To save you from clicking the link, the Independent article is about yet another Danish TV production being shown on BBC. Last year we had both “Forbrydelsen I and II” (The Killing), and now comes a new production “Borgen“. Interestingly the BBC hasn’t even translated the title. Maybe I can have some more fun with my colleagues who initially did a great British rendition of pronouncing “forbrydelsen” which, for the benefit of any Danish readers, became something like “forbraidelsen”.

The most recent gushing about Denmark has come about because of the Danish TV series “The Killing” (Forbrydelsen) currently showing on BBC4. The Telegraph and The Spectator all seem to like it too. The TV series has even warranted separate articles (such as: Sarah Lund’s Faroese jumper is the surprise star of BBC4′s The Killing) about the knitwear being worn.

As an aside, I met an elderly woman in a car-park on Saturday who said she had seen my Danish flag on my car and asked if I was Danish. She moved to the UK in 1966. She is also watching “The Killing” but she mentioned that she found it hard to understand the Danish spoken by the younger actors in the series, whereas the older actors were not a problem for her.

As we both got off at Waterloo I was wondering if I should still say something to her, but I decided not to ruin her day. Probably better to leave her unaware that I understood everything she had said. The moral of this (true) story is to be careful when speaking your non-English language in London, even when it is a language only spoken by 5 million people. London is too global a city for that…

I arrive at Waterloo station. This of course named after the battle in Belgium where Wellington won over Napoleon. The Eurostar train from Paris used to arrive here. I always thought it quite funny that the French who came here by train had to be reminded of this by the name of the station.

Further along my way to work I get a view of Big Ben and the London Eye.

I’m then greeted by Nelson Mandela outside the Royal Festival Hall.

Later in the day the skaters come here.

Looking across the river I see Charing Cross station and the old Shell building, now the Savoy hotel.

The booksellers Market at Southbank. Come summer and there will be many more books here.

The National Theatre, built in a style called “British Brutalism”. I wouldn’t want everything built like this, but I do like the building. I’m guessing that its not Prince Charles’ cup of tea.

A last view over the river with St. Pauls cathedral in the background.
I turn right and there’s work…

The above title has blatantly been copied from another blog. I ought to be more creative, but the title from the other blog is so descriptive.

The Sun: Lock me up before you go
Metro: The whammer in the slammer

Please, spare me and grow up!

I lived in the UK between 1991-1997, moved back to Denmark, and then moved to the UK again in 2006 so this is the third UK election I am witnessing. When I was a kid, there was atime when something like 15 political parties were represented in the Danish parliament. Almost all governments were minority governments and hardly any of them sat for the full four year period possible in Denmark. So I must admit that the “first-past-the-post” system appealed to me the way the winners representation tends to get exaggerated. It is usually the case that the winning party here received less than 50% of the vote, yet it has more than 50% of the representatives. Today I have changed my mind somewhat, a proportional system would be fairer. But just because the system might seem a bit arcane to other Europeans who have never experienced it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have its merits.

As is usually the case, nothing is black or white…

Staying out of conflicts is what Danes did (I’m not implying that is a bad thing). We sent peacekeeping troops to various places around the world once the conflicts where over or at least that is how it used to be, and it gave me little preparation to the British and their attitude to war. I’m not suggesting the British like war and having soldiers returned in body bags, but having beaten Napoleon, and being on the winning side of both WW I and WW II they consider themselves quite good at it. They even have an “Imperial War Museum”. There is a feeling that despite the setbacks after WW II (losing its empire), it punches above its weight militarily.

Except for the possibility of the cold war turning hot, growing up in Denmark gave me the impression that being a soldier in Western Europe was pretty safe after WW II. So I was very surprised when I learnt that British soldiers have died in combat every year since WW II except for one.

Remembrance Sunday is a ceremony held each year on the Sunday closest to November 11^th, the day when WW I ended and it commemorates the British soldiers that have died in conflicts around the world. Each year as we get close to remembrance Sunday, people buy and wear paper poppies to support the soldiers that have been injured and families that have lost someone who served as a soldier. Almost everyone wears a poppy, even the TV presenters. The poem “In Flanders Fields” refers to the poppies that grew on the graves of those who died on the battlefields of Flanders in WW I which is how the paper poppies of today have come to be used to remember those who have died in conflict.

Unlike for example Denmark, there is no (at least not yet) central register of who lives in the UK and where. And by the way, this article certainly should not be construed as an argument for a central register in the UK.

So how do you prove you live where you claim to live? Easy; the utility bill! You can get this all-important document from a utility such as the water company and the gas and electricity company. Water, gas and electricity are usually supplied to the address where you live; most people would prefer not to pay someone else’s water, gas or electricity. So once you get a bill from one of these companies with your name and address on, life in the UK becomes much easier.

Without the utility bill you may find it very difficult, maybe even impossible to open a bank account, without a bank account it is going to be difficult to be paid at most companies. If you don’t get paid, how will you pay your water, gas or electricity bill?

OK, it is not quite that bad, but it can be rather ridiculous. When we moved to the UK, I called the various utilities to register, not realising how important it was to have the bills issued in both mine and my wife’s names. The local library wouldn’t even issue her with a library card unless she could show them a utility bill. Before we had received a utility bill, we couldn’t get a credit card. Once you have proven once that you live at a particular address, it is usually not a problem to change your address. Nobody asked for a new utility bill when I registered our new address. The previous owner seems to be using that to my great annoyance. He hasn’t lived at my address for more than two years, but recently a lot of letters have arrived addressed to him, and several debt collection agencies have knocked on my door to collect the money he owes. I’m not the only foreigner who is irritated with the importance the utility letter has. There was an article in the Guardian last year on “Our dodgy love affair with utility bills “ and “The belief that a gas bill proves who you are and where you live…”, pointing out how easy it is to fake a utility bill.