Monday, April 16, 2007


This is Kettegårds Allé no. 13 in the Copenhagen suburb of Hvidovre. I lived here with my parents from age 0 to six, when we moved to a small town out in the country.

I remember a few things from this time, pissing my pants on the staircase on my way up to the apartment (and our toilet) always being shy about going down to play football with the other kids, but they were nice about it and always asked me if I wanted to join in.

My best friend Per who was one year older than me, had a deaf and dumb brother and had to start school which meant we couldn't play in the daytime any more, and I really missed him.

Some horrid old woman at the kindergarden who threatened to beat us if we didn't take our naps and eat our cheese sandwiches. I recall being so happy when my mother came to take me out of kindergarden, and I've basically been suspicious of women ever since and didn't touch cheese until my early thirties.

The retarded girl we loved to play catch with (she loved it too) she being a lot older and bigger than us made her really scary, tripling the thrill of having her chasing you.

Throwing chunks of dried dirt after the kids from the next block, and I remember feeling very guilty when I hit a girl on the head and she started to cry.

Some kid who was a few years younger than me and wanted to play all the time, but I didn't want to because I thought he was an irritating little snot (felt guilty about that too, poor little fellow who just wanted a friend)

A couple of twins who lived there got a huge electric racing circuit for x-mas one time and NEVER came out to play, because they "had to play with the racing circuit". Strange kids, they never invited anyone over to play with the circuit, or even to watch!

Well, the place hasn't changed much over the years, and I've sometimes wondered about the fact that we lived in number thirteen, our summer cottage out in the country was also at number thirteen and I was born on the thirteenth...

But then, only old ladies, rock stars, and complete nutters believe in the magic of numbers.

Retro babe
Panzer Jagdpanzer 38(t) Hetzer
With a group of Czech resistance fighters in May 1945.
Not my people
Not my war

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