So this is the blog you were supposed to read last Thursday:
Hopefully as you read this I am in Oslo, basking in the sunshine and not getting drunk because of the price of alcohol (£5 for a beer! If I drank the stuff it would be enough to make me teetotal). How I have ended up in Norway is really testament to the power of getting tipsy on your birthday, saying you'd like to do something and then people actually going through with it several months later when entirely sober and faced with the aforementioned bar prices. Obviously I love them all for running with my ramblings, something I shall say now whilst I still can as, after six days together, the chances are we shall be arguing about more than just whether Oasis count as an example of the sublime. Undoubtedly I shall come back with motion-sickness stories and, possibly more informatively, something about the seven hour train ride from Oslo to Bergen which I am sure is one of the train rides that you should take before you die. Or at least that's what the Norwegian tourist board will have you believe.
Only I got busy with packing and no one wanting to sell me motion-sickness tablets and having to fill in some forms and tick boxes and some how the choice ended up being whether I stuck that blog up or whether I actually got to Norway. And, as much as I love you all, Norway won.
I am back now, though, with a new Norway pen, sunburnt feet (it was 30 degrees for almost the entire time we were there, as a result I have a slight pink tinge as opposed to my normal translucent colouring) and a sore side because I laughed so much it hurt a little. As you may have guessed there are blogs to come but for now I have a suitcase of dirty washing, a lot of facebook photos to go through (where I, undoubtedly, will be talking with my hands) and some memories to quietly smile about.