Sausage Swiper

Bjúgnakrækir nowadays
for a little hot dog pays!

Snowball fights and thrilling games

On the picture you can see some Icelandic figures or parts of them (Davíð Oddsson, Björgólfur Guðmundsson, Reynir Traustason, Jón Ásgeir Jóhannesson, Skyrgámur and Guðjón V.).

It's a good time for a snowball fight. Afterwards you should spend a milk ice for the patron saint of the 19th December, Skyrgámur. Later you will have a nice evening with your family playing Kreppuspilið, the thrilling crunch game.

Liquid funds

Askasleikir is the sixth of the Icelandic Jólasveinar, the troll lads, who come before Christmas to tease the people. Askasleikir (Bowl-licker) is waiting under the bed and when someone put his wooden food-bowl on the floor, he grabs it and licks it clean before cat or dog can do it.
But today Askasleikir was found lying in a ditch. He was immediately transported to a hospital to get his stomach pumped. I visited him and he reported:
I have a positive experience with cat food in the last years. The people don't give the animals leftovers any more but good meat in metal cans. In the morning I crept in a posh house and hid under the kitchen bench seat. I was enjoyed to hear the landlord's voice: "We will survive Christmas! I have hoarded a lot of tax-free Whisk-" - "Oh, God bless you, darling! Let's party and the devil may care," a woman cried. Later, when all was quiet I tiptoed into the store room. There were no cans but bottles with the label "Whisky". It must be a new sort of Whiskas, I thought. It was easy to open the first bottle. The liquid cat food really was a good stuff. But now I feel a bit wretched. Tell me why this devils wrenched it from my paunch!
Poor old lad!

As kitschy as can be?

You can see kitschy Coca-Cola-colored Santas all over the world, in Reykjavík, New York, London ... it's boring.

But there are other interesting figures:
Tomorrow comes Stekkjastaur (Sheep-Cote Clod), the first of the thirteen Jólasveinar, the Icelandic Yuletide Lads. They are no Saints but the sons of the troll woman Grýla and they tease the humans by stealing food and making mischief till Chistmas. You can see Stekkjastaur on the left side of the picture. If you like to enjoy the adventures of the Jólasveinar I recommend to visit the webpage of Mo'a Romig-Boyles within the next days.

On the right side there is an oldfashioned Nikolaus from the German children's book Struwwelpeter (1845). The educational poem The Story of the Inky Boys was translated by Mark Twain. We can learn that Saint Nicholas (the real Santa Claus) is also active in summer.

The Story of the Inky Boys
As he had often done before,
The woolly-headed black-a-moor
One nice fine summer's day went out
To see the shops and walk about;
And as he found it hot, poor fellow,
He took with him his green umbrella
Then Jóhnny, little noisy wag,
Ran out and laugh'd, and waved his flag,
And Skúli came in jacket trim,
And brought his woollen hoop with him;
And Kaspar, too, snatch'd up his toys
And joined the other naughty boys;
So one and all set up a roar,
And laughed and hooted more and more,
And kept on singing,--only think!--
"Oh! Blacky, you're as black as ink"

Now Saint Nicholas lieved close by,--
So tall he almost touched the sky;
He had a mighty inkstand too,
In which a great goose feather grew;
He call'd out in an angry tone,
"Boys, leave the black-a-moor alone!
For if he tries with all his might,
He cannot change from black to white."
But ah! they did not mind a bit
What Saint Nicholas said of it;
But went on laughing, as before,
And hooting at the black-a-moor.

Then Saint Nicholas foams with rage:
Look at him on this very page!
He seizes Kaspar, seizes Jón,
Takes Skúli by his little head;
And they may scream, and kick, and call,
But into the ink he dips them all;
Into the inkstand, one, two, three,
Till they are black, as black can be;
Turn over now and you shall see.

See, there they are, and there they run!
The black-a-moor enjoys the fun.
They have been made as black as crows,
Quite black all over, eyes and nose,
And legs, and arms, and heads, and toes.
And trowsers, pinafores, and toys,--
The silly little inky boys!
Because they set up such a roar,
And teas'd the harmless black-a-moor.