random rancid rambles

By rancidand

Skooter lads

The local youth don't have mopeds, but they do hotdog in the petrol station forecourt on these.

Since there are no restrictions on skooter use in the outdoors in Sweden this place is a magnet for people wanting to fool around or fools wanting to fool around if you prefer.

Longshanks version:

Found some smoky finnish dark beer, and said goodbye to James.

The Call of the North by Tapio Huttunen

It comes from something inside, from thoughts, my mind, I know not from where.
It comes from somewhere outside, from the fell, the rapids, the sea shore, I know not from where.
It can come when the heavens blaze as the northern lights rip asunder the star filled sky.
I feel it when the waves of the sea crash violently against the steep cliffs of the shore.
I hear it in the song of the swan on the wilderness lake.
See it in the petals of the tiny mountain flower.
Its voice is powerful when the blue dusk spreads its cloak across the frozen winter
A great longing takes hold in the bright light of the mountain sun
When I fit my steps to the narrow mountain path or the soft mossy tussocks of the fen, where the scent of marsh tea intoxicates nd silence fils my ears.
On the mountain peak where the rest of the world remains below, where it indeed belongs.
Then I see, hear, feel the call of the north.

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