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The text

NO!

Amazing how one tiny two-letter word can set off a cold war, an endless siege and a bombardment on repeat!

The war of attrition started with the call of the North: 3h33 of voice monologues every day, without fail, all through the long winter months!

He lays siege so I'll join him in Lower Valhalla. It's his one goal, his obsession. He begs, he sings me “The Lament of the Abandoned Viking”, he guilt-trips me, he flies off the handle:

Him — You've got nothing, I've got everything, come and live with me! You don't love me! Yada yada yada…

But just the thought of being stuck in his drak-car again, with Big Dog, the cold and his temper, and I've only one fear: ending up outside in the snow, at -10 °C, in a frozen nature reserve, miles from a living soul, in a country where I can't even speak a word of troll.

I can't help it, every cell in my body digs its heels in. No, not the cold! Every cell in my brain digs its heels in. No, not dependence! In short, NO! And make that a double!

His longship is 12 m², his hangar 300 m². His playground does it all: he's got so much room he puts up partition walls to add a lounge, a workshop, you name it. But the king of breeze blocks is out of stock when it takes two walls in a corner so I can give my massages. So I protect my independence and he thinks I don't love him! And nobody's lying!

Six months to find a job, three CVs a day, a proper marathon! But I'm coping. The fifty-something, her own boss for 25 years, has rather forgotten her salaried days… And given my last experience, I can't say I miss them much. But I'm not throwing in the towel. I haven't said my last word.

What really wears me down, though, is being cut short by his daily assaults! I've forgotten what a full night's sleep feels like, and the hummingbirds have done a runner with my hammock.

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Sunday Is Showtime!

The journalist hands them a game — I've brought you a Magic 8 Ball: you give it a shake and read.

The author — Ooh, brilliant, let's leave it to chance, I love it!… Here goes… “Kiss me!”

The Viking — Bang on target!

The author turns to the Viking — Perfect chance to ask you why you're so angry with me and so rattled at the same time? Is it because you love me and won't admit it?

The Viking — Maybe… I never denied my feelings for you, but you pushed me away!

The author — Wrong! I loved you and followed you to Lower Valhalla three weeks after we met, I wasn't saying no! I even wrote a novel about it!

The Viking — Well, your life was so dull without me! I got you out of your comfort zone, we went sailing, camping, toured Lower Valhalla, it was brilliant! But no, you stayed planted in your hammock putting down roots, you didn't love me!

The author — Too right, your life is terrible! A non-stop beer festival!

The journalist — And you, what do you suggest to the reader?

The author — To write a no they've never dared to say*.

The Viking — Me, I've never been able to say no… to a beer! I've got a six-pack in the drak-car, let's celebrate getting back together!