Aalborg and the northern dunes, the meeting point of two seas, have lured artists, writers and nature-lovers for generations – a cultured haven fusing style with tradition.
Niels Jensen represented my first experience of the happy-go-lucky Danes.Admittedly, it took place in the confines of an all-male boarding school. But, then, Scandinavia was as remote a location as the rest of England – so none of us ever asked Niels, who was in my year, why on earth he had swapped the land of blond free love for Victorian sadism and over-indulgent tradition.
Instead of withdrawing into an introspective vortex of parent-blaming, it was wholly Danish of Niels to see his absurd plight as a cause for yet more giggling. His accent was thoroughly pukka and, on leaving school, he joined the Irish Guards after a spell at Sandhurst. On his first day, one of his men approached him with a serious complaint. ‘Sorry, I was told this was the Irish Army – not the British Army. I’ve joined the wrong side.’ Niels was able to give him immeasurable comfort: ‘Don’t worry, old man. I’m Danish. So I’m even more confused.’
A fortnight before my flight to Aalborg, I bumped into Niels, on a return from Hong Kong, his most recently adopted country. He was unable to offer any detailed advice about his homeland, other than to pronounce the beer Tuborg with the only Danish accent I’ve ever heard him use. He was, however, keen to stress the motherland was ‘absolutely ripping’.
His national pride, unabetted by years abroad, was replicated everywhere we went in North Denmark. Lars, our cheerful guide, was only too keen to tell us that the citizens of Aalborg belonged to the happiest city in Europe.
Married as I am to a Yorkshire lass, I am immune to such unabashed self promotion. The further north one goes, the worse it gets. In Iceland, self aggrandisement and an abandonment of the facts are the national condition. In twenty years, they’ll be telling their children Iceland won Euro 2016, instead of reaching the quarter-finals.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der August 2017-Ausgabe von The Oldie Magazine.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
Bereits Abonnent ? Anmelden
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der August 2017-Ausgabe von The Oldie Magazine.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
Bereits Abonnent? Anmelden
Travel: Retreat From The World
For his new book, Nat Segnit visited Britain’s quietest monasteries and islands to talk to monks, hermits and recluses
What is... a nail house?
Don’t confuse a nail house with a nail parlour. A nail house is an old house that survives as new building development goes on all around it.
Kent's stairway to heaven
Walter Barton May’s Hadlow Castle is the ultimate Gothic folly
Pursuits
Pursuits
The book that changed the world
On Marcel Proust’s 150th anniversary, A N Wilson praises his masterpiece, an exquisite comedy with no parallel
RIP the playboys of the western world
Charlie Methven mourns his dashing former father-in-law, Luis ‘the Bounder’ Basualdo, last of a dying breed
Arts
Arts
My film family's greatest hits
Downton Abbey producer Gareth Neame follows in the footsteps of his father, grandfather and great-grandmother, a silent-movie star
Books
Books
A lifetime of pin-ups
Barry Humphries still has nightmares about going on stage. He’s always admired the stars who kept battling on