“I liked him before, then all that terrible stuff with the kids”, the receptionist joyfully proclaimed.
Nervously looking at the back of the guy who had just checked in, “oh, yeah” I replied politely. What kind of people were I about to be sharing a dorm with?
“I mean, it’s worse in England – he had a lot of shows booked there, didn’t he?”
“Sorry, wait, who are we talking about here?” I asked, listening to Thriller playing in the background.
“Y’know, Michael Jackson”, she said, nodding towards the cd player.
It finally clicked. “Oh, of course, yes, if he ever turns up to any of his shows that is.”
“Well, he definitely won’t now”, she replied, turning her head to one side. Probably trying to work out if I were about to throw the rented bed linen over my head and run around pretending I was a ghost.
“Why not?”, echoing her feeling that I was talking to someone not quite on the planet.
The whole world could end over night, Norway could be the only place left on the planet. I probably wouldn’t find out until I went to board my flight. I’m not saying that Michael Jackson’s death is such a comparison, but it’s interesting what news does filter its way through after you’ve spent just 2 days hiking and travelling up and down fjords. This is the only news that has. Does Iran still exist? Has the London economy recovered while I’ve been away? Is Gordon Brown still prime minister?
It’s nice being shut off from the world for a little while. I’m sure if anything really big’s happened, I’ll hear about it on Twitter when I get back.