep the silverfish out of his underwear”. But, no - not a word in my defence. Anyway, after a considerable period of time during which the driver continued to cast aspersions on my alleged odour, it eventually became apparent that the driver was concerned about a smell immediately BEHIND me. He had filled a jerry can with petrol to ensure we reached our destination, and the container was leaking fuel. So, he wasn’t being rude after all. (Still doesn't explain Liz not sticking up for me though…)