We Don't Want to Foist Our Opinions on Anyone, But

You know how sometimes you end up drinking schnapps with three young men from the navy on Midsummer's Eve? And it turns out they know an astonishing amount of drinking songs? And then, soon after that, somebody invites you to have a look at their archive? (Not a euphemism.) And how sometimes, even after that, other good things keep happening? To the point where you start to feel paranoid, and your eyes dart back and forth crazily while your mouth forms itself into a lopsided demented grin whenever you talk to someone? Well, that is what life is like at Privy Counsel HQ at the moment.

Also, have you noticed that the lime trees are in bloom? If you haven't, don't worry - we have done it for you! Lime trees, as we all know, have a delightful scent when in bloom and have inspired Germany's most poetic street name, Unter den Linden.

Lime trees in their most rampant phase of loveliness.
Image from deboragarden.

Other flowers that are in bloom at the moment are honeysuckle, roses, and elderflower. Our friend Maureen Helen frequently blogs about flowers and other mindfulness-inducing phenomena, and we don't see why we should lag behind. Thus we are now going to talk at you about flowers, whether you want us to or not.

We exhort you to get a snootful of honeysuckle as soon as possible,
for the sake of your health and relative sanity.

If at all possible we should all be stopping to smell the roses.
We simply cannot think of anything more enjoyable (especially on a day when one's drinking-schnapps-with-three-young-men-from-the-navy quota has already been filled).

Elderflower is supremely useful. Not only is it an effective medicinal herb, but elderflower cordial goes superbly with all kinds of alcohol, and makes for a jovial evening and cordial relations.

An elderflower tree in the vicinity of Privy Counsel HQ. We didn't actually know it was there until a friend kindly pointed it out, which is somewhat embarrassing, but in our defense it is too dark to see anything for nine months of the year where we are, and also we spend most of our time at a computer ranting about toilets and sexism, not  in the wild outdoors staring at trees.

We suspect that our intelligent readers are now extremely impatient for some toilet pictures. We seldom, in our own humble opinion, disappoint, so here you are! Our Mum, who hates football, sent us a message last night announcing her defiant intention of watching the Iceland-England game, hoping to see "Iceland beat the crap out of England". Those who voted pro-Brexit, thereby risking the political and economic stability of the entire European Union, are presumably not aware of the fury they have unleashed. Let us hope, for their sake, that they don't run into Our Mum when she is in a fuming rage ranting about the idiocy of Brexit!

Iceland, as we all know by now, did beat the crap out of England, which led to a certain grim satisfaction in the Bremain camp, though ultimately a football victory does little to undo the political chaos and rampant racism of recent days. But still. The people of Iceland are our heroes today, and what better way to celebrate than by enjoying pictures from the toilets in Reykjavík's Hallgrímskirkja? Well, quite. We ventured into our archive (which, as regular and perhaps semi-regular readers are aware, we imagine as a crypt out of The Monk, no doubt for sane and normal reasons) to retrieve these specially. Verði ykkur að góðu!

Sturdy, functional and very, very clean - just what you'd expect of a church in Reykjavík.

We cannot applaud this simplicity and cleanliness enough.

Words cannot describe how much we love this sturdy coat-hook.

We do not love this kind of scented soap, but it does the job and we will not rant needlessly.

We couldn't help but feel very, very smug when spotting this Swedish Mora tap.

Since we're on the topic of politics, may we suggest, if anyone with any influence in the Labour party happens to be reading, that you put a woman (if you are unsure what this is, see a helpful definition here) forward for leadership? We are not huge fans of party politics, but clearly the Tory party consists entirely of lunatics, and a change of government now seems indicated, both in terms of political spectrum, and in terms of sex. We don't want to foist our opinions on anyone, but CAITLIN MORAN FOR PRIME MINISTER!!!

Before we move on to today's festive video, here is a delightful postcard that we received from Tudor Friend, who has been to Haworth to visit the Brontë museum. As regular readers are aware, the Brontës are our heroes, and we think that the below quote by Charlotte Brontë adequately summarises the raison d'être of this blog.

Charlotte Brontë was a woman who wrote books. Yes, really.

Reinforcing our point that Caitlin Moran should be the next prime minister of Britain (or whatever the hell we should now call this country), here is her "advice to creatives".

Festive Video - Caitlin Moran, Inappropriate Advice for Creatives

Related Reading
Our friend Maureen Helen's philosophical blog

All posts featuring Our Mum

All posts featuring rants

All posts featuring Iceland

Not forgetting, of course, The Best Toilet in Iceland

All posts featuring churches

We once created a helpful abridged version of Jane Eyre

All posts featuring Tudor Friend

All posts featuring Caitlin Moran, whom we love to distraction

We actually get political surprisingly often for a toilet blog. For instance we once wrote a post called Love, Politics and the Revolution.

Go, Just for the Record

How are you, dear readers?
This is obviously a rhetorical question, since a blog is mostly a one-way communication channel. Still, how the hell are you? If you are unhappy, for instance if you live in a country where mixer taps are rarer than a unicorn in a paddling pool in Alaska after a nuclear meltdown, write to us and tell us about it! Or if you are happy, perhaps because you are in a country where hot water is pumped from underground and transported across the country in a massive communal grid, then don't hesitate to get in touch. As did for instance Audiologist Friend, that scion of hearing aids and toilet photography!

Audiologist Friend writes:

Här kommer veckans fångst. Det nya helt veganska fiket, praktiskt nog har det placerats granne med vår lägga* i rvk. Vad det heter? Vinyl såklart. 

(Here is this week's catch. The new totally vegan café which has been conveniently placed next to our pad in Reykjavík. The name? Vinyl, of course.)

*We have never actually seen the word lägga used in this way before. We reckon it is either a colloquial term for lägenhet, "flat/apartment", or an autocorrect error. If you are familiar with this term, either because you are linguistically aware or because you are one of the cool kids, do not hesitate to get in touch and reduce our ignorance.

A charming vista of a hygienic and festive toilet

A friendly ladder serves as a reminder of the fallibility of human nature

Hubba! A close-up of the actual vinyl player with an actual speaker! One is highly likely, on regarding this picture, to erupt in an exhortation along the lines of, "Slave, cease your cymbal-playing this instant and book us a flight to Iceland!"

We have had occasion to reflect, recently, on the subject of family. Ours isn't prone to owning wicker, but otherwise we subscribe to many of the views expressed in this Festive Video.

Festive video - Kasey Musgraves, Family is family

Related Reading

The post in which we waxed lyrical on the topic of the hot-water system in Iceland:
Power Trip: Hellisheiðarvirkjun

Posts featuring another lovely vegan café, Goji in York:
Goji in Goodramgate - Come for the Tea, Stay for the Toilets

Goji: Returning to the Scene of the Cake

All previous posts featuring Audiologist Friend:
A Ray of Light from Spain

Þórsmörk, Iceland: Some Light Relief

A Fatally Fascinating Sequel

Jazzing Things up in Oslo

Cracking Some Suds in Kreuzberg

How to Love Handles

Apparently There Was a "Best Norwegian Café" and "Best Latin Translation" Competition, and Here Are the Winners!

A Life-Affirming Experience

Þórsmörk, Iceland: Some Light Relief

Vroom, vroom! Yes, we have been away! No, you don't want to know what we have been doing! What matters is that we are back - with what we like to think of as a vengeance! Recent traumas have, quite possibly, contributed to some pretty rampant spiritual growth, which should logically result in even more inspirational and intellectually uplifting blog posts henceforth.

Also we made a vow that, if we survived our ordeal, we would go on a champagne bender, the likes of which you have never seen. As regular readers may remember, we have produced some of our best work while hungover (for instance this, and this. This one wasn't bad. Oh, and this was a very satisfying rant), so this resolution may very well work out in your favour.

Audiologist Friend has been adventurous as usual, this time in Iceland! This eminent earwax specialist says (as ever, do take this opportunity of refreshing you colloquial Swedish, but if you happen to be hungover, or otherwise linguistically incapacitated, a translation will follow):

Tro inte att jag glömt din blogg! Här kommer en riktigt fräsch o härlig WC (!!!) nedanför Eyjafjallajökull och Mýrdalsjökull - riktigt lyxigt efter en 26 km gångtur. Inga lampor men tak där väggarna inte når hela vägen upp = ljus lyser igenom, och taket gjord av genomskinlig plast (med vit färg så ljuset kommer in). Stället heter Basar i Þórsmörk.

(Don't think I've forgotten your blog! Here is a really clean and lovely WC (!!!) below Eyafjallajökull and Mýrdalsjökull - properly luxurious after a 26 km hike. No lights, but walls that don't reach all the way to the ceiling = light shining through, and the roof was made of clear plastic (painted white, so the light could get through). The place is called Basar, in Þórsmörk.)

Icelanders know how to do a good bathroom! Even in the wild! Woof!

We note with pleasure that this toilet is both clean and disability-friendly,
and features a covered toilet-roll holder.

In other news, Tudor Friend sent us this article about Japanese toilets, which was interesting, but also a) creepily close to being an advert, and b) totally lacking in anything resembling an environmental angle. Tudor Friend commented:

My theory on the great "why we don't like bidets" discussion is that we feel like we won't get sufficiently dry, and *retaining* moisture on one's posterior or nether bits is something we associate with not having cleaned sufficiently.

On us predictably going on a rant about how any discussion of Japanese super toilets needs not only an environmental element, but also a clear affirmation of the total and utter non-necessity of having a warmed-up toilet seat, Tudor Friend concurred heartily:

I agree! I've sat on one once and it was fucking CREEPY. My ass does NOT need to be toasted to have a functional bathroom experience.

We're off to bang our heads against the wall for a bit. Hopefully next time we write, we will be rampantly hungover!

Because we recently encountered a gym instructor in his fifties with a passion for both hair metal and Lady Gaga, which totally reminded us of Australian Friend, we thought we'd make today's festive video the most bathroom-related of Gaga's videos. (It coincidentally appears to feature somebody being forced to drink water.)

Festive video - Lady Gaga, Bad Romance

Related Reading

A trip down memory lane - memorable posts we've written when hungover:
A Life-Affirming Experience
"Drunken Routs, in Which More Things Were Broken Than Heads and Furniture, Sister!"

Uncle Sean's Very Rude Toilet Graffiti

The Screaming Bloody Horror That Is Unisex Toilets

Whether You Believe in Jebus Or Not: Unbelievably Rampant Linguistic Musings!

View all hungover posts here:

Posts Written When Hungover

And here:

Posts Written When Hungover (Work in Progress)

(No, we don't know why we have two labels for posts written when hungover. Most likely it is a mistake which we have consistently been too lazy to rectify.)

All posts featuring Audiologist Friend

How to Love Handles

A zinging good evening to you all! As all our regular readers are doubtless aware, tonight is Walpurgis Eve, which means it's time to banish evil spirits using a combination of fire and ancient pagan rituals. This brings us seamlessly to the topic of today's Friend contribution.

Welsh Gangster Friend says:

I'm in Newport's newest pub, Urban Pop Up. 

I love the toilet door handle mechanism.

This is certainly highly satisfactory.

When asked whether the door handle "[clicked] in a satisfactory way, or was [...] just a joy to use, plain and simple?", Welsh Gangster Friend replied, "I just appreciated only having one thing. None of this handle AND lock nonsense. A handlelock. Way forward". 

We agreed that this was "A beautiful concept indeed! And it looks as though one could operate it with one's elbow, thus avoiding having to touch it - two rampant OCD thumbs up!", to which Welsh Gangster Friend added, "I believe you could, yes. Possibly even your foot."

We love engaging in these stimulating exchanges with our friends!

Actually we've been involved in a lot of hyper-intellectual debates with friends recently (one fruitful topic is, for example, "Can one rampantly internet-stalk Richard Armitage and still call oneself a feminist?"), as well as engaging in many other knackering intellectual, semi-intellectual and even athletic activities, and are only prevented from falling into a lengthy drool-inducing coma by our dedication to the noble cause of toilet-bloggery and rum-drinking.

We feel an urgent need to put our metaphorical feet up, swill some tea (yes, alright, just a dash of rum, if you insist), and delight in Audiologist Friend's recent artistic contribution to the blog, called "A bathroom in Reykjavík".

Note the lines! The light! The playful destruction of conventional planes of authentication
and the subversive autonomies of the concept of truth!
(For more intellectually valid art criticism, see our classic blog post Brownian Motion.
(We just love modern art, don't you?))
Note, above all, the festive reflection of Audiologist Friend in the flush buttons!
(If you enjoy almost seeing people, see our label Almost Seeing People.)

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is as coherent and intellectual as this blog is going to get today. Tally-ho!

We know we had a festive Kacey Musgraves video very recently (and also slightly less recently), but a lot of the issues mentioned in this song seem to be relevant at Privy Counsel HQ just now, not least the matter of people pissing in our garden.

Festive Video - Kacey Musgraves, Biscuits

Related Reading
All posts about Welsh Gangster Friend
All posts about Audiologist Friend
If you enjoy contemplating art and the meaning of life, we highly recommend our classic post Brownian Motion, or, Brownout, or, A Brown Study - Semi-Intellectual Friend's Shower, which features Semi-Intellectual Friend and a post-post-modern, deconstructuralist shower
We are great fans of modern art at the Privy Counsel
Turns out that Almost Seeing People is a fruitful area of research


Not Strictly Related, But Totally Thrilling, Reading
Our friend Jane's latest intellectual blog post. Seriously, if you are into medieval stonemasonry, YOU CANNOT AFFORD TO MISS THIS POST.

A Life-Affirming Experience

Hangovers, in our experience, are great for creativity. Nothing inspires rampant joie de vivre as much as the feeling of the vicious clog-dancing trolls departing from the inside of one's head, and the ability to actually hold down food. It is also, in our opinion, a meditative experience to lie in bed a whole day, thinking about nothing, and doing, crucially, absolutely fuck-all, lest one set off an avalanche of bodily fluids. It is a great exercise in remaining philosophical in the face of adversity: we should all do it more often. After all, as Lord Byron probably said, "There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion".

We developed, during our most recent hangover, a desire to share with the world the lovely toilet photo that a friend sent us from Iceland. This picture is called Diagonal toilet, and comes in two versions: "hipster bleak" and "artistic black and white". As usual we're publishing both, being fundamentally unable to make decisions.

As Bridget Jones so memorably said, "I don't want to be tortured. I want to lie on the bathroom floor with my head near the toilet bowl, like normal people". This looks like an excellent floor for being normal on.

Rarrr! Do you feel the artistic juices flowing?

Let's have a jolly festive video. Then we're off to bathe the burst blood vessels round our eyes with lavender water.


<
Festive video: Monty Python, Philosophers' Song

Related reading
Another memorable hangover: Tømmermænd at Café Jorden, or, Sleepless in Aarhus, or, Fear and Loathing in Jutland

One of Monkey's worst hangovers ever: The-Day-After-the-Night-Before Toilet Musings

Another instance of us being unable to choose between two photos: Arachne-Philia and German-Induced Euphoria
The German Existentialist Toilet is possibly our favourite toilet ever, and is also hangover-related: The German Existentialist Toilet Is, Perhaps, Here

Quickly, Before We Sober Up: Icelandic Nostalgia

We find ourselves strangely inebriated this morning. No reason, you understand, it's just one of those mornings. Elvis on the stereo, Captain Morgan in the coffee mug. You know how it is sometimes.

We're reminiscing fondly, in our plastered condition, about last year's trip to Iceland, that land of not quite milk and honey but certainly excellent plumbing and endless hot water. Our regular readers will remember that an anonymous benefactor sponsored a research trip to Iceland last year, which was hugely exciting and educational. (Read more here, here, here, here, here and here (bloody hell, that's a lot of Icelandic toilet pictures, actually).)

Let's get cracking before we sober up! Ho, ho, ho, here are the pictures from Þjóðdminjasafn Íslands (that is, the Icelandic National Museum) in Reykjavík!

Does one BARK with joy at the beauty and stylishness of these taps?
One does! WOOF!

If there's one thing Icelandic people know how to do well, it's rotten shark, pony schnapps, and toilets!
Three. That's three things. Let's continue.

Who're you gonna call?

Can't remember if we liked this or not. What do you think?

Well, wasn't that just spiffing! Hurrah for Iceland! And many thanks, again, to our generous benefactor! We give these toilets a hundred thousand points! Woof!

Related Reading
Power Trip: Hellisheiðarvirkjun

A Christmas Story: Egils saga

Post-Christmas Stupor

Fabulous Glamour at Fiskarmarkaðurinn

Snyrt, Snyrt: Landnámssýningin
Blue Lagoon: Blissful Bathing, Bloody Awful Toilet Doors

Blue Lagoon: Blissful Bathing, Bloody Awful Toilet Doors

Privy Counsel HQ is cold as hell today, and we've been sitting here reminiscing about times when we have been warm in the past. For instance, the time when we were enveloped in the hot springs of Iceland! The Privy Counsel heartily encourages visits to the Blue Lagoon spa (or Bláa lónið, as the natives prefer calling it), and equally heartily disapproves of the showers at said establishment. If there is one thing the Privy Counsel most decidedly does not appreciate (apart from non-integrated taps, poor ventilation and, actually, a very large number of other things) it is fancy showers with water coming from the bloody ceiling, denying one the option of whether to wet one's hair and/or glasses or not. Also, the Privy Counsel's anonymous benefactor was irritated at being kept waiting with a herd of tourists until the clock struck 10:00 and the staff were allowed to let people in, saying it was "like queueing in the bloody Soviet Union".

However, the bathing experience is exactly what all the websites say it is - emphatically lovely!

So far, so unobjectionable

Mineral-enriched soap - why not?

 

We love the tap and the paper towels (although they're not, alas, unbleached)

AN ESTABLISHMENT CHARGING SUCH EXORBITANT ENTRY FEES SHOULD BE ABLE
TO AFFORD DOORS THAT GO ALL THE WAY TO THE WALL! EMPHATICALLY NOT OK!!!

Annoying: the water comes from the ceiling. Image from Travbuddy.

Our least favourite things were the doors and the showers. But everything else was lovely.
View a 360-degree panorama of the Blue Lagoon here. Get useful information from our dear friend Wikipedia here.

Blue Lagoon

240 Grindavík

Iceland

420-8800
http://www.bluelagoon.is/
http://www.bluelagoon.com

Related Reading
Other Posts About Iceland
Other Nice Warm Baths

Snyrt, Snyrt: Landnámssýningin

We have been privileged enough to have had a fair amount of time to spare for toilet blogging lately; however, that's about to change. Let's squeeze in a lovely toilet while we have the leisure to devote ourselves to beauty as opposed to utility. Here are the toilets at one of our favourite museums ever, the Landnámssýningin (Settlement Exhibition) in Reykjavík! The Settlement Exhibition displays a building and artefacts from the very earliest Scandinavian settlement on Iceland (Semi-Intellectual Friend will tell us all about the Irish monks, who possibly got to Iceland before the marauding Vikings, another time).

The funky lime-green colour reminds us of the Sotano bar in York - hurrah!

Mixer tap, stylishness and paper towels - one shivers with delight!

One almost explodes with joy at the sight of these coat-hooks.
(N.b. The lime-green colour was much cooler in the flesh.)

 Sod it, we might as well indulge in some linguistic musings as well, while we're at it. We've been pondering the Icelandic word for toilet, snyrting, for some time. To us it sounds insanely comical, but of course language policy in Iceland is a dead serious business. Icelanders tend to be stark raving purists when it comes to their language, for which we usually applaud them; if they don't have a word for something they will invent one rather than import a bastardising foreign one. One source tells us that none other than Sigurður Nordal invented the word snyrting. According to the Cleasby-Vigfússon Old Icelandic dictionary, snyrta means "to trim". We asked our eminent Intellectual Friend for a learned opinion, and got the following answer:

Snyrt, snyrt indeed!!!
Well, these are very amusing/intriguing bits of etymologies. Nordal's snyrting is quite a powerful idea. In addition to snyrta, there was the poetic word snyrtir, a sword-name, meaning either "the trimmer" or, if passive, "the trimmed" by reference to the sword-making/sharpening process (same source as above: "snyrtir, m. a polisher, Lex. Poët.: the name of a sword, Saxo", ed.'s note). Apparently employing the one-thing-leads-to-another method, Jóhannesson went and linked snyrta to 'snort' via dialectal Swedish snärt, 'fart', which is probably shaky but quite cool.

 While we're usually wildly in favour of consulting Jóhannesson, we take the liberty of positing the idea that he was talking out of his distinguished hat on this occasion. Other than that, we're not sure we feel a whole lot wiser, but at least we have had the joy of contemplating some beautiful toilets and some linguistic musings.

Related Reading
Quickly, Before We Sober Up: Icelandic Nostalgia
Power Trip: Hellisheiðarvirkjun

A Christmas Story: Egils Saga

Fabulous Glamour at Fiskarmarkaðurinn

There seems to persist an enduring idea that new year's eve should be all about glamour and festivity. To be perfectly honest the Privy Counsel HQ is usually pretty far removed from every kind of glamour (this is, after all, a toilet blog. Toilet blogs, no matter how fabulous, are not about glamour), but we do happen to have some photos up our sleeve of the most glamorous toilet we have ever seen (apart, possibly, from that one fantastic wedding): at the Fiskarmarkaðurinn ("fish market") in Reykjavík!

Every time we view this picture, we die a little inside

A natural stone sink, fabulous mixer tap and Verbena soap from L'Occitane:
we don't believe it gets much lusher than this!

Close-up of the lovely, lovely soap

We're off to sail the seven seas with Captain Morgan, while the fireworks outside provide a fitting cannon-like sound effect. Our new year's resolution is to do more drunken blog updates. It's been fun. Happy new year!

Fiskarmarkaðurinn
Aðalstræti 12, Reykjavík
http://fiskmarkadurinn.is/

Post-Christmas Stupor

How are you feeling? Christmas is a funny thing. In our experience, it's either over too soon or not soon enough. Monkey, however, has been enjoying Christmas wholeheartedly this year, and was most excited by his gifts of Icelandic yoghurt and schnapps!

Monkey loves yoghurt, but he loves schnapps even more.
Luckily, he now has both!

We hope you've enjoyed Christmas as much as Monkey!

A Christmas Story: Egils Saga

Last year we received a delightful Christmas gift in the shape of Icelandic Christmas Toilets. This year, we're giving our readers a gift in the shape of the toilets at the Egill Skallagrímsson brewery in Reykjavík! We really cannot recommend a visit to this brewery enough! Our guide told us the story of the brewery, and of beer-drinking in Iceland, in a fashion that was both enlightening and entertaining, even going to the length of giving a most amusing demonstration of how beer was drunk in Iceland in the eighties (has to be seen to be believed)! Consideration was given to the fact that visitors needed to use the facilities after a certain amount of beer, which everyone appreciated very much. Very good facilities they were, too!

So clean! Such a lovely mixer-tap-paper-towel-lovely-soap combination!

This seems to be the disabled toilet. It was very good. Ooh, look, a dual flush!

It really was an excellent brewery tour

Oh dear, we hope you're of age: This beer is also excellent!
It's got liquorice in it! Intellectual Friend says:
"Legendary stuff! Did you say Yule ale 'with liquorice',
as in, with liquorice IN the ale?
I MUST GET THIS STUFF!!"

Let us not forget that Christmas is a time of story-telling as well as of drinking. We have selected chapter 66/71/72/73/74, depending on which edition one chooses, of Egils saga for our Christmas story. Enjoy!

English translation follows after the Old Norse original. Old Norse version from Heimskringla, English version from Icelandic Saga Database. Please note that the English translation is the 1893 version by W. C. Green, which glosses over certain unappetizing habits of Egil's. For instance, the bit where Egil

"stood up, went across the floor to where Armod sat, took him with his hands by the shoulders, and forced him back against the inner posts, and spat in his face",

should actually be something more like:

"He stood up and walked across the floor to where Armod was sitting, seized him by the shoulders and thrust him up against a wall-post. Then Egil spewed a torrent of vomit that gushed all over Armod's face, filling his eyes and nostrils and mouth and pouring down his beard and chest. Armod was close to choking, and when he managed to let out his breath, a jet of vomit gushed out with it. All Armod's men who were there said that Egil had done a base and despicable deed by not going outside when he needed to vomit, but had made a spectacle of himself in the drinking-room instead.
Egil said, 'Don't blame me for following the master of the house's example. He's spewing his guts up just as much as I am'."

(Bernard Scudder's translation)

71. Egill fann Ármóð skegg. Egill bjóst til ferðar ok þrír menn aðrir hans förunautar. Höfðu þeir hesta ok sleða svá sem konungsmenn. Þá váru snjóvar miklir ok breyttir vegar allir. Ráða þeir til ferðar, er þeir váru búnir, ok óku upp á land, ok er þeir sóttu austr til Eiða, þá var þat á einni nótt, at fell snjór mikill, svá at ógerla sá vegana. Fórst þeim þá seint um daginn eftir, því at kafhlaup váru, þegar af fór veginum.
   Ok er á leið daginn, dvölðust þeir ok áðu hestum sínum. Þar var nær skógarháls einn.
   Þá mæltu þeir við Egil: "Nú skiljast hér vegar, en hér fram undan hálsinum býr bóndi sá, er heitir Arnaldr, vinr várr. Munum vér förunautar fara þangat til gistingar, en þér skuluð fara hér upp á hálsinn, ok þá er þér komið þar, mun brátt verða fyrir yðr bær mikill, ok er yðr þar vís gisting. Þar býr stórauðigr maðr, er heitir Ármóðr skegg. En á morgin árdegis skulum vér hittast ok fara annat kveld til Eiðaskógs. Þar býr góðr bóndi, er Þorfinnr heitir."
   Síðan skiljast þeir. Fara þeir Egill upp á hálsinn, en frá konungsmönnum er þat at segja, at þegar er sýn fal í milli þeira Egils, þá tóku þeir skíð sín, er þeir höfðu haft, ok stigu þar á, létu síðan ganga aftr á leið, sem þeir máttu. Fóru þeir nótt ok dag ok sneru til Upplanda ok þaðan norðr um Dofrafjall ok léttu eigi fyrr en þeir kómu á fund Hákonar konungs ok sögðu um sína ferð sem farit hafði.
   Egill ok förunautar hans fóru um kveldit yfir hálsinn. Var þat þar skjótast af at segja, at þeir fóru þegar af veginum. Var snjórinn mikill. Lágu hestarnir á kafi annat skeið, svá at draga varð upp. Þar váru kleifar ok kjarrskógar nökkurir, en um kjörrin ok kleifarnar var alltorsótt. Var þeim þá seinkan mikil at hestunum, en mannfærðin var in þyngsta. Mæddust þeir þá mjök, en þó kómust þeir af hálsinum ok sá þá fyrir sér bæ mikinn ok sóttu þangat til.
   Ok er þeir kómu í túnit, þá sá þeir, at þar stóðu menn úti, Ármóðr ok sveinar hans. Köstuðust þeir orðum á ok spurðust tíðenda. Ok er Ármóðr vissi, at þeir váru sendimenn konungs, þá bauð hann þeim þar gisting. Þeir þekkðust þat. Tóku húskarlar Ármóðs við hestum þeira ok reiða, en bóndi bað Egil ganga inn í stofu, ok þeir gerðu svá. Ármóðr setti Egil í öndvegi á inn óæðra bekk ok þar förunautar hans útar frá. Þeir ræddu margt um, hversu erfilliga þeir höfðu farit um kveldit, en heimamönnum þótti mikit undr, er þeir höfðu fram komizt, ok sögðu, at þar væri engum manni fært, þó at snjólaust væri.
   Þá mælti Ármóðr: "Þykkir yðr eigi sá beini beztr, at yðr sé borð sett ok gefinn náttverðr, en síðan farið þér at sofa? Munuð þér þá hvílást bezt."
   "Þat líkar oss allvel," segir Egill.
   Ármóðr lét þá setja þeim borð, en síðan váru settir fram stórir askar, fullir af skyri. Þá lét Ármóðr, at honum þætti þat illa, er hann hafði eigi mungát at gefa þeim. Þeir Egill váru mjök þyrstir af mæði. Tóku þeir upp askana ok drukku ákaft skyrit ok þó Egill miklu mest. Engi kom önnur vistin fram.
   Þar var margt hjóna. Húsfreyja sat á þverpalli ok þar konur hjá henni. Dóttir bónda var á gólfinu, tíu vetra eða ellifu. Húsfreyja kallaði hana til sín ok mælti í eyra henni. Síðan fór mærin útar fyrir borðit, þar er Egill sat. Hon kvað:

Því sendi mín móðir
mik við þik til fundar
ok orð bera Agli,
at ér varir skyldið.
Hildr mælti þat horna:
Haga svá maga þínum,
eigu órir gestir
æðra nest á frestum.

Ármóðr laust meyna ok bað hana þegja. "Mælir þú þat jafnan, er verst gegnir."
   Mærin gekk á brott, en Egill skaut niðr skyraskinum, ok var þá nær tómr. Váru þá ok brott teknir askarnir frá þeim. Gengu þá ok heimamenn í sæti sín ok váru borð upp tekin um alla stofu ok sett á vist. Því næst kómu inn sendingar ok váru þá settar fyrir Egil sem fyrir aðra menn.
   Því næst var öl inn borit, ok var þat it sterkasta mungát. Var þá brátt drukkinn einmenningr. Skyldi einn maðr drekka af dýrshorni. Var þar mestr gaumr at gefinn, er Egill var ok sveitungar hans, skyldu drekka sem ákafast. Egill drakk ósleitiliga fyrst langa hríð. En er förunautar hans gerðust ófærir, þá drakk hann fyrir þá þat, er þeir máttu eigi. Gekk svá til þess, er borð fóru brott. Gerðust þá ok allir mjök drukknir, þeir er inni váru, en hvert full, er Ármóðr drakk, þá mælti hann: "Drekk ek til þín, Egill." En húskarlar drukku til förunauta Egils ok höfðu inn sama formála. Maðr var til þess fenginn at bera þeim Agli hvert full, ok eggjaði sá mjök, at þeir skyldi skjótt drekka. Egill mælti við förunauta sína, at þeir skyldi þá ekki drekka, en hann drakk fyrir þá þat, er þeir máttu eigi annan veg undan komast.
   Egill fann þá, at honum myndi eigi svá búit eira. Stóð hann þá upp ok gekk um gólf þvert, þangat er Ármóðr sat. Hann tók höndum í axlir honum ok kneikði hann upp at stöfum. Síðan þeysti Egill upp ór sér spýju mikla, ok gaus í andlit Ármóði, í augun ok nasarnar ok í munninn, rann svá ofan um bringuna, en Ármóði varð við andhlaup, ok er hann fekk öndinni frá sér hrundit, þá gaus upp spýja. En allir mæltu þat, þeir er hjá váru, húskarlar Ármóðs, at Egill skyldi fara allra manna armastr ok hann væri inn versti maðr af þessu verki, er hann skyldi eigi ganga út, er hann vildi spýja, en verða eigi at undrum inni í drykkjustofunni.
   Egill segir: "Ekki er at hallmæla mér um þetta, þótt ek gera sem bóndi gerir, spýr hann af öllu afli eigi síðr en ek."
   Síðan gekk Egill til rúms síns ok settist niðr, bað þá gefa sér at drekka. Þá kvað Egill við raust:

Títt erum verð at Vátta,
vætti berk at hættak
þung til þessar göngu,
þinn kinnalá minni.
Margr velr gestr, þars gistir,
gjöld, finnumsk vér sjaldan,
Ármóði liggr, æðri,
ölðra dregg í skeggi.

Ármóðr hljóp upp ok út, en Egill bað gefa sér drekka. Þá mælti húsfreyja við þann mann, er þeim hafði skenkt um kveldit, at hann skyldi gefa drykk, svá at þá skyrti eigi, meðan þeir vildi drekka. Síðan tók hann dýrshorn mikit ok fylldi ok bar til Egils. Egill kneyfði af horninu í einum drykk. Þá kvað hann:

Drekkum ór, þótt Ekkils
eykríðr beri tíðum
horna sund at hendi,
hvert full, bragar Ulli.
Leifik vætr, þótt Laufa
leikstærir mér færi,
hrosta tjarnar horni,
horn til dags at morni.

Egill drakk um hríð ok kneyfði hvert horn, er at honum kom, en lítil var þá gleði í stofunni, þótt nökkurir menn drykki. Síðan stendr Egill upp ok förunautar hans ok taka vápn sín af veggjum, er þeir höfðu upp fest, ganga síðan til kornhlöðu þeirar, er hestar þeira váru inni. Lögðust þeír þar niðr í hálm ok sváfu um nóttina.

Egil wasn't pretty, but he sure knew how to party. Image from Wikipedia.

Chapter 74 - Journey to Vermaland.

Egil with three comrades made him ready for the journey. They had horses and sledges, and so had the king's men. There was then deep snow, and all the roads were effaced. They betook them to their journey when they were ready, and sledged up the land; and when they came eastwards near Eida, it happened one night that so much fresh snow fell that they could not see the way. On the morrow they traveled slowly, because there were snowdrifts directly one left the track. And as the day wore on they stopped to bait their horses; this was near a wooded ridge. Then spoke the king's men with Egil: 'Here now the roads divide; forward below the ridge dwells a landowner named Arnold, our friend; we with our party will go and lodge there. But you shall go yonder up the ridge, and when you come over it you will soon have before you a large house where you are sure of lodging. A wealthy man dwells there, Armod Beard by name. But to-morrow early we will again join company and go on the next evening to Eida-wood. There dwells a worthy landowner named Thorfinn.'

Upon this they separated, Egil and his men going up the ridge. But of the king's men this is to be told, that no sooner were they and Egil out of sight of each other, than they took their snow-shoes (which they had brought with them) and put them on; then they retraced their way as fast as they could. Night and day they travelled, and turned toward Upland, thence north by the Dovre-fell, nor stayed they till they came before king Hacon, and told him of their journey, how it had sped.

Egil and his comrades crossed the ridge that evening. To be brief, so soon as they left the main road and got upon the ridge, they found deep snow, steep rocks, tangled copsewood. Now and again in the snow the horses so plunged and lay that they had to be pulled up out of it, and over rocks and crags was a hard struggle. Much ado had they with the horses; but the walking for the men was of the heaviest, and sorely wearied were they when they came off the ridge and saw before them a large house, for which they made.

And when they came to the enclosure, they saw men standing outside, Armod and some of his household. They exchanged words and asked each other's tidings, and when Armod knew that they were messengers of the king, he offered them lodging. This they accepted. Armod's house-carles took their horses and harness; but the master bade Egil go into the hall, and they did so.

Armod made Egil sit in the high seat on the lower bench, and his comrades outside him. They spoke much of what a toilsome way they had come that evening, but the house-carles thought it a great marvel that they had won through it at all; it was, they said, no road for man even were it free of snow.

Then said Armod: 'Think ye not this were the best hospitality, that a table should be set for you and supper given you now, and then you should sleep? This will best rest you.'

'We should like this right well,' said Egil.

So Armod had a table set for them, whereon were placed large bowls full of curds. Then said Armod that he was sorry he had no beer to give them. Egil and his men were very thirsty from weariness; they took up the bowls and drank the curds eagerly, Egil drinking far the most. No other food was brought.

The household was numerous. The mistress sat on the cross-bench, and beside her the other women. The master's daughter, ten or eleven years old, was running about the hall-floor. The mistress called her to her side, and spoke in her ear. Then the girl went out to where Egil sat, and recited a verse:


'To thee with this message
My mother doth send me,
To bear word that Egil
Be wary and wait.
"So temper thy stomach,"
Thus sayeth our lady,
"With fare far more worthy
Soon feed we our guests."'

Armod struck the girl, and bade her hold her tongue: 'You are always,' said he, 'saying what least suits.'

The girl went away; but Egil threw down the curd-bowl, which was now nearly empty. The bowls were then removed from them.

And now the household took their seats, and tables were set all round the hall, and food served; dishes of meat were brought in and set before Egil and the rest. After this ale was borne in, beer of the strongest. Soon they began to drink bumpers, each man was to drink off the horn; and especial care was taken that Egil and his companions should drink hard. Egil drank without shirking a drop for a long while, but when his companions were become helpless, then he drank for them what they could not. So matters went on till the tables were removed, and by then all in the room were well drunk.

But before each cup that he drank Armod said: 'I drink to you, Egil,' and the house-carles drank to Egil's companions with the same preface. A man was appointed to bear every cup to Egil's party, and he urged them to drink it off quick. Egil told his companions to drink no more, but himself drank for them what they could not avoid.

Egil soon found that it would not do for him to go on so. Wherefore he stood up, went across the floor to where Armod sat, took him with his hands by the shoulders, and forced him back against the inner posts, and spat in his face. There was an outcry and uproar, but Egil went back to his place, sate him down, and bade them serve him drink.

Armod leapt up and ran out; Egil continued to drink for a while, as did some others in the hall; but there was little merriment. Soon Egil and his men stood up, and took their weapons from the wall where they had hung them up; they then went to the granary in which their horse were, and laid themselves down in the straw, and slept through the night.

Egils malt og appelsin - an Icelandic Christmas classic. Image from Shopicelandic.

Related Reading
A Splendid Christmas present: The Best Toilet in Iceland!
Þorsteins Þáttr Skelks: Medieval Toilet Anecdote  
World Toilet Day 2011: Taking Our Baths and Our Women
Danger, Danger: Medieval Toilets

Merry Christmas, Dear Readers! Or, rather, Gleðileg jól!

Power Trip: Hellisheiðarvirkjun

We have expressed, once or twice before, a wish for funding for a research trip. Well, sit down and hold on tight to your whisky bottle, because it finally happened!! An anonymous philanthropist recently financed a Privy Counsel field trip to Iceland!
In case you didn't know already, Iceland is an amazing country, flowing with, if not quite milk and honey, then certainly unlimited amounts of hot water from mixer taps!
A guided tour of the Hellisheiði power plant exhibition revealed unimaginable sources of wonder and delight! The unique geological conditions in Iceland means that hot water is both free and guilt-free, since it doesn't cause any carbon dioxide emissions. Hot water from the ground is transported throughout the country via a national grid, heating the houses and keeping the showers lovely and hot (conducive to good hygiene)! Excess heat keeps key areas free of snow and ice for hazard-free winter stair-climbing!

See the magic for yourself in this sexy video:

We naturally took pictures of the visitor toilets at the power plant, for the delight and edification of our readers.

We personally prefer Tork to Lotus, but don't really care as long as there's a mixer tap.

Admirably clean - shame about the toilet rolls.

One positively salivates at the sight of such an excellent coat hook

A laudable exhortation for guests to wash their hands!
Intellectual Friend presumably salivates at the sight of this imperative!
POSTSCRIPT
Intellectual Friend says: "I did indeed salivate at the sight of the imperative mundu, which is even more thrilling when one remembers that mund also meant 'hand' in poetic Old Norse, and so we potentially have here a diachronic philological pun (admittedly rather unlikely, though, on second thoughts, as it's after all just a blasted power plant)!"

Hellisheiði power plant. Image from Mannvit

Hellisheiði power plant. Image from Mannvit

Related Reading (with grateful thanks, as ever, to Intellectual Friend)
A Splendid Christmas Present: The Best Toilet in Iceland! 
Reykjavík Revisited: An Exercise in Calligraphy
Danger, Danger: Medieval Toilets
Þorsteins Þáttr Skelks: Medieval Toilet Anecdote 
World Toilet Day 2011: Taking Our Baths and Our Women  
The Second Best Toilet in Iceland
Icelandic Toilets: An Intellectual Update