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  • Paul Kilgour

Round Trip #12 Langebro-Fiskerihavn

Friday 23 July 2021 It's the early bird that catches the Troll', as the famous Danish saying goes. So I'm up at the crack, accompanied by the gentle sounds of synchronised snoring, courtesy of Tina (girlfriend) and George (Cat, little madam). These are the sounds of Summer in Denmark.


Before I leave I am cornered by George who wants to know a thing or two.


George: I want to know a thing or two.

Me: Only a thing or two?

George: There may be more as they pop into my head.

Me: Watch out, there's not much room in there.

George: I'll have you over my knee if you're not careful, young lad.

George: Now then, why am I called George?

Me: You and Ringo were named after George and Ringo of that popular beat combo: The Beatles.

George: But it's a boys name. Weren't there any alternatives?

Me: Derek.

George: Derek?!

Me: Yes, of Derek and Clive.

George: But I'm a little Princess. I couldn't be named after one of them, they're rude.

Me: Little? I think your bottom would disagree.

George: I’ll ignore your insolence for the sake of cordial relations.

Me: Anything else?

George: Yes, as a matter of fact. I’d like a new bed. This one has a lump in it.

Me: I know. I put a pea under it to see if you were actually a Princess, as you claim.

George: How dare you interfere with my nighttime accoutrements.

Me: Well it turns out that you’re not a Princess after all. Your dad was that tomcat from two doors down. You know, the one with the limp and the funny eye.

George: Hmmph! I’m going for my afternoon nap on the Chaise. I have a headache!



Early morning drunks, rats, and trolls. All life is here.


First up, I am greeted by the site of the Kakak Hotel. Built on a wooden platform over the harbour, and strangely, not a hotel. Although still early, a topless man lies under a scorching sun, nursing a beer. The Kayak Bar & Grill, then.


Onwards to Fisketorv, the old fish market, and now a shopping mall. Hmmm...here's a prime position on the harbour, let's delight the locals and the tourists and stick this rather unlovely looking block of concrete and glass here, and ruin the view. There is a swimming area outside, where parents and their hideous screaming offspring compete to show off their belly flopping skills, and alpha males chat up girls. The lifeguards stare at their phones as little junior floats facedown, unnoticed.


I can hardly believe my luck as I turn the corner and come face to face with more boats! And look, a cycle bridge! At least some people seem to actually use this one.


Moving on swiftly through the area known as Sluseholmen - boring looking apartment buildings, built to look like every other new apartment building in Copenhagen. I'm sure they breed overnight and come out fully formed in the morning, along with suitable trendy looking tenants; complete with two small brats, a small dog, and a man bun. Beats me how they can afford these places in this country of supposed equality.



So, crossing over the main road and we're at Fiskerihavnen (The Fishing Harbour). At last, normal people!! Not a whole lot of fishing going on though, as far as I can see. Lots of fishing nets, but no actual fish. It doesn't even smell fishy. I smell a rat. Oh look! There's a small island out in the harbour which just happens to be named 'Rat Island'. I walked all the way out there, and guess what? No rats. Though I wasn't exactly disappointed. I was however, very nearly attacked by an extremely angry Swan, protecting its Swanlets. Running away into the woods, like the brave boy that I am, I come to a screeching halt at the foot of a giant Troll! The things I put myself through for you people.


Next time: No idea really.


Weather: Humid. Not too humid.

Reflections: Nothing is quite what it seems

Coffee: Crépetastic 7/10. Café Latte 35kr. Nothing to complain about.

Distance: 6.47km

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