Finland photos

The Finland photos are on the Gallery. Editorial to follow.

Seeking the Aurora Borealis in Northern Finland - Part 1

When the organising company told me that our direct flights to Kuusamo had been cancelled by mistake and that we would be flying via Stockholm and what’s more there would be a four hour minibus transfer to Oulanka at the other end, I thought seriously about cancelling the trip.   It was expensive, it was over New Year, and I had booked it rather on a whim on coming back from Cuba in September and discovering that the disruption in my life continued.  Being away at New Year, a long way away, somewhere where the physical demands of the trip would force me to think of nothing else than dealing with the extreme environment I was in, seemed a sensible if slightly uncompromising option.  It also, as a by-product, fulfilled a couple of my never-too-late objectives: to step inside the Arctic Circle and to see a proper display of the Northern Lights.  I’d seen them once before, in Iceland in 2006 when I’d managed to drive for an hour down a motorway in the wrong direction and having turned around arrived at my hotel on the Snaefellsnes peninsula with just minutes to spare before the restaurant closed.   Having shared a bottle of (very expensive) wine with my travelling companion which we finished very quickly (note, expensive anywhere in Scandinavia does not necessarily correlate with ‘good’) and having spent about 6 hours in one position in a very small car, post dinner we were keen to stretch our legs and play about in the snow.  Stepping outside the triple-glazed warmth of the hotel and into the razor-sharp cold of the night we were joshing around until I looked up and said, “hang on a minute, why does the sky look so weird?”

We both stopped and in the quiet stillness turned our gaze upwards and realised, in a slightly dim fashion, that we were seeing the Northern Lights.  It was not a fabulous or momentous display, just a mild glow of green and yellow bands tripping across the sky but it drew us in and kept us there until our hands and feet could take the cold no more.

This New Year, in Finland, far further north, with solar activity more pronounced, I hope to see the Northern  Lights skipping and shimmering across the Arctic sky in a far longer and more intense display.  I have my fingers crossed.

The next adventure? Seeking the Aurora Borealis (the Northern Lights to me and you).

Nine lessons and carols at Kings College Chapel on Christmas Eve – would I recommend it for the Never Too Late List?

Most people will have heard carols from King’s at some point over the years either on CD at home as part of their Christmas Eve tradition or on the radio or TV.  The choir have voices like angels, the lessons remind us of the true meaning of Christmas and the service, invented at the college in 1918, is now inextricably associated with Christmas for many people both at home and abroad.  To get into the service by reservation you have to be part of the college great and the good (I spotted Mary Beard while I was there) or hold an important civic position, for example the mayor, though this is probably beyond most of us.  For a common or garden grunt such as me it meant a six a.m. start, over an hour’s drive and close to six hours of queuing. The chances of getting a good seat when you get in is very random (as I said in a earlier post, I was relatively lucky), the lighting is pants in much of the nave so it must be very hard even with reasonable eyesight to read the words to the carols, and the lessons themselves, whether by a young chorister or by the Provost can’t be heard very well at all.  It’s a beautiful building and most of the joy of being there is sitting in the quiet before the service begins, looking at the architectural splendour and musing on its history – there are still the remnants of graffiti left by Parliament soldiers during the Civil War on the north and south walls for instance.  And in more contemporary times the college has produced some notable alumni such as Robert Walpole, the first Prime Minister of Great Britain, E. M. Forster, the novelist, John Maynard Keynes, the Economist and Alan Turing, the mathematician, all or most of whom must have attended services in the chapel at some point, though not necessarily the Nine Lessons and Carols. 

Am I glad I did it? Yes I suppose so, mainly because of the strong association with Christmas Eve and having listened to it on the radio so many times.

Would I do it again?  No  But for some this was their third time and someone else had driven all the way from Manchester to attend.

Would I recommend it to others? Probably not.  Listen to the service on the radio and then, if you want to see the chapel itself, especially the altar and Ruben’s painting, go to a normal service.

Never too Late Mark? Two and a half out of five.

Nine lessons and carols at King's College Chapel on Christmas Eve, part 4

All of a sudden at about one forty-five the queue took a surge forward and there was a mad moment of disorganisation and chaos as everyone grabbed bags, chairs, brollies and moved to follow the flow.  The excitement level palpably rose.  A minute later another surge forward and we realised that at long last the doors must be open and the long wait would soon be over.  Rucksacks, large bags and brollies are not allowed into the chapel and these were jettisoned, with remarkably little concern into the care of the porter who stood, walk-talky in hand beneath the central arch of the Gibb’s building.  The KC porters are a fine lot, patient and good humoured.  The wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped as the sun began to go down but we knew in a few minutes we would be out of the elements and into the calm of one of the most beautiful and iconic buildings in England.  Six hundred people sitting under a fifteenth century fan vault roof beneath the gaze of saints who had looked down at so many other congregations over the centuries and we would all rise together to hear the Bible’s lessons of Christmas. And as I passed through the open doors and into the heart of the nave I raised my eyes from the stone steps up which I had walked and my first thought was….. bugger, what a lot of people. 

I was remarkably lucky.  Given my place in the queue there was no chance of a seat in front of the early renaissance rood screen in full view of the altar, but, funnelled down the side of the nave by the staff, I was directed to seats immediately behind the screen, and, the front row was still free.  Taking the seat on  the far end of the row, at ninety degrees to the screen I could see down into the candle-lit choir stalls and if I leaned forward a little, I could catch a glimpse of Ruben’s The Adoration of the Magi. But, for most other people, seated down the nave in the dark and on either side of the screen, it must have been almost impossible to see the words on the carol sheet, the choir or the altar.  The lessons themselves could hardly be heard from where I was sitting so I guess there was no chance for anyone sitting at the back.