Viking kicked out of country, partner relieved.

I write you from the "fish tank," the holding cage deep in the bowels of the Vancouver airport. PDA's are wonderful but slow so bear with me. The reason for this strange place to write a blog is as follows:

On Sunday I put on my Randonneur smock (yellow cycling jacked with super long tails and lots of reflective material), adjusted my helmet mirror and made cucumber sandwiches and tea. The tea I put in a Plaid Thermos, the sandwiches in my Ortlieb backroller plus panniers and then I dressed Jax up in the matching getup as myself. Yes, she did resist but I'm stronger and I own a war hammer so my will prevailed. Lastly I raised the stems on both of our bikes donned my wraparound safety glasses with yellow lenses and then the two of us got on the Goose like civilized people. We made our way to the Switch bridge where we reflected on the human condition and the ever increasing traffic, had some tea and crumpets and continued down the Lochside trail. We saw many fellow "randis" and when we passed another group, we nodded to them because "if you want to be safe, you don't take your hands of the handlebars Jax!" At the Blenkinsop trestle we had another tea and counted birds and then we rode non-stop to the Michells farms, where we bought some fruit (which I stashed in my handlebar bag). Thereon we rode to Sidney. In Sidney we scoured the local thrift stores, had some Shepard's pie and rested our weary legs. Finally after a few hours of sifting through antique stores and making a down payment on an excellent replica of the Mallard duck, which conveniently was also a telephone, we made our way back home. Jax did not appreciate this Randonneur fad and was growing ever more irate as time went by. When I insisted that we stopped near the farms in Saanich so we could enjoy the country air and have an opportunity to put out my Burberry blanket and have a proper country picnic, Jax said "sure" and waited for me to bend down and put out the travel set of cups and saucers from my "Windsor" travel set. then she promptly beat me over the head with her bike, stabbed me in the thigh with my exquisite cheese knife and took off screaming: "There's a mad foreigner chasing me. Shoot him, he's got rabies and swine flu, don't even let him come close, shoot on sight."

last photo of Halldor as a legal resident in Canada, before the madness set in