Syttende Mai

Saturday was the 17th May or - as my strong, blonde, ice-eyed Norwegian friends would say – “Syttende Mai”. This is a special day for the Norwegians - it is their Constitution Day; the day when the whole nation celebrates with flags, parades, and many renditions of “Ja, vi elsker dette landet” (the National Anthem). I’ve only ever seen it once, and that was thirty years ago when I travelled over to Oslo with the Ipswich football team which had just won the FA Cup the previous weekend. We celebrated on the plane and then we celebrated in the streets. The revelry on this day in Norway is a pageant of youth – yes, for even though the entire country (of any age) engages with the jubilation, it is the youth of Norway which has its day on Syttende Mai.

The youth of the country parades with its horns and drums and form what they call the “Russtog” (Red Train) where high school graduates create a reticulated column of floats, cars and vans upon which they loll and sprawl in drunken indulgence. I neglected to say that this procession is preceded by the “Barnetog” (Children’s Train) which is where the tots of this great land display their loyalty to the homeland with flowers and of course, the ubiquitous flags. There is a gala atmosphere of the most exuberant and abandoned kind, and it's all huge fun.

The odd thing is that I learn that my daughter Imogen (who lives in Switzerland) is in Oslo this weekend, specifically for these festivities. She is witnessing the fun and madness that I witnessed, but exactly thirty years later. This reminds me of another strange and similar coincidence - that the first time I ascended the Empire State Building in New York, it was exactly thirty years since my father had visited the very same spot. Generational spans; how strange they are, eh?

Anyway, I have had a peculiar Sunday. I walked along the road to Damascus and lo, I beheld my own Epiphany. I have always held a certain tenacity to good manners but now I have woken to the fact that manners (contrary to the adage) do not maketh the man. What really maketh the man is the ability for totally unsentimental ruthlessness. I am sick of being used and abused by everyone and so from hereon in I intend to be entirely self-sufficient, and so fuck you, fellow man. From tomorrow I will not even consider the needs of others because it will be my own needs that are paramount – if I encounter others who require my help with anything, I will only give it if it benefits me too. Notwithstanding that this may seem simplistic and even materialistic (and certainly selfish), that's just too bad - we are all alone in this world and that is exactly as it should be.

I am on the brink of a New World Order. I will rely on no-one but myself. I will prevail.