I've been watching Carnivále for ten weeks now and I quite like it, even though I'm not sure what's going on just yet. The writers have done a great job at luring us into the series without actually telling us anything about anyone. I hear some people are comparing this series to Twin Peaks, and I think I'll have to agree. Even though I never watched Twin Peaks, but that's one of those series "everyone" had an opinion about no matter what.

I am also enjoying reading Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson. It was recommended to me (thanks, Lindy) about a week ago and I went straight to some huge online bookstore which name I shall not reveal (Amazon, where else?) and ordered it. How they got the book to me in just two days, I don't know, but that's not the first time. I swear they've got a hidden warehouse somewhere in Norway. Anyway, although the book is slightly wrong, I like it a lot. I guess it's because I'm so fascinated by languages and because it's interesting to read a native English speaker's thoughts about his own language, the one I'm spending my life trying to learn (an ongoing project, in other words, and not an easy task.)

Since this is Norway, we're used to some white substance called snow to be covering most of us for at least six months a year. Some of this snow turns into ice, which is transparent and more slippery than snow, due to changes in the outdoor temperature. As this ice phenomenon is such a slippery one, people tend to fall when trying to walk (as opposed to skate) on this surface, leading some frustrated members of the community to come up with the idea of gravelling at one point in history (location undisclosed, but that doesn't matter as long as the idea was a good one.) The problem is of course that gravel doesn't melt like snow and ice do, so for the past couple of weeks we've been disturbed by big vehicles that have been cleaning our pavements. However, last Thursday I was minding my own business, sipping a cup of coffee and looking out of the window in my office when suddenly my eyes caught a glimpse of an elderly lady with a shopping bag and a broom scurrying about outside, a few yards away. I had to call on the others to try and figure out what she was doing. Apparently she had no plan whatsoever. She was sweeping the pavement for a couple of seconds, then stopping, turning around, looking at what she'd done, walking a few feet and starting over. She did this for a long time before suddenly leaving, not to be seen again. Later in the day we saw the result of what she'd been doing - all over the place there were small heaps of gravel with clear marks of her broom around them. She must have made at least fifty such heaps, and none of them of any use to anyone. Why did she bring the broom to the store, I wonder? She obviously lived a bit further down the road; why did she not sweep her own pavement? Is this a matter of great importance to human kind? Possibly! (Anything is possible, you know...)

Current track: The Pixies - Where is My Mind?

Labels: humour, linguistics, literature, online shopping, personal, TV