Woods In Winter

Where, twisted round the barren oak,
The summer vine in beauty clung,
And summer winds the stillness broke,
The crystal icicle is hung.

Where, from their frozen urns, mute springs
Pour out the river’s gradual tide,
Shrilly the skater’s iron rings,
And voices fill the woodland side.

Alas! how changed from the fair scene,
When birds sang out their mellow lay,
And winds were soft, and woods were green,
And the song ceased not with the day!

But still wild music is abroad,
Pale, desert woods! within your crowd;
And gathering winds, in hoarse accord,
Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.

Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, from: Woods In Winter

Winter Wonderland

There are strange and mysterious sounds
When the winds of winter blow,
The long nights are crystal clear and cold,
And the fields and meadows are covered with snow.
The stars are frosty against the sky,
And the wind’s whistle is shrill,
As the snow blows against the house
And drifts against the hill.
Yet, I like to see during the winter
A white carpet on the ground,
To plod aimlessly in the deep snow,
where deer tracks abound.
I like to feel the stillness
Of a crisp winter’s night,
Watching a full moon rise over the horizon,
Exposing a winter wonderland beautiful and bright.
Joseph T. Renaldi

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Der er ingenting i verden så stille som sne.

Der er ingenting i verden så stille som sne,
når den sagte gennem luften daler,
dæmper dine skridt,
tysser, tysser blidt
på de stemmer, som for højlydt taler.
Der er ingenting i verden af en renhed som sne,
svanedun fra himlens hvide vinger.
På din hånd et fnug
er som tåredug.
Hvide tanker tyst i dans sig svinger.
Der er ingenting i verden, der kan mildne som sne.
Tys, du lytter, til det tavse klinger.
O, så fin en klang,
sølverklokkesang
inderst inde i dit hjerte ringer.
– Helge Rode

A Belt Excavator and the JCB Song

I was heading towards the lake today. There are road works in many places, and as I passed a belt excavator it reminded me of this song; The JCB Song.
Have you ever passed a construction site with a five-year old child. They are able to stand there for hours checking every little detail.

Today wasn’t a day for standing still. The cold weather is here to stay for awhile.
I met a man at the lake. It is very refreshing, he greeted me. Fie! What a cold, and I forgot my hat.
Remember your Beanie or your hat! Your head emit a lot of heat – in fact, up to 75% of your body heat.

Happy Walk ❤

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Frozen lake - Lyngby SøJeg var på vej mod Lyngby Sø i dag. Der er vejarbejde mange steder, og da jeg passerede en gravemaskine, mindede den mig om denne sang; The JCB Song. Har du nogensinde passeret en byggeplads med et fem år gammelt barn? De er i stand til at stå der i timevis, og ingen detalje er for lille.

I dag var ikke en dag at stå stille. Det kolde vejr er kommet for at blive i et stykke tid. Jeg mødte en mand ved søen. “Det er meget friskt i dag, men fy! Hvor er det koldt, og jeg glemt min hat”.
Husk din Beanie eller din kasket! Dit hoved udsender en masse varme – faktisk op til 75% af din kropsvarme.

God tur ❤

Yosemite Nature Notes – Winter Moments

“As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I’ll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can”.”
John Muir

The Light

The light at the heart of the World

Light, my light, the world-filling light,
the eye-kissing light,
heart-sweetening light!
Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life;
the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love;
the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light.
Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.
The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling,
and it scatters gems in profusion.
Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling,
and gladness without measure.
The heaven’s river has drowned its banks
and the flood of joy is abroad.

Rabindranath Tagore

The ice

Tell me about Sweden

A dear friend of mine asked me about Sweden. What is there to say? What is special about the country?
I like their high moral. The Swedish friends I have might say that the moral is hypocrisy but I like many of their views.
Sweden is the third-largest country in the European Union by area, with a total population of over 9.8 million inhabitants.
Sweden has a low population density of 21 inhabitants per square kilometre, with the highest concentration in the southern half of the country. Approximately 85% of the population lives in urban areas.
Southern Sweden is predominantly agricultural, while the north is heavily forested.

We stayed for Christmas Eve in Sweden this year and had a very cosy Christmas. As usual we went for beautiful walks in the countryside and along the coast.

Sweden has great nature. There are many nature reserves and national parks. Furthermore is the establishment of Sweden’s first national tourist bicycle route – a 370-km-long bicycle route in a unique coastal setting. The route runs all the way through Halland, connecting Helsingborg in the south and Gothenburg in the North.

En af mine kære venner spurgte mig om Sverige. Hvad er der at sige? Det særlige ved landet?
Jeg kan godt lide deres høje moral. De svenske venner, jeg har, vil måske sige, at deres moralbegreber er noget hykleri, men jeg kan godt lide mange af deres synspunkter.

Sverige det tredje største land i EU efter størrelse, med en samlet befolkning på over 9,8 mio indbyggere.
Sverige har en lav befolkningstæthed, med den højeste koncentration i den sydlige halvdel af landet. Ca. 85% af befolkningen bor i byområder.
Sydsverige er overvejende landbrug, mens den nordlige del er stærkt repræsenteret af skov.

Vi holdt juleaften i Sverige i år, og havde en meget hyggelig jul. Som sædvanlig og med stor glæde gik vi enestående ture i Haverdal Naturreservat.

Sverige har stor natur. Der er mange naturreservater og nationalparker. Desuden er etableringen af Sveriges første nationale turist cykelrute en realitet – en 370 km lang cykelrute i et unikt kystnære omgivelser. Ruten løber hele vejen gennem Halland, der forbinder Helsingborg i syd og Göteborg i nord.

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Kattegatleden

The Bumblebee who thought it could fly and did it –

I know of examples where people have travelled through war-torn countries without being conscious of what they risked. With their behaviour they signalled a distinctly calm that was completely unjustified if they had known what was at stake.
Maybe it was the same phenomenon that prevailed a New Year where we were invited to Honefoss in the southern part of Norway.
We took the bus from Copenhagen with champagne and beef tenderloin as the most important gear. When we got outside Oslo a beautiful snowy landscape began to materialize.
We got off the bus at the appointed place so Marianne could pick us up in their new Audi, but no one came.
After fifteen minutes we phoned her.
I’m on my way! The bus driver dropped you at the wrong place.
Ten minutes later we were united and soon we reached the gate of the house.
It was absolutely fantastic located up on the hills overlooking the fjord.
Marianne switched gears and directed the car to the very steep climb. On one side of the small road was a wood piece. On the other hand, a free fall down to a building’s basement.
Now the steep climb began. We had almost reached the house when the wheels went greasy around and the rear of the vehicle skidded against the deep fall towards the basement. The wheels grab some gravel on the roadside and the front of the car swung around, and we were heading back down. Don’t use the breaks, we cried. I only use the motor, our hostess added calm as she continued back to where we came from.
I leave the headlights on so you can watch your steps, said Marianne when we looked at the steep road in front of us.
We took our gear and went along the little forest piece up the road.
On the back of the house was a small parking lot we had to pass. I was about to slant across the road when I slipped. We didn’t have a chance to pass without falling. We ended up crawling across the road with the backpack in front of us.
This was our entrance to a New Years Eve. Marianne sat in the car laughing and tears trickled down her cheeks she kindly told us later.
Why do I write in such detail about our arrival?
Previously Marianne walk down the hill to pick us up at the bus. She ran up the hill across the icy parking lot, got into the car and drove down the hill with a light touch on the brakes without accident. That is what my post is about.
I wish for all of us that we can overcome the great challenges that are inevitable in life; that we may have the good luck when we face difficult tasks; and that we always will be confident.

“May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.”
An Irish Blessing

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Jeg kender eksempler, hvor folk har rejst gennem krigshærgede lande uden at være bevidst om, hvad de risikerede. Med deres adfærd, har de signaleret en udpræget ro, der var helt uberettiget, hvis de havde vidst, hvad der var på spil.
Måske var det det samme fænomen, der prægede begivenhederne et nytår, hvor vi blev inviteret til Hønefoss i den sydlige del af Norge.
Vi tog bussen fra København med champagne og oksemørbrad som den vigtigste bagage. Da vi kom uden for Oslo begyndte et smukt snelandskab at vise sig.
Vi stod af bussen på det aftalte sted, så Marianne kunne samle os op i deres nye Audi, men ingen kom.
Efter femten minutter ringede vi til hende.
Jeg er på vej! Buschaufføren satte jer af på det forkerte sted.
Ti minutter senere var vi forenet, og snart nåede vi huset.
Det var helt fantastisk placeret op på bakkerne med udsigt over fjorden.
Marianne skiftede gear og rettede bilen mod den meget stejle stigning.

På den ene side af den lille vej var der en lille skovstykke. På den anden side, et frit fald ned til nabohusets kælderindgang.
Nu begyndte den stejle opkørsel. Vi havde næsten nået huset, da hjulene fedtede rundt og bagenden af ​​køretøjet skred mod det dybe fald mod kælderen. Hjulene greb noget grus i vejsiden og den forreste del af bilen svingede rundt, og vi var på vej ned igen. Brug ikke bremserne, skreg vi. Jeg bruger kun motoren, sagde vores værtinde roligt mens hun fortsatte ned til foden af bakken, hvor vi kom fra.
Jeg lader forlygterne være tændt på bilen, så I kan se hvor I går, sagde Marianne da vi kiggede op ad den stejle vej foran os.
Vi tog vores gear og gik langs det lille skov stykke op ad vejen.
På bagsiden af ​​huset var en lille parkeringsplads, vi måtte passere. Jeg var ved at skrå over vejen, da jeg gled. Vi havde ikke en chance for at passere uden at falde. Vi endte med at kravle på tværs af vejen med rygsækken foran os.
Dette var vores entré til en nytårsaften. Marianne sad i bilen grinede mens tårerne trillede ned ad hendes kinder. Det har hun senere fortalt os med stor indlevelse.
Hvorfor skriver jeg så detaljeret om vores ankomst?
Først på aftenen gik Marianne ned ad bakken for at hente os ved bussen. Hun løb op ad bakken, hen over den isede parkeringsplads, kom ind i bilen og kørte ned ad bakken med et let tryk på bremserne uden uheld. Det er det, mit indlæg handler om.
Jeg ønsker for os alle, at vi kan overvinde de store udfordringer, der er uundgåelige i livet; at vi kan have det held og lykke der skal til, når vi står over for vanskelige opgaver; og at vi altid vil være tillidsfulde i vores tro på os selv.

Som Humlebien der troede den kunne flyve og gjorde det ❤

Godt Nytår ❤

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¹”En af de mest citerede videnskabelige påstande er den om at humlebien ikke kan flyve, men den ved det ikke, og derfor flyver den bare alligevel.” Wiki

 

My Rescuer was a Ghost

I’ve told this story before but today it recurs on my blog once more.
A friend in Ireland told me to take care if I was going out in the storm this morning. But it’s only a moderate gale at the moment and it was on such a day we went for a walk on Samso, a tiny island in the middle of Denmark:

I thought of the last time I was here. The sun was shining, we laughed, told stories and had no problems passing the narrowest place on the reef.
But now, now it is different. It is an early November morning, and it’s freezing cold with a gale coming in from the stormy sea.
We are heading home after a night out on the reef. We are weary and cold. The storm, which meteorologists cancelled, came in after all during the night. I am not terrified, but the experience is frightening because the elements are raging on us.
We are in a hurry. The tide is coming in and it might be difficult to pass the narrow piece of land.
Finally, we reach the place called ‘Draget’. It starts to rain, and the prickly feeling in my face tells me that hail is mixed with rain. Strong winds cause us to lose balance on the stony ground. I have feared this moment but we dare not wait for low tide of fear of getting hypothermia.
I feel uncomfortable now that I can see big choppy waves over the crossing place.
The water will reach far up the legs. I get an eerie sight before me, like a flashback. A man is struggling in the water to save himself. I push the sight away.
Now it is important that we stay focused.
My friend goes first, he is about to lose his footing, the waves crash around his waist. We are much too late to avoid the tide.
Now it’s my turn. I walk out in the sea and I can feel stones and holes in the seabed. The water is ice-cold, and my breathing becomes paralysed by the shock of the cold. One moment of distraction gives a gust the chance to topple me over in the waves. I get my head under water, and the only thing I think about is not to panic, while I feel the current carry me away from land.

The next sight that greets me are two horses coming towards me. On one of the horses is a big man in oilskins. He throws a rope at me with a bottom loop. A new wave washes over me, and everything disappears in a seething sea. I swallow large mouthfuls of seawater, but finally managed to breathe.
Pull the rope down on you, the man shouts through the storm and the roaring sea. I managed after several unsuccessful attempts, because my fingers are stiff with cold.
Hold on to the rope, he shouts, as he pulls me towards the shore and safety. My friend is standing on the shore, he helps me with dry clothes and wraps me in a blanket. My rescuer nods approvingly, and begins to ride away with his two horses. Wait! What’s your name? He turns around, laughing and then he shouts, my name is Soren.
Thank you, Soren! He waves and in a glimpse he disappears in a sea spray.

We look at each other, shocked and relieved at the same time. It is hard to understand our luck. Where did he come from, Soren? How could he know that I needed him desperately, and why did he disappeared so quickly.
We walk the last kilometres of the reef and reach the car.
After a rest we drive back to our Bed and Breakfast in Nordby. When we pass the pond, we cannot believe that we have only been away for a day. I’m still in shock after the incidents on the reef.
We order breakfast with our hostess and tell our story.
She is appalled at our accident and asks to my rescuer. What did you say his name was? Soren, we only got his first name.
It’s a mystery who he might be, and she wonder about how he could be there when we so desperately needed him.

On our way home to where we live, we took a stroll in the town, Grenaa. As we pass the Market Square, I perceive a glimpse of a drowning man, the same vision I got on the reef.
I look around, and the image of the drowning man disappears quickly, but it is eerily lifelike.
My gaze wanders to a statue, and my legs almost fail me.
There he stands, my rescuer, Soren Kanne, died in 1860, drowned in a stream when he took the wrong way in the dark.
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This a real Tall Tale. However, I have been on the northernmost point of Besser Reef, and I have even rowed to the cemetery on the tiny island, Kyholm.
I have also been too late and had to wade the crossing, but in good weather.
One spring we had scheduled the trip to the northern point of Besser Reef, but as we stood at the narrow forager we reconsidered our choice. The current was strong and the water deeper than I liked.
Previously drowning accidents occurred here, according to the Nature School on Samsoe and to Le Drake.

I would like to have met Soren Kanne who was known as a lively and likeable man.

Soren Kanne has made his name known by a heroic feat. When a ship from Hornbæk stranded outside of Hessel and the Captain Ole Jensen Jyde couldn’t save himself, Søren Kanne swam, despite the raging storm with his horses out to the ship and brought him safely to land. This incident occurred 02.16.1835.

Jeg tænker på sidste gang, jeg var her. Solen skinnede, vi grinede, fortalte historier og havde ingen problemer med at passere Draget, selvom strømmen hev og trak i os.
Men nu, nu er det anderledes. Det er tidlig morgen, det er November, det er isnende koldt, og det stormer.
Vi er på vej tilbage til bilen, efter at have overnattet ude på revet. Vi er forfrosne og trætte. Stormen, som meteorologerne aflyste, kom alligevel i løbet af natten. Jeg er ikke bange, men oplevelsen er voldsom, fordi elementerne raser om os.
Alt det ekstra tøj vi havde med, har vi taget på. Natten har vi klaret ved at rulle os ind i vores vindtelt og tarp, og ligge os tæt sammen for at holde varmen. Nu går vi ad den besværlige vej tilbage til Draget. Rullestenene er svære at gå i, fordi vi er trætte og forfrosne, og fordi vi skal skynde os, inden vandet igen begynder at stige.
Endelig når vi Draget. Det er begyndt at regne, og den stikkende følelse i ansigtet fortæller mig, at det også hagler. Kraftige vindstød får os til at miste balancen i det usikre underlag. Jeg har frygtet det her sted. Men vi tør ikke vente på, at det bliver lavvande af frygt for at få hypotermi.
Det er med stort ubehag, jeg kan skimte, hvordan havet står i krappe bølger henover revet. Helt tæt på ser vi strømmen drive rask igennem revet. Vandet vil gå os langt op ad benene.
Jeg får et uhyggeligt syn, ligesom et flashback. En mand kæmper i vandet for at redde sig selv. Jeg skubber synet væk. Det er nu, vi skal over, og det gælder om at bevare fokus. Min ven går først over, han er lige ved at miste fodfæstet, bølgerne slår op omkring livet på ham. Vi er alt for sent på færde til at undgå tidevandet.
Nu er det min tur. Jeg går ud i vandet, og mærker sten og huller på havbunden. Vandet er iskoldt, og mit åndedræt bliver lammet af chokket fra kulden. Et øjebliks uopmærksomhed giver et vindstød chancen for at vælte mig omkuld. Jeg får hovedet under vand, og det eneste jeg tænker på er, ikke at gå i panik, mens jeg mærker strømmen bære mig væk fra land.
Det næste syn der møder mig, da jeg får hovedet over vandet, er to heste der kommer galoperende, svømmende imod mig. På én af hestene sidder en stor mand i olietøj med en sydvest på hovedet. Han kaster et reb ud til mig med en bunden løkke. En ny bølge slår ind over mig, og alt forsvinder i et sydende hav. Jeg sluger vand, men kommer op i den næste bølgedal.
Træk tovet ned over dig, råber han gennem stormens og havets brølen. Det lykkes mig efter flere forgæves forsøg, da fingrene er stive af kulde.
Hold godt fast i rebet, råber han, og trækker mig ind mod land og sikkerhed. Min ven står parat inde på land, han får det våde tøj at mig, og hyller mig ind i hans uldtrøje og et tæppe bliver viklet rundt om mig.
Min redningsmand nikker bifaldende, og begynder at ride væk med hans to heste. Vent! råber jeg, hvad hedder du? Han vender sig om, griner og råber, Søren. Tak Søren! Når jeg at råbe, inden han forsvinder væk i et skumsprøjt, og væk er han.

Vi kigger på hinanden, chokerede og lettede på samme tid. Det er næsten ikke til at forstå vores held. Hvor kom han fra, Søren? Hvordan kunne han vide, at jeg havde så hårdt brug for ham, og hvorfor forsvandt han så hurtigt.
Vi går den sidste kilometer, ad revet og når frem til vores bil. Her finder vi tørre uldtæpper og lunken te.
Efter en god pause kører vi hjem til Nordby til vores Bed and Breakfast pension. Da vi kører forbi gadekæret, kan vi næsten ikke tro, at vi kun har været væk et døgn. Jeg er stadigvæk lidt i chok efter mødet med Draget på Besser Rev.
Vi får morgenmad af vores værtinde, og fortæller vores historie.
Hun er rystet over vores uheld, og spørger til min redningsmand. Hvad siger I, han hedder? Søren, vi fik kun hans fornavn. Det er da en gåde, hvem han kan være, og hun undrer sig også over, hvordan han kunne være på pletten, da vi havde så hårdt brug for ham.
Der går nogle dage, med vandreture i Nordby bakker, men vi kan ikke glemme det dramastiske øjeblik på Draget.

På vejen hjem fra ferien går vi en tur igennem Grenå by. Det er, da vi går over torvet, at jeg i et glimt får et syn af en druknende mand, det samme syn jeg fik på Besser Rev. Jeg ser mig omkring, og billedet af den druknende mand forsvinder hurtigt, men er uhyggeligt livagtigt.
Mit blik strejfer statuen, og mine ben svigter mig næsten.
Der står han, min redningsmand, Søren Kanne, død i 1860, druknet i Grenå-åen, da han gik forkert i mørket.

Søren Kanne har gjort sit navn kendt ved en heltemodig bedrift. Da et skib fra Hornbæk strandede ud for Hessel og skipperen Ole Jensen Jyde ikke ved egen hjælp kunne redde sig, svømmede Søren Kanne, 16.2.1835, trods forrygende storm med sine heste ud til skibet og bragte ham frelst i land.

I kan læse mere om Søren Mikkelsen Kanne her.

Efterskrift:
Som jeg hentyder i overskriften, er det her en rigtig røverhistorie. Jeg har dog været på nordspidsen af Besser Rev, jeg har endda roet over til kirkegården på Kyholm, og jeg har været forsinket og måttet vade Draget, men i godt vejr.
Et forår havde vi planlagt tur til nordspidsen af Besser Rev, men da vi stod ved Draget, ombestemte vi os. Strømmen var stærk og vandet dybere, end jeg brød mig om.
Der er tidligere forekommet drukneulykker her, ifølge Naturskolen på Samsø og LeDrake

Jeg har desværre ikke mødt Søren Kanne 🙂 der var kendt, som en livlig og sympatisk mand, men det kommer jeg nok til en dag, men det haster ikke 🙂

A True Story about Unexpected Visitors

Old quarters are second to none when twilight is approaching.
Just before Christmas we went for a stroll in Hamlet´s old Helsingore. A visit in the harbour area was a necessity for me.

When the profile of Kronborg Castle grew bigger the vintage train came by with Christmas travellers heading for Helsingor.
The windows in the red wagon were misted. Noses were pressed against the cold glass to catch a glimpse of this tantalizing vision of the Castle Kronborg, the sea and the life on the harbour.
The misty look in the red train wagon turned my thoughts towards ghosts and their domains. That was appropriate because soon Restaurant Kronborg appeared with its beautiful yellow walls and warm lights in the windows.
Here were the old residences for the castle soldiers before the rebuild in 2005.

Maybe that’s why the restaurant was haunted by so many ghosts. Or did they come from the sinister case-mates under the castle? Endless dark tunnels that echoed with deep sighs and screams from defunct prisoners.

It’s hard to say, but the fact is that back in 2005 the doors of the restaurant were unlocked at night. Tables were covered and candles were lit to great despair for the guards, who thought the staff had forgotten to turn them off.

A strong feeling of being watched was sometimes so unpleasant that the staff avoided specific rooms.
The stories were fun and exciting when people were assembled, but the fun was over when they went alone to lock at night.

There was a stench of dead people and papers disappeared to reappear somewhere else.
Eventually it was too much for the restaurant manager, who asked for help by Birgitte Graae, a clairvoyant.
She guids ghosts over to the other side, but all the time there were new ghosts.

I hope they found their right place by now, or have found peace.
There have been peace about the ghosts, at least before this post. May it continue this way!!

Gamle kvarterer er uovertrufne, når tusmørket sænker sig.
Lige før jul gik vi en tur i Hamlet’s gamle Helsingør. Et besøg i havneområdet var et stort ønske hos mig.

Da konturene af ​​Kronborg Slot blev større kom veterantoget kørende i samme øjeblik med julegæster på vej mod Helsingør.
Vinduerne i den røde vogn var duggede. Næser blev presset mod ruden for at opfange et glimt af dette forjættede syn af Kronborg, havet og livet på havnen.

De slørede ansigter i den røde togvogn fik mine tanker til at gå i retning af spøgelser og deres domæner.
Det var passende, fordi snart viste Restaurant Kronborg sig med sine smukke gule mure, og varme lys i vinduerne.
Det var her de gamle boliger til slottets soldater lå, før genopbygningen i 2005.

Måske var derfor restauranten var hjemsøgt af så mange spøgelser. Eller kom de fra de skumle kasematter under slottet?
Endeløse mørke tunneller, hvor dybe suk og skrig genlød fra hedengangne ​​fanger.

Det er svært at sige, men faktum er, at tilbage i 2005 blev dørene til restauranten låst op om natten uden menneskelig indblanding. Borde blev dækket, og stearinlys blev tændt til stor fortvivlelse for vagterne, der troede personalet havde glemt at slukke dem.

En stærk følelse af at blive overvåget, var nogle gange så ubehagelig, at personalet undgik specifikke rum.
Historierne var sjove og spændende, når personalet blev samlet, men det sjove var forbi, da de gik rundt alene, for at låse om natten.

Der var en stank af døde mennesker og papirer forsvandt for at dukke op igen et andet sted.
Til sidst blev det for meget for restaurant chefen, der tilkaldte en clairvoyant, Birgitte Graae.
Hun hjælper spøgelser over på den anden side, men hele tiden var der nye spøgelser.

Jeg håber, genfærdene har fundet deres plads, eller har fundet fred.
Der var fred om spøgelserne i Restaurant Kronborg, i hvert fald før dette indlæg. Jeg håber, det forbliver på den måde!!