We’ve just had a power cut here in Gol. At first I thought it was just our building, but then I noticed that there were no lights on in the Kommunehus next to us. We still had net access here at work thanks to a small Wifi router that has a large backup battery. I checked our webcam and discovered that it stopped transmitting pictures just after eight thirty this morning. So don’t expect any webcam updates until I get the chance to restart the Mac mini.
It made me think back to the 1970’s in Britain: those grim years of the energy crisis and the three day week, when oil prices were driven up dramatically by OPEC. In Britain, workers went on strike and the power industry workers joined in. I remember family evenings huddled round a tiny Russian built portable telly connected to a car battery, watching the BBC, eating dinner by candlelight and bathing in a bucket. Such happy memories.
I came into work yesterday to find two emails, both sent on Sunday, both informing council employees of the death of our mayor. Olaug Grønseth Granli had been fighting cancer for some time and finally died in her sleep on Sunday.
I don’t remember meeting her in person and also don’t know the details of her illness. However, there are many of my collegues who did know her personally and who are now in mourning for their friend, collegue, political opponent and relative. It has been very quiet here in the council offices in the last couple of days.
It is a strange situation for me to be in, not being personally affected in any way, yet being surrounded by people who are. It makes me think of the Heinrich Böll short story entitled “My Sad Face” for some reason.
The funeral will take place on Friday this week.
The mayor is dead, long live the mayor.
I woke at five this morning and heard distant popping noises. Something wasn’t right, and my first reaction was that maybe something had gone wrong with the Webasto petrol heater I’d just finished installing in the Dyane. When I looked out of the bedroom window I saw a glow in the sky above us, so it wasn’t the Dyane. My next thought was that it was a car on fire on the other side of the flats just up from our house.
However, it turned out to be a house fire on Tronderudvegen much further up the hill. Fortuately, the residents were woken by a fire alarm (a good reason to make sure you have them in your home and that you check regularly that they are working) and did not suffer any serious injury. Sadly there is nothing left of the house nor their belongings. The police and fire services are investigating the cause of the fire.
For me, it was quite scary to see how quickly a modern wooden house can burn to the ground. Until we moved to Norway I’ve lived in brick and concrete houses, which I think are a bit more fire resistant (even if they are not).
More on the story at the Hallingdølen website. (Update 20140309 subscribers only now)
Here are some pictures taken by me from Briskevegen this morning, in chronological order: