A jumbled collection of randomness

Usual and, for that matter, unusual disclaimers apply. Which is to say that you don't have to read this if you feel that you couldn't be bothered with whatever tidbits and scraps of my life I choose to throw at you. So, if you decide to skip ahead, I have found these lovely little nodes for you to enjoy.

The other day, on my way to work, I saw a small duck family trying to get from their nest in the cemetery to the lakes nearby. It was during the morning rush hour, in the middle of Copenhagen, and Mama Duck, trailing her seven ducklings in a wobbly row, was attempting to navigate one of the busiest intersections in town. Two pedestrians and one cyclist held up traffic while the ducks were ushered across, allowing them to get safely to the lakes where they could get on with their duck lives.

That was very nice.

Later that same day one of the little girls in my daycare deliberately stepped on a big beetle.

Because it was big, she said when I asked her why.

That was her reason. She looked at me with large brown eyes, safe in the knowledge that she could do no wrong, and that killing things that looked big and ugly was perfectly okay as long as it was her doing it.

I didn't think it was okay, and I told her this. What was sad about the whole affair was that I could tell it was all new to her. Nobody had told her that killing things for fun is not really a Good ThingTM. That was a disheartening realisation.

Oh, come on, I hear you say. It was a beetle. It wasn't like she had killed a... kitten, or something!

No, it wasn't like she had killed a cat, or another fluffy, adorable animal. It was just a beetle, happening to be running along minding its own business only to end its life under the grubby shoe of a six year old. But someone has to speak up for the ugly lives, and someone has to teach six year olds that killing is not to be taken lightly. And beetles are notoriously hard to put back together when they are crunched.

Yesterday I saw some guy trying to run off from the check at a restaurant. I was out with a friend, having a quiet beer on Gråbrødre Torv in Copenhagen, when we heard shouting. A man came running past us, followed by a young waitress. Let me say I have never seen someone that small, cute, and angry run that fast. Her long black apron didn't seem to hinder her a bit, her arms were pumping and her blonde ponytail whipped her back as she raced by.

They both disappeared from view behind a corner, and I was hoping she didn't get caught on the wrong foot with the guy: he had been tall and burly looking, and though he may have been brought up to not hit girls you never know...

Another waiter came out into the drifting rain, following the path of the waitress. He soon returned, and shortly hereafter the guy came back too. Not of his own volition, not at all. He was flanked by two men who held on tightly to his elbows, pushing him forward while the winded waitress skipped ahead.

"I'll get his check ready", I heard her say.

The runaway customer tried to escape when they neared the restaurant, but his captors did not let go. He was brought inside - not into the restaurant proper, but downstairs, to the pub. A short while passed before he emerged again, none the worse for wear, and walked calmly past all the staring, mumbling beer drinkers and diners on the plaza.

What an idiot.

And how nice to see some ordinary bystanders - as I suspect they were - lend a helping hand to the hard working waitress. Although my bartender seemed to think the two helpers were really plain clothes police officers. He had had a better view of the struggle, so he may be right. Still...

In closing: my life has been a little odd lately, but it seems to be falling nicely back into place. The next three months include a trip to London, England, and a trip to Delft, The Netherlands, to meet noders aplenty. I'm looking very much forward to that.

As always, I thank you for your time. Now go do something worthwhile...

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