Part 2 “….AND FROM THIS MOMENT PLEASE, IN MORE DETAIL”. To write shortly and in detail, one has to think at leength and not be distracted, or even not react to the sun, which today is shining brightly “straight in the eye.” I decided to give it the subtitle “Everyday stuff.” In stories from past years I have already written how wonderfully I spent those almost 3 tourist months. I had to go back to my homeland when the visa ended. People close to me asked whether I talked with Ivan’s daughters, and in what language. ...

“…. AND FROM THIS MOMENT PLEASE IN MORE DETAIL !” I keep the blog with the help of my Norwegian husband. If it were not for his skill and knowledge of computers, I would hardly have bothered and written my “memoirs.” Once he asked what I write about. I even got confused; you cannot answer that in two words at once. I started saying that they are memories of the past, of my parents, of my homeland. “And have you written anything about our family?” — “Yes, but without particular details, as they say, I didn’t ‘air the dirty linen.’” He was even slightly surprised that there is nothing shameful in writing about jointly lived moments in relations with his daughters. ...

Such a sign — a reminder — hangs before the entrance to the showers at the pool we have been going to for four years already. But my overall unbroken swimming record is already 13 years. All my movements in preparing to swim have been worked out to automaticity. And that is what this automaticity led me to last Sunday. On Sundays my husband and I try to arrive at opening, at 10 o’clock. At that time there are few people; we each swim our own quota: my husband swims one and a half kilometres, and I 800 metres breaststroke. Going into the changing room I follow the rules — take off my shoes, go to the locker, undress neatly down to nothing, so as not to attract attention, say, of a 6-year-old boy whom his mother has brought into the women’s changing room (although the rules forbid this). But that happens, and no one bothers anyone or makes remarks. ...

The article has a tempting title: «Lokker med 300000 kroner om bygger hus i denne kommunen» (we attract people with 300 thousand kroner to build houses in this municipality). In the municipality of Iveland there live only 1,300 inhabitants. There is a school and a kindergarten. It is set in a picturesque place, but not on the coast. The mayor of the municipality, a young attractive woman, Gro-Anita Mykjåland, tells: in the 1970s the municipality numbered only 700 people, and in 2020 more than 1,300 inhabitants. ...

“You wait three years for what was promised.” That is how the photographs sent from my youth were signed. Almost half a century has passed since then…. I did not wait, did not wait… And then, like snow. I remember myself well — that I did not like being photographed, but that is how it turned out… I will dare to write about the author. He deserves it! Vovka was lucky! Right after school he got into the cinematography course at the Kiev Theatre Institute named after Karpenko-Kary. In Soviet times that was very cool. An evening student, the youngest on the course. And the specialization “Cinematographer” had only just opened, thanks to one man who was recruiting that course. The students nicknamed him “Papa.” His surname was Smorodin. I think he brought many people up in the world. ...

I do not want to quote the classic Mikhail Zadornov, but I cannot write it any other way: “Well, you dummies!” I will explain whom I addressed this to. Yesterday was Wednesday, and the Norwegian people made a shopping tour to Sweden, through the border crossing at Svinesund. I take it that Norwegians, without breaking their gastronomic shopping traditions before Easter, tore across the border in their cars to the Swedish town of Strömstad. ...

There are days when you remember clearly the hard moments in your own life and in the lives of those close to you. On 31 March my grandfather Sergei Sergeyevich Dorofeyev would have had his birthday — 119 years. I have already written my childhood and youth memories of him. It is precisely today, as they say “on the topic of the day,” that I remembered what illness tormented him all his life. The illness was called emphysema of the lungs. He smoked all his life and drank. In Soviet times it was rare for anyone not to “drink.” My story now is not about that… but about the cough that appeared in him before the war of 1941. ...

That is a word-for-word translation from Norwegian of an article in the local newspaper. Quarantine has spurred Norwegians into cleaning their homes and throwing out rubbish. Since there are a great many private houses in Norway, we sort the small rubbish into three bins of different colours, plus a special bag for plastic. Plastic bottles and drink cans we take to a special machine at the supermarket. Glass bottles and jars also have to be driven to the supermarket and thrown into a special container. ...

The present situation in Norway — the local population grabbing toilet paper as if it were the main staple of the Norwegian Kingdom — has pushed me into reflections on my distant past. Yes, imagine: it turns out I had a “difficult childhood,” and my tender places experienced the “bitterness” of Soviet newspapers! Yes! Every Soviet family subscribed to the newspaper Pravda. They “recommended” taking out a yearly subscription right at workplaces and institutions. There were special “members” of the party and the trade unions who handled subscriptions on the spot. ...

I am not a translator — I am only “learning,” but my “studies” with Norwegian will last until the end of my life. Oh well! Still, I do have a desire to read in Norwegian the little newspaper that my husband, early in the morning before he leaves for work, quietly brings me, without disturbing my sweet morning sleep. So I read, and I am not too lazy to open my dictionary, which weighs about as much as a brick. I have already written that I became a car enthusiast in Norway. And I continue to take an interest in the automobile theme. I can already tell a Mercedes from a Toyota, and I can even name the latest Tesla models. 🤣 But closer to the point! ...