Jamie's blog

“What’s the weather forecast like for tomorrow Tom?”  I was on the train and was coming back from the airport from Ireland, I’d been working for some Irish friends in the making of a sand sculpture.

“Well it’s predicted for heavy rain Jamie.”  I was forlorn as this wasn’t good news.  “There is rain in the morning but it seems to clear in the early part of the day only to start again in the evening.  Shall we go ahead with it?”  The train was rattling away and echoing the process going on inside my head.  Should I get over a dozen artists to drive for hours to a remote beach at the crack of dawn on the off chance that the experiment may be rained off.

“I think it will be OK, let’s go for it.” Then all the messages were sent.  “It’s on.”

It rained heavily during the journey the next day but then a welcomed blue sky began to peel back the clouds to reveal bristling sunshine, although not warm enough to dull the chilling wind of April  2007.  We descended upon the beach and I began to give instructions on the new method of drawing in sand which I had recently devised to make drawing much faster.  This was a typical scenario as each time I do a drawing I am always pushing boundaries and developing the technique.  The drawing that we were to make was extremely ambitious, six times the size of our first drawing only one year previous.

“We need two small teams, Mark you can be the drawer in one team.  Who wants to be Marks personal raker?”  This is the person that follows the Drawer and then fills in the details with the rake.  A very catchy job title if I do say so myself; one for the C.V.  “We can then have general rakers who will rake the sand en masse.”  Not so good for the CV.

Everyone got primed to be ready whilst I directed from the top of the cliff, barking down the walkie talkie and giving instructions only to find that two didn’t work.  Batteries.  Lots of shouting and arm waving then became the norm.  Always in these drawings it seems so complicated at first that there is a general lull before things get going, as nobody really has any idea what they are doing, but as the magic begins to take hold the image moves forward like a wave on the rocks, washing the confused expressions from my friends faces.  It begins with a lot of talking, people are making sure of their position and technique.  But after a while all goes quiet as their concentrated gaze becomes focussed on the end of their tool, whether it is a drawing stick, a rake, or a piece of string, the only noise is the seas mumblings, gently reminding us that it is coming and that we do not have much time left.  We begin drawing patterns in the sand with the knowledge that we are joined in this seemingly fruitless pursuit by many others, all working towards the same goal, each person indispensible.

So why do it?  All that effort and aching backs just to produce a piece of art that by the time it is finished is ready to be erased by our great Mother.  I am not actually sure why. But what I do know is that it feels fantastic, there is an unreal sense of euphoria amongst the group as we have made something special that needed every one of us for it to be.  All the more special as it is fleeting, a moment caught in time for us to remember.   It is almost worth it just to see the expressions of the people taking their Sunday walk along the cliff only to see that below them where there should only be a beach, there is a drawing in the sand.

On the 14^th March this year, we will be making another drawing in Whitby, North Yorkshire, if you want to join us let me know, it will be an early start, from 8am until 12:30.  But this one will be an animated abstraction that grows from a seed and dances to music.  I leave you with this, the concept for the drawing:

“An idea is like a seed.  If you do not nourish it then at best it will stay with you forever but come to nothing, at worst it will rot from your imagination and be gone from the world forever…… But if you feed it,…. then it may grow beyond all imagining.”  A seed is placed in a ball of earth and then thrown from the cliff onto the beach.  It explodes, and then the drawing begins….

Jamie

I returned home from my jaunt to Finland and Sweden last week but couldn’t help posting this comment on my good friend David.

I saw David the other day in Stockholm and met him again in Helsingborg after staying with Johanna and Millis.  David is totally bald now but has an energy of youth that many youngsters would be lucky to ever grasp.  He is an enigma that bestows confidence, kind heart, positivity, opportunity and drama, and he is only too happy to share it with everyone, even if with a wisp of irony to keep us all thinking.

“I am thinking of growing my hair long again David” I once had for only a few years long golden curly locks that dangled from my head to my shoulder, dancing as I moved.  On a stormy day I loved standing with my back to the wind feeling the ringlets bounce around and touch my face.  For sure I suit short hair more than I do long, but it has been some time and I feel that having a ginger mop suits my character somehow more.  “The thing is, I think I’m going a little bald and am not sure if it would look OK.”  At this moment most of my friends would confirm my doubts and take great pleasure in mocking my fantasy and insecurity in one fell swoop.

David on the other hand is a different story.  He is driving the car and looks over at me and begins his flamboyant oratory with Swedish melody “Oh Jamie, you are an artist and can get away with anything, you would look amazing with a bald ginger hair bouncing everywhere.”  He then braces me with his keen eyes and gives a conspiratory chuckle whilst tapping on the steering wheel.  I laugh at this ridiculous parody and remark “Together David we are unstoppable, I think we could conquer the world!”  And I think with David that would be possible, I could just see us growing our balding heads just to see how it would be received and taking great humour in it.  We once picked up a friend Tilly from an airport who had brought with him his pal John that had never been out of England before.  For the occasion we borrowed some of his mothers dresses with flowery prints and greeted the boys as Swedish aupairs prepared with a song and guitar.  I had my long hair in question up in two afro pigtails and David had on a Scottish red wig.  Unfortunately the flight was delayed an hour, so we took great pleasure in entertaining the bemused airport with songs and pantomime; the security had a good sence of humour and we no limits.  When Tilly and John arrived we dashed up to them like dogs on heat and chanted in our best mock Swedish falsetto “Welcome to Sweden, my name is Inga and this is Olga, we have a song to sing for you!”  And, so we sang and everyone else listened, it was an unusual evening for airport arrivals that day.  Tilly’s poor friend John must have though he was on another planet and kept saying that he desperately needed a cigarette.

It is good to have friends that keep you grounded but also some that lift you and inspire new heights which is typical of David.  I feel refreshed having seen him.  It is an uncommon thing for two guys to be able to hit the dance floor as soon as they enter the place with no qualm of self, closing down more than a handful of parties in one night and then rolling in at 5am.  It is probably a good thing that we do not get together too often as it would probably be an unbearable burden for the world to bare.  Perhaps I should keep my hair short just for the moment.

Jamie

I arrived at the train station in Orebro, Sweden to be greeted by Millis.  I know her from my first year of University when I lived in the student hotel on Rosemount road, Bournemouth.  Across the street lived a house packed full of foreign students of which some became lifelong friends.  The last time I saw Millis was four years ago when she had just got a dog with her boyfriend Robert.  At that time the dog was just a puppy, but as it would now be a fully grown Rhodesian ridgeback cross I thought I should try and remember its name.

“What is your dog’s name?..Stveera?” I guessed

“No Tyra.” Replied Millis

“Tyra?.”  I was confused as this didn’t sound so familiar.

“Oh, my dog?  Oh, my dog’s name is Sveea, but my daughter is Tyra, and my son is Malte.”

I was bemused, “You have a son now?”

“Yes!  You didn’t know?”  It had been quite a long time.

I came to the land of the fair and beautiful a few days ago from Finland to Stockholm and had stayed with my very good friend David and his girlfriend Charlotte.  I’d sailed across the Baltic on the ship Gabriella that is owned by the aptly named Viking line.  For me it resembled more the titanic, not for its great bulk but for the ominous sound it made as the steal and iron of the boat cut through the sea ice.  I was staying in a cabin that was below the waterline and all night I had the lullaby of scraping and crunching.  The scene in the film Titanic occurred to me where all the Irish people are trapped in the lower cabins as the water pours in from above.  I even thought about what cloths I would wear if the ship started to sink.  My giant ice boots were so warm but would probably be too heavy to swim in, and my great down jacket would be useless in the wet.  I would have to make sure I would get in a lifeboat on the 9^th floor.  “I am so young, I do not want to die today!”  The safest place ended up being the bar on the 8^th floor which was a stroke of luck.

Millis opened the car and we drove through the snowy city to her house sliding about the road in a controlled manner.  She was relieved that she remembered how to speak English as it has been so long since she last saw me. I had forgotten all my Swedish which was once quite good; I even had trouble remembering how to say ‘Thankyou’ to a lady when I was buying a ticket: “Takk.”

“Tyra is so nervous to meet you.”  Tyra is Millis and Roberts daughter who is four years old.  She has never met a foreigner before, and didn’t understand the concept of other languages and that some people speak with different words and come from different lands.  Robert was trying to explain to her before I arrived:

In Swedish, he said to her “When Jamie wants orange juice he says ‘Orange’, not ‘Appelsin’, that is what they call it in England where he is from.”

“Orange juice” she repeats.  Robert thinks he has got through.  “Ja….”  Very good Robert.  ”…..men han meaner appelsin.”  Yes. But he means appelsin.  Oh dear.

“No, he means orange juice.”

“Ja……, men han meaner appelsin.”  She was not going to budge on this.

Millis and I came through the door to the greetings of Robert and the aroma of baked Salmon ready to serve.  I was hungry as always.  Pottering around was their son Malte who gave me a quick look over and was then unphased, he is two years old and not troubled by foreigners just yet.  Tyra on the other hand who looks much like her mother with blond hair and big blue eyes was totally aghast. Immediately she had no idea what I was saying and was not receptive at all to any of my greetings.  She was to stay stood firmly behind Daddy and nothing was going to convince her otherwise.

After throwing down the bags we went straight to the dinner table for the salmon, and a great salmon it must have once been for it was one of the largest fillets I have seen.  Everyone became seated at the table, me sat next to Robert, then Malte as ready to eat as me, Millis, and sat next to Millis starring right at me with unblinking eyes was Tyra, the guardian of the household and not at all fooled by this imposter.  It is always a funny thing with young children as when they see something they do not understand they will just stare intently at it, and no matter what I did she was not going to give an inch until she had figured out what this strange creature was in her home.  And what’s more, she could no longer understand what her Mamma and Dadda were saying anymore as the noises that now came out of their mouths were also incomprehensible.   ‘What was going on?  Was this the way things were going to be from now on?  And when the stupid creature speaks, he makes no sense, I can understand Malte much more than him and he is only two.  Is this what all foreigners are like?’  She continued to stare at me, processing many thoughts but not speaking a word.

After some time eating, Tyra began to relax a little and talk at least to her parents, but if I so much as moved or spoke she would stare at me again.  ‘What is this guy’s problem?  He doesn’t seem too bad, but I don’t trust him.  This is making me tired, I need to go to sleep,’ which is what she did, I was so impressed that she was able to maintain her cold as ice demure until the very end of consciousness.     In an effort I tried to remember some Swedish and quite quickly learned some basic words from the children, but it was not enough just yet.

Millis, Robert and I chatted into the night and then they showed me my room.  After a deep sleep I woke to the sound of children laughing down stairs which is always a joy.  This continued until I walked down the steps and then Tyra saw me and abruptly stopped.  They were watching cartoons on the TV, something to do with a wolf and a pigs theatre; I sat down to watch with them.  Kids TV is extremely clever as the humour is so basic and universal that even a child and a foreigner can be on the same page.  It was only now that Tyra finally decided that even if I was a little stupid I wasn’t so bad and at least knew how to laugh in the right places.  We laughed together and then she started to point and make jokes about the wolf.  It wasn’t before long that Tyra was running around the house in hysterics, her mother whilst drying her hair had been possessed by the evil blow dryer and it was her quest to escape it.  After breakfast Millis and I had to depart to go and see Johanna in the south of Sweden.  I think Tyra’s parting thoughts of me were that foreigners although a little stupid were OK on a very basic level.  I felt that I had made a good first contact for future international relations and was honoured to be Tyra’s first foreigner.

Unfortunately in true Jamie Wardley style, Millis and I missed our train.  We were not late, just busy talking too much to realise that it had arrived and then gone.  I hope nobody tells Tyra as it will just confirm her preconceptions and confirm her fears that her mummy may have been infected with foreigness.

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I lay there in the snow on my back a little bit worse for ware.  It is 1am and I have been well and truly Finned, my attempt to walk home has encountered a temporary glitch in that I have made it no further than across the road before having to lie down.  This is my second attempt at walking home but the last time I forgot my camera and with great effort had to walk back and get it. ‘Being Finned’ is what the Finnish do to each other on a regular basis, and what they take great delight in doing to foreigners.

As I lay there I began to make a snow angel but then the effort exhausted me.  The main culprit of my situation comes over the road to look at me.  “Jamie, what are you doing in the snow?”  Tero is a delightful chap and the head electrician of the snow castle.  He is such a friendly guy and said that I have always a place to stay if ever I want to come here on a vacation, anytime.  “Yeeees, Jamie, in Finland we get very nervous when people lie in the snow…. because they die.”  Fair point, it was -14.  Still, lying in soft snow is a very seductive pleasure when you just want to go to sleep.  But as Tero pointed out, in Finland that could be for a very long time.

“Yeees, Jamie, I almost forgot, I brought something to show you.”  This was Tero an hour earlier and I am a bit worried as he goes out of the room to fetch what I know to be some instrument of torture.  We had all been celebrating the finishing of the snow castle.  They had had fireworks galore and a choir opening  with “We’re walking in the air” from the snowman, and then somehow merging into “we will rock you” by Queen, and many of their other hits.  Slightly bizarre, but everyone was rather merry I think and thoroughly enjoyed it; I for one was singing at the top of my voice which can be rather loud.    Tero comes back into the room brandishing a bottle of clear liquid.  I was by this stage already feeling a little delicate.  I had made a mistake of sitting in amongst a circle of Finns.  Even though everyone already had a drink in hand, they proceeded to crack open a bottle of whiskey and then pass it round the circle until it was finished.  Peer pressure at its best.  The bottle wasn’t finished before it got to me and so I had to have a second round.  Taavi, who is the project manager of the snow castle grinned at me broadly and then introduced me to the next seven bottles.  So when I saw Tero sat next to me with his clear liquid who’s name I do not remember, I was a little worried.  Let’s just call it 80% as it is those innocent numbers that are burned in my mind.  Tero beamed as he took the cap off, taking a healthy swig and then offering over to me.  Not one to offend I took the bottle knowing too well that this was the end of my night and gulped back what can only be described as acid on fire.  I took it the best I could but began to choke, fortunately the 6^th bottle of whiskey was making a round and I grabbed the bottle to wash down the fire, gulping at it like water.  I have never thought that I would use whiskey to do such a thing.  Anti was so impressed that he then did the same pronouncing that “this is very bad” after a gulp of 80%, and then “this is OK” after the whiskey.

So you can forgive me for wanting to go to sleep in the snow.  Luckily, Kimmo and Tero got me on my feet and I ambled home to the hotel, only to dance for an hour to some blues band to clear my head.

And today I go to Sweden to see some friends who I haven’t seen for some years.  Oh dear.

My unlikely riding partner is a thick set man with a full head of curly hair, he is Anti from Rome, Italy.   Anti is all togged up in a jump suite and me in my sculpting gear.  I have done this once before and remember that you can get pretty cold, especially whilst sat as a passenger on the sled.  But in this case, I was going to get a go at driving.

Our guide shipped us into the middle of nowhere, snow blanketing the ground and bending the trees, a mixture of whites and greys with a pink tint in the sky of the early morning.  And then the barking.

“They know that they are going to run.”  This was our guide Ula, a round faced Finn, quite plump but as I would learn exceptionally fit.  The barking grew even more intense as we approached, Ula then stopped us at a rickety looking sled on the path way.  “I will show you how to use the sled here so that you can here what I’m saying.”  This was a good call as an eruption of howling filed the crystal air.  “To turn the sled lean from side to side like with skis.  The most important thing is that for the first 500 meters to use the break as the dogs really want to run, they will calm down after a while.  And if you stop do not take your foot of the break as the dogs will just leave you.”  Stranded in the arctic tundra with an Italian, I think we would have managed somehow.

We walked to the dogs who greeted us with joyous barks, “they are very friendly, you can stroke them if you like.”  I took the queue and went to greet each of my faithful companions so long as I stayed on the sled.  These are very handsome dogs, real huskies with their blue eyes, but they wanted to get going and were not so interested in my greetings, so before we knew it we were on the sled, Anti ready to drive first and the dogs bouncing all over the place ready to run, tugging on the reigns, urging the brake to be released.

And released it was, we shifted like a bullet out of a barrel but with total silence; dogs do not bark when they run, but they do like to shit a lot and have seemingly mastered it on the move, some dragging their bums on the floor to help things along, occasionally taking in a gulp of snow to quench their thirst or cool down.

After we took a corner and then fell off the sled it seemed a good time for me to have a go.  The dogs do not like to stop and are so eager to move, ready to leave you stranded.  I wonder how far they would run without us.  After Anti had safely got himself seated I took my foot off the break and we sped forward with silent speed again, it is the opposite to motor travel, the faster you go the more quiet it is.  Occasionally you need to take your weight off the sled and run to help the dogs up a hill, and then hold on tight when you go down it at speed, taking care to learn into the corners and shout “Mush!  Good dogs now and again.”  I’m not sure you had to say that but I enjoyed it anyway.  Once past the hills we were on the flats again where you could take in the glorious scenery and contemplate that right now it is just us and the dogs and the crunching of snow under the sled.  The smell of poo was a little distracting.

We travelled 20km in total and warmed up with a hot drink in the tepee by the fire, the smoke spiraling upwards.  Here I saw an old dog come out of the shadows who had a rather regal manner about her and natural authority.   She strode up to me, pelt black and white, blue eyes looking straight at me.  She was the Alpha female Nina, head of all the dogs and I think Ula’s favourite, a companion of 12 years and still sometimes running, but only with Ula.

I just got in and can feel the frost still nipping at my cheeks.  Yesterday there was a storm here and although it was only -8 we had to walk against the wind on our way to work it was so strong.  The Finns call this ice hotel ‘Lumillina’ which means ’snow castle.’ This was never more appropriate than yesterday as the wind battered against the ramparts but protected those who were inside which was all of our team on the decision of Kimmo.  The only sign of the tempest outside was the stricken faces of those coming in from the blizzard outside and of the cold wind blowing through the tunnels.  For the past few days I’ve been making some jewelry and chess pieces, one of which is noticeably phallic; refer to the photographs.  My task for yesterday however was to make a necklace as the doorway to the gallery.  My eyes were streaming with tears as I was blasted by the tunneling wind against me, two hours in and I noticed that my chin was freezing as my beard gathered the frost.  Time to put on my balaclava from Timo.

“Tomorrow Jamie, I need you to go outside.”  This was the harsh news from Kimmo as we enjoyed a few drinks with the international students last night.  I was going to work on another ice wall inside but it seems that we have quite a lot to do on the exterior, ie, make the bricks of the castle.  I soon absorbed the sobering news with a stiff drink, but was then abashed when the French student that just sat next to me glared at me and said:

“I ‘ait the Inglish.”  This was later followed by such remarks as “The Inglish are so stupid and pretentious.”  But do not worry, I gave as good as I got.  In fact I would say I had the upper hand until a Scottish girl joined in the conversation laying claim to an old alliance of the 13th centuary.  There was also an Irish lad which could have sealed the deal against me, but then he was Ginger like me which is a bond almost as thick as blood.  Together, we made a front against the Franco Scottish alliance and held firm.  The French girl Nina informed me that back home they called us ‘Roast Beef’ and this morning said “So ‘ow is Rost beef doing?”

“Fine thank you.  Now be a good Frog and hop along,”  I replied.  She took it in the best possible way.

The storm had passed by this morning but the temperature had dropped to -22 with wind and I was to be outside with Jukke Likealickalot.  The hairs in my nose didn’t freeze but my eyes watered and my eyelashes began to freeze up again.  I did however get to play with my old toy of last year the ‘moon walker’.  This is an mobile extendable arm that is the worst nightmare of anyone suffering from vertigo as it can go so high and is rather unsteady as the small cage you are in is shaking from side to side.  It also occasionally panics and begins to beep at you uncontrollably with red lights flashing so that you know that it is unsteady on its wheels and in danger of tipping over.  This would be a rather unfortunate incident, especially as I am carrying chainsaw and sharp chisels in my cage which I would like to add are now very, very sharp thanks to the wisdom of Uldis Zarins (www.artofuldis.com).

So tomorrow is our last working day and we have a lot to do.  I need to stay off the celebrations a little though as I am going husky sledding on Saturday morning which will be simply divine.  I cannot wait for that!  But until then I will enjoy the vast panoramic views of frozen Finland from the birds eye view of my moon walker.  And make some bricks.

Cheerio for now

Jamie.

Today I awoke with aching forearms.  I had been a fool by breaking two cardinal principles, never use blunt tools and don’t let yourself become cold.  I had been using a blunt chainsaw all day yesterday making some table ends and had had cold hands, eventually catching a bit of a chill which was cured later by the sauna.  My advice to anyone thinking of using a chainsaw is to make sure it is sharp and it you don’t know how then learn.  It will change your life.  Well maybe not.  I re-sharpened the chainsaw today on account of my aching forearms and it cut through the ice like butter, no resistance, I really should have sharpened it properly yesterday.  The second thing is to make sure you are warm, if you are working and your body becomes cold regardless of whether it is -20 or +5 degrees, you will get hurt.

Today it was -22.  I knew it was pretty cold before I saw the thermometer, the snow sounds like you’re walking on polystyrene and the cold bites at your skin.  As I walked out the door of the hotel the dryness of the air began to make me cough, the colder the air the less moisture it can hold, drawing the very moisture from your lungs.  But the real indicator was the hairs inside my nostrils beginning to freeze, I have never had this before, I could feel them stiffening up with frost and then crunching back to normal as I flared my nostrils, only to refreeze as I exhaled through my nose.  I then began to breath out of my mouth.

Luckily I was working inside the ice hotel again and I put on my warmest of cloths including my duck down jacket; Juha calls me the “bird murderer.”  I was quite happy in my cave listening to Florence and the Machine all cosy and warm.  I ventured outside to have a tinkle and was witness to the most hardy of chaps grimacing in the unbearable cold, faces all red as their bodies fight the cold.  Temperature is such a peculiar thing, inside the normal hotel it is unbearable to put on all the warm cloths in the morning  as it is just so uncomfortable with the stifling heat, but as soon as you are outside you cannot wait to get them on and are grateful for it as you feel the cold creeping through your cloths with its delicate frosty fingers.  “Keep out Jack Frost!” I say.  Thank God for ducks, whatever would we do without them.

Jamie

So here we are at the Ice Hotel in Kemi Finland. I’m one of the lucky ones as I’ve so far spent all my time inside my snow tunnel sheltered from the wind. Juha came by yesterday and complained that he had frostbite on his cheek from the wind as he’s been working outside most of the time. I just laughed but then offered my balaclava as a concerned after thought; he declined being a macho Finn. There is a lot of testosterone here, it is all men and everyone is yielding a chainsaw or some other sort of dangerous machine. The guys with the large chainsaws look pretty cool, but I think it must be the huge digger that has the final say, I would not want to mess with that. When we are walking around the site we have to wear a flashing head torch so that they can see us. There is one machine that is particularly daunting, this is the tractor that has a rotovator on the front, which churns up the snow and then spits it out onto the forms to make the snow walls. We were joking earlier in the sauna that if you got caught up in that your flashing head torch could be mistaken for a shooting star; quite a spectacular final farewell.

I’ve so far made a poster and a printing press and was today with my old friend Sergey from Russia who is making a Sibelius scene. Tomorrow I am in the snooker room making a bit of furniture. In the making of the hotel there is the construction team with the big machines and ideas, and then there is our small team of six who are like interior designers. We help make it look pretty. Until tomorrow.

Jamie

Today was the last day to finish our sculptures.  I cut away the snow with a blunt chainsaw to make the last sections of my nest whilst the other guys made all their finishing touches before the end of the competition at 2pm.  It is always a bit of a rush on the last day, there is often much more work to do than you first realise, especially with ice continuing to form on my eyelashes.   But we all got there, me having to do a little run now and again to warm up my hands which were freezing because of all the slush I was having to make.

Aside from the competition my mission for the day was to get a photo of Santa on his quad bike and to have a go at riding a snow mobile.  Santa minus reindeers is below.  Poor old rudolf has been usurped by 700 horse power, four cillindered quad bike with catapillar tracks.  But then I did not see the bike fly, so maybe Rudolf still has the advantage in the high season.

The snow mobile was incredible.  Mikka took me and Rodrigo on the lake a little faster than the ‘normal’ tourists.  This did not suprise me as we carraded through the snow at ridiculous speeds in the dark, always careful not to get too close to the person in front, just in case you hit them; “Snow mobiles slide you see.  And if you feel yourself going over water, just hit the throttle hard and go over it.”  This was another ‘Oh My God Moment.’  Rodrego and I adorned the correct gear and jumped on our bikes after a few novelty photographs with large smiles and waving arms.  And then down to the serious business of turning on the bike and hitting the throttle.  These things go fast, and I mean seriousely fast, charging accross the lake bouncing over all the bumps on the track and occasionally cutting through the virgin snow to make new tracks, scarring yourself now and again as you feel the mobile bouncing out of control underneath you, but then gaining confidence and letting the people in front go forward so that you can hit the throttle full just for a moment; hold on tight, because if you don’t you won’t have a snow mobile underneath you anymore.

We gathered for our ceremony where Christina and Satu had come to judge. They took us around all the sculptures to make their comments.  For my sculpture ‘The nest’  they were “wordless.”  I am now known as “Wordless Wardley”.  It is a good thing that I have nothing important to say.  Fortunately this did not go against me as I won joint first prise with Rodrego.  This was his first snow sculpture and a great success, well done lad.  Natasha came third with her Snail which I thought was great.  Afterwards we got on Santa’s sleigh to celebrate and he pulled us on his quadbike to his log cabin where we were given presents, I hugged him and all was forgiven for his shortage of presents this year.

So now we are just getting ready to find an ice sauna in the forrest, and afterwards take a taste of the local night life. I will have to recover on the plane if I manage to catch it.  Not the first time believe me.

Cheerio for now

Jamie

Today is New Years day and what a marvel it is to behold.  We saw the new year in by seeing a fire work display that was more like a scene from a war movie with low flying fireworks and the worst fire juggler on earth.

“Now I’m going to…has anyone ever tried to do a hand stand? “  We all cheer, if this is anything like the head stand that he did earlier then it is going to be great.  “Well, for my last act I am going to do a hand stand.”  We are all immediately impressed.  “But when I stand on my hands I am going to spin this stick that is ON FIRE with my feet!”  Oh my God.  Fire Man Sam them proceeds to do a hand stand with his burning stick in his feet, he then begins to actually spin the stick which is incredible considering his flailing head stand trick from earlier that looked like a dying spider on fire.  But he then unfortunately drops it.  “Thank you and good night!” he says with a mighty gusto that just earned him 500 euros.  This boy has some front.

Rodrigo was the first on the court, chipping away at his snow sculpture that is called ‘The Shadow.’  I then ambled out, cheerely listening to some more mellow music to start off the day, whilst cosely wrapped in all my warmest cloths to keep out the cold.  Unfortunately, my big down jacket could not protect my eyes.  I went to take some photos and found that my vision was a little difficult, I put this down to the cold wind but was then corrected by Timo who pointed out that I had ice forming on my eye lashes.  Ice should never form on ones eyelash.  It is silly cold here.

To warm up we plodded along to Misses Clauses hut where she serves the most delicious hot hot soup; moose yesterday and salmon today.  When you have six people sat around a table drinking soup at -20 degrees, the scene ironically resembles a Turkish Sauna with all the steam that is produced.  Santa Claus drops by sometimes on his Quad bike and I was lucky enough to have a chat with him over a full bodied cup of coffee poured from the black kettle from the fire.  It seems that Rudolf and the clan are resting up after a heavy Christmas; reindeer soup tomorrow perhaps.  I challenged Santa Clause on why I only received five presents this year.  It seems he has not been that impressed with my behaviour this year.

After having coffee with the Big Man I then had a quick spin on the husky sleigh which is so great everyone should do it.  Husky dogs are the most amazing creatures, grace and power combined with a pinch of speed thrown into the mix; especially on the down hill.

But then I still had a sculpture to make which is why we are here.  I made the eggs for my nest and all is coming along now, it no longer looks like a swirling mess and has developed some good forms.  I was gluing snow twigs on this late evening with buckets of slush that then freezes and holds  them in place.  Unfortunately, the slush also froze around my gloves, so much so that I could no longer move my hands and sculpt; a sculptor with no hands; how are we supposed to work in these condition?  Again, it is silly cold here and forced me to end my day.

So now to end the day it is Sauna time.  Timo says “Hi.”