Night of the Viking Fist
a dramatised account
of A real life drama
It has
been several days since I have blogged about my time in Seyðisfjörður. I guess
I have been wondering what to write about and I have not been sure where to put
Night of the Viking Fist.
On that
fateful Thursday night, which happened to be my first out in Seyðisfjörður I
ventured around midnight to café Lára, this place is only about 100 yards
from my front door. Icelandic people come out late, generally after midnight . Fairy lights adorn the old
wooden building and a large egg like lightbox glows promoting the local beer El-Grillo. This
beer which comes in a 330 ml can is quite good and at a decent 5% ABV. This
beer is also brewed by the owner of the Café and is exported to the rest of Iceland Scandinavia ; I have never seen it in the UK
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| El-Grillo 5% ABV |
This
night I had not met any of the drinkers before so I had a tickle of
apprehension. The snow was very heavy. I walked around the pub to the back
where a small wooden staircase leads to the bar entrance. A guy was standing outside the door smoking a
rolled cigarette. I said “Hi” and he greeted me with a warm smile and an
introduction, his name is Philippe. I pushed open the door and stepped into the warm where no more than 7 people occupied the small space. These people were clearly
quite merry and were making loud chanting noises. I smiled and walked deeper eventually
stopping at the bar. I knew about the local beer El-Grillo so I motioned
towards one of those. I smiled and introduced myself to some people who at
first felt intimidating but turned out to be very charming. An artist Caroline
was celebrating her last evening after 6 months in Seyðisfjörður and this is why the few
people there were in a very celebratory mood. Caroline from Switzerland introduced herself and
her boyfriend who was from Seyðisfjörður. She then quietly pointed out some of the
characters in the bar, I nodded and smiled and listened. I think there was a
carpenter, a fisherman, a photographer a metal worker and a truck driver. As it
was my first night out I can’t recall or pronounce all of their names. She also
pointed to a large man who’s back was turned and said “that man is a very big deal in
the town, he is Oddur Roth the grandson of Dieter, he is very nice but don’t
mess with him”
I was definitely not in the mood to be messing with anyone and
especially with the grandson of Dieter Roth. Oddur and his family do
not live in the town but own the harbour house where Dieter once lived,
according to a source they also own quite a lot of the town and are big
supporters of the artist residency program. They visit about four times a year
and when they are here everyone knows it. I was quite intrigued by his
presence and thought; oh I might even get to say hi to him later, for now I
will leave him alone as he looks quite intense. Some more people come up to me
and introduced themselves and I responded likewise. The mood was quite lively even with so few people - great!
They
could not get away with this behaviour back in London East London for being polite. My last ban from the Camel in
Bethnal Green was because I disputed whether kicking out time was 23:15 or
23:30, for a brief moment I begged to differ but was happy to be corrected, I
was told to get out and not come back, I just wanted to finish my pint without
the hipster clapping his hands and waiving Nazi salutes in my face.
So here
we are in Café Lára enjoying ourselves, Philippe said we might head to
someone’s house for drinks after and then someone said we are going to go to
Oddur’s house. I thought how interesting, I went to the toilet to have a pee.
When I was in the toilet I was thinking what strange and lovely people they
are. I washed my hands, pulled a serviette from the dispenser and dried them,
stepped on the pedal to raise the dust bin lid and tossed the damp serviette
inside, then I unlocked the door and moseyed back to the bar. Before I reached
my station I felt a firm tug and I was pulled into the bar by what happened to
be Oddur, before I got a chance to say hi mate good to meet you, Oddur had
twisted my scarf to double its tightness, hello I said but before I could say
my name is Liam he had again doubled the already tightened scarf, I let out a
gasp of “ahhhmm ohn thehh aahhtis rehhhsideehhncceh!” Alarmed - the surrounding people now realised Oddur was not joking and gathered around to tell him to
stop, Oddur just doubled the tightness again. I looked into his crazy eyes and it was like looking at a frenzied version of the late Dieter. Now I knew this guy is fucking
nuts and he is not going to stop, maybe Dieter Roth has possessed young Oddur and is trying to kill me. I had
both hands in tact my right one was trying to loosen the scarf but I still refused to
fight back. I had faith in the locals around me and if this guy is really this
nuts and owns half the village it could mean an early end to my stay if I retaliate. In the end I
had no option but to punch him once in the ribs. About that time the locals
managed to pull him off. This was a frightening moment which was followed by
massive confusion. I was taken outside and someone got my beer from the bar. Wow it was time to go, Philippe was preparing his house for us as guests and
everyone said lets move on. Caroline and her boyfriend went with Oddur; he had
a nice leaving present for Caroline which happened to be a beautiful seal skin
cloak. I thought I would have preferred one of them.
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| Night of the Viking Fist, Collage, water colour, Porridge, Skyr and Marker Pen on Paper, 2013 |
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| Later that evening a friendly fist comparison with a local Viking |