I met a fellow BDer!!

[Oddwen]

That. Was. AWESOME! Utterly worth the thousand dollars and 40 hours of traveling back and forth.

(I would have had this post up a week and a half ago, but I've been catching back up on REB, PandA, H*R, etc.)

I have eight albums full of pictures on my Facebook! I went for quantity over (Rune's) quality, unfortunately. The only events I missed were the erotic cherry eating contest, and the recording of Die Kunst der Wurst's first hit single. The latter because my batteries were dead, and the former because...well, I'm not quite that nasty yet.

Many many many thanks to Nogrod, Aganzir, Lommy, Greenie and cryptkeeper Annina who arranged all of the transportation and housing and meals for so many strange people.

Helsinki and the surrounding areas in the summer is a dream come true. Rocks and trees and forests and seas...not to mention ice cream stands on every corner...streets relatively safe for the bare feet...and a BarrowDowner wherever you care to turn. : )

I was incredibly sad not to be introduced to the famous Theodred, as he disappeared some while ago. Something to do with Grima's Makeup shop, I assume.


Nogrod (Evil Man, nasty wolf), Aganzir (Evil Monster, Evil Zombie, You B****, Pixiediculous, Aghh-aghh!), Lommy (Moo-Moo!),Greenie (Oink-Oink!), I had met last year, but was sad that that visit seemed rushed. I was very glad to see them while they were awake. Noggy is an always-sneakily-recording-things hippie, Aganzir is queen of all she surveys, Lommy is a darling and Greenie is a dearie.

Legate (Messy) is fun to listen to, whether he speaks sense or nonsense or Star Wars quotes or chants about sausage. He and Lommy together were so sweet together it made my teeth hurt. He reminds me of the babe.

The Owl (a bad move), poor owl. Best not speak of it.
Squatter (, Evil Horse, Nasty Wolf), is hilarious, intelligent and inebriated, a punching bag to small children, and long it was that we sang Strong Bad songs by the campfire. Looks like we're gonna have to juuuuuuump...

Hookbill (You dead!, Tyhmä) is way taller than I expected. That's what I get from letting "the Goomba" influence me. Also, he is Alien. He tried to burn down the cabin and steal all of the buses, not to mention being sick everywhere. I don't envy Lommy and Aganzir's having to clean their apartment after he left. He has the power of voodoo. If he ever comes to the USA, we shall have an Awesome Sock Battle and this time I shall emerge victorious.

Mel Gibson (The Gibbinator) was defeated at last.

Esty (), as reported many times in this thread, is super duper nice, super duper knowledgeable, and just generally super duper, even though she kept trying to steer errant conversations back to Tolkien, of all things...or cherries...*wink* Her readings of LotR on her last evening were a major highlight.

Volo (Me-Me) is amusing, and not at all boring. He reminded me that shoes are a prison for your feet, so we cast them off and aired our toes on the streets of Helsinki together. I don't remember if I've ever heard his voice before, but when I did, it was...right.

Alcohol (Karhu, Beleg, Viking Blod, etc.) was a dear friend to many, bringing joy and laughter wherever he went. Oft he would go astray, but merry (and many) were the quests to bring him back, stronger and more plentiful than before.

Pitchwife (Evil moon), I say, indeed! I third the comments about his voice, it was always awesome when he would shout in surprise at something. It was also through Pitchie that we discovered just how silly pouring pancake batter on someone's head isn't.

Elevators (elevators), they take me up, then they bring me down.

Shasta (Eee-Eee!, wrapped in leathaaaa, Nasty Wolf) was someone I knew from WW reputation only. He's an amazingly vibrant person, always singing & dancing or wanting to, even though his trip was fraught with peril and frustration and France. We had great times singing together on the swings at the beach, though our particular song repertoires only overlapped on "Bohemian Rhapsody".

Jon Snow (Jon Snow) was a no-showing, no-knowing illegitimate son, so we made fun of him. It's a good thing he didn't make it though, we would have given him the Sean Beating of his life and he would have cried all the time, and then Aganzir would have been upset with us.

Rikae (Evil mama) & Mac (Evil papa) were, alas, the people I spent the least time with. A lot of their time was taken up urging the Wereduckling (Awwww) to unleash violence upon the evil and the English. They are lovely together, very nice and a very wicked couple. I would have loved to have plotted Simmish things with Rikae.

Kath (Woof-Woof!) has been called "The Normal Brit", but I personally would call her something more like "The Not Gibberingly Insane Brit", since she does have a very silly streak to her as well. She is also sweet and caring and puppy-cute.

the phantom (the pantsdom) appeared in all of the Paper Telephones, Stories and most of the other games, so it was like he was actually there, unable to protest his own mistreatment, which is just the way I like it.

skip spence (, "Play Twinkle Twinkle", Nasty Wolf) - always grinning, always musical, and his thirst for the Tango is insatiable. He attempted to teach me to dance, but I failed. His dance with Pitchie was no doubt largely due to the rumors of Pitch's very high score in the cherry eating contest.

Rune (Nasty Cobbler, Sniffle Spreader) had a cold when he arrived, so naturally (Rune's Quality Plague) it spread to several Downers. He then lorded it over his victims (only me, at that time), taunting them, dancing around them and singing, and irritatingly being able to breath through his nose. Otherwise, he's a very fun young man, and I shall write another poem about him when I have more than a couple of hours to devote thought to him.


You had all better make it to Britmoot, or I shall be very sad.

Originally Posted by Aganzir

the nastiest things were without exception written by her.

But they weren't the only nasty things being written...

I don't want to wait another yeeeeeearrrrrrrrrr!

When I think of my Finlandmoot things,
Then I don't feel so baaaaaaad...

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

And the circles and the ages and the ages...

Or words to that effect. I was the first to leave Finlandmoot, dragging reluctant heels back to the featureless void that is reality. Naturally, having more time than anyone else to spend on documenting the whole affair in tediously minute detail I've done nothing of the sort. I start out with good intentions like 'today I'll post my perspective on Finlandmoot' only to find long afterwards that the time has been expended in looking up references to Dwarves in HME or driving to London. Or taking the ferry across the river to eat mussels and drink beer. Come to think of it, this would be a pretty good place for a Downsmoot...

Such directionless stalling aside, it falls to me to reveal the truth behind the headlines. I was there: I know where the bodies are buried; I recall only too well how narrowly the Barrow Downs avoided war with Estonia, and how Estelyn had to sneak out of Finland disguised as a newt. The image of Nogrod dressed as Venezuelan shepherd and waving an egg-whisk in the direction of Sweden will stay with me forever. I digress, though. Perhaps it would be better to start at the beginning.

As some of you may have noticed, I haven't been around much for about five years or so. It was therefore something of a surprise when I received an invitation to a new Barrow-Downs event. I recognised one or two faces on the list, so I replaced my old passport and booked myself some flights (actually this took quite a long time, but the magic of prose allows me to compress it all into one sentence).

Skipping forward a few months, it turned out that Oddwen and I were supposed to arrive within ten minutes of each other, and that I was to land first. This turned out to be a shameless fabrication on the part of British Airways, who got me to Vantaa half an hour late due to some sort of aerial traffic jam. This was not an auspicious start, but it wasn't the worst airport disaster of the week. Stumbling dazedly out of baggage reclamation, still reeling from trying to read the Financial Times on the flight, I was hailed by some odd-looking people. Either this was my first meeting with my hosts or I was about to be mugged. Perhaps both.

Fortunately the natives were friendly, although some idiot had put the steering wheel on the wrong side of their car. We were whisked into Helsinki for a bit of sitting down, which I hadn't done since getting off the plane. Back at Nogrod's place we were regaled with a fine dinner of roast duck and wine, which was the opening salvo in a barrage of alcohol that lasted for the remainder of the trip. Some might say that I'm not obliged to drink it just because it's there, but those people are, not to put too fine a point on it, wimps. This was my first experience of Nogrod's granite death-fortress, and I must admit that the large collection of cookery books came as something of a shock. Unlike most of the people who bought those books, though, he can actually use them. We ate very well while staying there. Some of the details are a bit hazy, but by this time there were six of us: Me, Nogrod, a very tired Oddwen, Thinlómien, A Little Green and Legate of Amon Lanc (I always thought that was a nice title).

After varied banter, we went for a walk in the park. I've been to London, so I know what to expect from a city park; I was therefore completely unprepared for Helsinki's version, which is simply to end the city and call the countryside just outside a park. There was enough room for a hockey pitch (on which people were playing ice hockey without ice), an archery range from the XV Olympiad in 1952, and everything between us and Lapland. The obvious message was that you don't want to get lost in Helsinki or you'll end up at the North Pole three months later. It was a lesson I was glad to learn, just as I was pleased to discover that settees have been placed at strategic intervals around Helsinki for the comfort of passing walkers. The most logical and reasonable explanation we could think of for the random sofa was that someone was moving to the forest one piece of furniture at a time, which tells you everything that you need to know about the rôles played in Finlandmoot by logic and reason. Returning to the Dark Tower of Nameless Dread, we whiled away the remainder of the evening in Downish wise. Thus ended the first day.

At this point I have to admit that I can't remember in what order everyone turned up. I know that by the time we went to Suomenlinna and - more importantly - a Finnish supermarket, Hookbill and Estelyn were in evidence, and on that day I also encountered Aganzir for the first time. I do remember that we left Oddwen sleeping as only someone with transatlantic jet-lag can, but that she joined us later. The fortifications at Suomenlinna were sadly inadequate as a base from which to conquer the universe, there being no working guns and a café instead of a magazine. Legate and I walked over them together, and realised quite quickly that the Downs will have to launch its campaign from a different national monument, and that I can't read Russian. Once Oddwen arrived, we all sat down for a picnic at the beach, just like the Secret Seven, except there were eight of us and everything else was completely different too. Later on we were joined by Pitchwife before wending our weary way back to the Command Centre.

Day Three saw Estelyn leaving ludicrously early in the morning to pursue her dark paths through the fabric emporia of Finland. Nogrod, Pitchwife and I preferred a more civilised and altogether slower start to the day. Eventually, at the crack of noon, Pitchwife and I were ready to venture outside. Nogrod remained on guard against the arrival of more invaders from across the sea while we hijacked a bus. I realise that it will seem strange to other Downs members, but somehow we ended up in a bookshop (I think that Kirjakauppa may have been the first Finnish word I learned, but more of my linguistic exploits later). We met Aganzir, Estelyn and Hookbill for a trip around the Ateneum, where there was indeed very much art. Some paintings depicted snow inside a living room, which reminded me of my student days. By this time I’d just about begun to get the hang of saying ‘kiitos’ and smiling like an idiot; when people think that you’re a fool you can get away with more. Speaking of cultural exchange, Aganzir proved to be very keen on the phrase ‘creepy-crawly’, as I discovered while we were admiring some metal insects.

Back at Nogrod’s castle of doom, we were ready to receive the next batch of inmates, this time Macalaure and Rikae, who had brought with them my nemesis, the Wereduckling. They seemed like such a nice family, which just goes to show how masterfully their disguises had been prepared. We were soon to discover that they came bearing destruction and torture, but who hadn’t? I think that it was on this evening that we all headed over to Thinlómien’s place to clutter up the recreation room. I remember drinking gallons of Karhu, being repeatedly assaulted by a small child, playing Paper Telephone and badgering Rune to come and join our depraved revels. By the time we repaired to the student flat I had ceased to exercise due caution over what I was drinking, which resulted in my consuming something that the girls had been hiding in their fridge to keep the world safe. It tasted of pink death, but I drank it anyway. This proved to be something of a tactical error.

This is probably the best point at which to mention what the Icelanders would no doubt call The Saga of Shasta the France-trapped. He had been expected the day before, but had called to announce that he was being subjected to the worst torture an Englishman can imagine: being stuck in Paris for the night. The French had done what they do best and deranged his travel plans, which apparently were the only things about him that hadn’t been deranged to begin with. By the point that I’ve reached, he was in Helsinki, and wisely spending most of his time asleep. As it turned out, he was merely husbanding his energy for concerted lunacy.

Also at this gathering was Volo, who apparently owns no shoes. He makes up for this by wearing an unfeasibly large hat and rather a fancy weskit. It’s just as well that he and Skip brought hats with them, because I’d left mine at home in the belief that they’d come to harm if they went anywhere near an airliner.

Speaking of Skip, he and Kath at last deigned to join us in Joutsaa, which is quite simply beautiful. We drove out in convoy, but I was in the most dilapidated van in Europe with Nogrod (the driver), Estelyn, Hookbill, Oddwen and Aganzir. If you’re going to travel half-way across Finland with a bunch of unreliable maniacs, I recommend them.

It was a stroke of genius to get us all out to the cabin, sawing up trees (kill the Ent, kill the Ent), cooking over open fires and taking saunas. I discovered a one-litre beer glass that was perfect for doing Darth Vader impersonations, if you can impersonate Darth Vader, which I can’t. Oddwen can also do some interesting voices, but the real stars of our evenings around the fire were Nogrod, A Little Green and Skip. It was during this time that I really started to relax, although this was a mistake as it allowed Wereduckling to sneak up on me and eat me to death on more than one occasion. It was after a day of such treatment that the final horror was unleashed and Rune joined us. The circle was complete, and the universe was doomed.

There isn’t enough space on the forum’s servers for me to give a very detailed account of Joutsaa. Suffice it to say that I went fishing with Skip and Aganzir (the boat is apparently unsafe for eighteen people, so we had to take turns), played werewolf for the first time (and was on the winning side, because we really were that good). We played the longest game of Apples to Apples in living memory on the veranda of a log cabin, and witnessed the frightening woodcraft of the Downs membership from the relative comfort of an open fire. We ate pancakes with berries we’d gathered in the woods that very afternoon and spent a lot of time in the lake. A number of us also fell over spectacularly, especially Rikae. It’s interesting when you reach my advanced years and crosswords seem like a pretty wild way to spend an afternoon to have your banged head carefully examined by a concerned teacher. People have been calling Kath ‘the only normal Brit’, but I think ‘least immature’ is probably a better way to put it. I’m not sure whether to find that galling or reassuring. Having said that, when the only other two Britons present are me and Hookbill it’s not surprising that such comparisons spring to mind.

The last night in Joutsaa was spent largely sitting in a lake, rambling on about politics with Aganzir. I ended up getting about two hours’ sleep before the journey back to Helsinki in our amazingly still functional bus. I can impersonate a pillow or a footstool with equal felicity. Then, after a long-overdue shower, I donned my best Theakstons T-shirt and headed off to look at some church boats with Nogrod and Esty. Apparently they weren’t Viking longships, but they were the closest thing to them that I saw in Finland. Eventually, Esty and Nogrod poured me into a bus, which would ferry me to the Slut Walk. This journey, incidentally, reminded me why most people have working mobile phones. I was reduced to scribbled numbers and occasional telephone boxes, but fortunately I’d remembered to bring some blind luck, which got me to the station in time to join the march. Present there were Aganzir (our fearless leader), Hookbill, Oddwen, Shasta and your humble correspondent. We walked as we’d often walked before, exploring Helsinki in what I’m going to start calling ‘protest tourism’.

Back at Lommy and Aganzir’s place, we watched the obscene Glaswegian Harry Potter video that had so captivated the junior Downers and then headed off a bar (at last) to play ‘Truth Be Told’, which is a game in which no truth is told at all. I find when trying to recall the game that my memories have been suppressed. Something about Rush Limbaugh dressed as Scarlett O’Hara floats up from the depths of memory like a dead sheep in a reservoir. Anyway, we laughed a lot. Then everyone else turned up and we went to dinner.

This was the last evening we’d spend together, so we made the most of it by eating, drinking, collecting all the restaurant’s stuffed toys on our table and dressing one of them up as Rune. We then piled back to Nogrod’s Doom Fortress for tea and cakes, or more accurately Danish mead and lots of beer. Estelyn had brought with her the silliest Lord of the Rings film any of us have seen, courtesy of the Russian society, and we played far too much of the two-line story game: five simultaneous sheets that eventually contained some of the most disturbing and ridiculous statements that we’ve ever produced. Since Estelyn and I were in REB together, that’s saying quite a lot.

Once the little ones had been packed off back to the nursery flat, there seemed little point in sleeping as I had to be up in three hours to catch my flight. Therefore Nogrod, Pitchwife and I spent some time looking through Nogrod’s quite impressive library: Snorri in Finnish, sagas in Danish, the most dilapidated copy of LR in the world; the list is practically endless. We talked, I avoided falling asleep, and finally Nogrod saw me into a taxi and I was, as they say, out of the saga. It seems that the best of the Moot was yet to come, but such is the punishment for those who can’t arrange enough holiday.

Normally I’d add some impressions of the various people, but I think I’ve imposed on the Forum’s time enough. Suffice it to say that it was obvious from the start that I was among friends: people with whom one could comfortably build a guillotine or barbecue a head of state. It would be to the great impoverishment of mankind if this company were never again to be assembled, and I hope that I’ll have the opportunity to meet each of them again. Special thanks are due to our hosts, Nogrod, Thinlómien, A Little Green and Aganzir, who gave their bus passes, their time, their money and so much energy to organising the whole thing and catering for half the Downs. A week is too short a time to spend in the company of such excellent and admirable folk. May your beards grow ever longer, and your feathers never fall.

[Pitchwife]

Reposted from the RotR 2012 thread:

Originally Posted by myself

IN THE MEANTIME...

... for all those around Europe who won't be able to make it to RotR (or who just can't wait that long), how about having a Wurstlandmoot sometime next spring (like, say, around Easter)? I'd be pleased to host, if there's interest. We live half an hour's drive from Frankfurt-Hahn and about an hour from Frankfurt International, so picking everybody up at their respective airport would be no prob with a bit of organisation. Our house easily sleeps ~8 people (10 with a little piling), and if there should be more, there's a youth hostel in a very nearby village. We live in a pretty rural aerea, but close to the cities of Mainz, Koblenz and Frankfurt and the Middle Rhine Valley, which is one of the most beautiful pieces of Germany with lots of historic attractions (indeed, a day tour by ship on the Rhine, passing the Loreley and one castle after another, is something to write home about).

Discuss.

[Kath]

I've done that boat trip Pitch, it is well worth it. :-)

[Mithalwen]

So have I. I was interrailing and staying with friends in Koblenz and the first thing the boat passed was a nude bathing site. I hope they didn't get as sunburnt as I did (only bare arms and feet).

[Aganzir]

I met Hookbill briefly on Saturday and Squatter, Mith & Kath yesterday. Both meetings were great fun.

Hook and I spent about an hour walking around London, he dissing British politics (they're not left enough) and I Finnish (we're not left enough), and being just generally offensive. We got semi-lost, and when we eventually figured out our exact location, we were a 100 meters from where we had started. We then went into a cafe and I proceeded to lecture him about having a negative attitude towards everything. I even said he reminds me of Jon Snow, but he said he took it at half face value. I had a good time with him, and when we parted, I hit him with a banana as requested earlier.

Sunday started with Squatter & I sitting in a cosy wine bar for 45 minutes before Mith arrived. I was the one having alcohol while he only drank orange juice and it felt very weird, but I entertained him with stories of Lommy listening to Elton John. Then Mith came and brought along a banana. We played with the banana, the candles and Squatter's hat, and I spilled wax on his trousers. Kath arrived about three hours later, and we (this is to say, it was my idea but no one objected) made her get us drinks as a punishment for being so late. We stayed in the bar for some more time and then went for dinner in a nearby pizza restaurant. I had a lasagna and even though it was huge, I finished it before anyone else was done with their pizzas - but that's because I'm Finnish and never speak during meals.

After dinner we saw Mith to Charing Cross, and on our way there Kath told me to hug attack Squatter. I am always happy to comply to her wishes, especially if they involve doing something that Britons reputedly find awkward, and so I pounced. Unfortunately he was a bit closer than I had thought (I had obviously been looking at Kath while she counted to three) and I managed not only to hug him but also to scratch a passer-by across the face with my fingernails that are at the moment just the right length for inflicting pain. She screamed, swore and stormed off. I was very sorry, but it was really too funny.
We then said goodbye to Mith, and on our way to Oxford Circus the discussion got really weird. Suffice to say, it was about Wurstlandmoot and fetishes. Before we parted with Squatter, I bit him as Pitchwife had asked me to do. He punished me by grabbing my precious hat and running onto the train. I was upset, but going to a nice cocktail bar near King's Cross (that served a drink called Pippin) with Kath helped.

Aganzir likes her British Downers a lot.

[Mithalwen]

The banana was a commission.. not quite as random as it sounds...honest..