Now I'm curious cause of your tag. What did Swedish media say about the eurovision thing?
Oof yeah, here's a post detailing it ... here another... Basically they've absolutely flipped over the fact that Finnish public didn't give Loreen points at all (which I find absolutely hilarious) and suddenly started wielding such rhetoric as "the former eastern part of our kingdom" referring to Finland, which is???? like??? do I even need to say how Not Okay that is?
It might seem to some that the Finnish people are reacting to Sweden's (unfair) win and them being sore winners (which, points to them, I didn't know was possible!) with too much drama, but it's all tied to our history together. Finland has traditionally seen itself, and has been seen by other countries (Sweden included) as the sort of "little brother" to the more advanced, better-faring, glorious Sweden. While Sweden to my knowledge doesn't much care about what Finland gets up to (perhaps overlooking/ignoring us and our merits), Finland is always comparing itself to Sweden and trying to live up to it. It's a very common rhetoric and sort of, the atmosphere over here. We know more about Sweden than Sweden knows about us; we're constantly conscious that Sweden exists. Sweden gets talked about in international news; Finland, if mentioned, is often tied to - you guessed it - being Sweden's neighboring country.
We used to be part of Sweden for 600 years. During that time, Swedish was implemented as the language of the culture and the "civilised" whereas the finns living in the eAstErn pArT oF tHe kiNgDoM were seen as "wild" and "uncivilised" and just, generally a lesser people to the Swedish speaking population. We haven't been under Sweden's rule for some 200 years and STILL we can't seem to shake their influence on us. Swedish is still a mandatory language to learn at school (and I have many opinions on that, but that'd be another post). Finnish as a language has been disregarded for its whole existence. Our leading national thinkers and poets in the 19th century, who were the first ones to really push for the Finnish identity instead of us seeing ourselves as part of Sweden or Russia, wrote in Swedish. The first novel in Finnish was published in 1870.
So this is monumental to us, to have the whole word watching Finland and not Sweden. Finland has a lot of merits, especially considering how small a people we are (just 5,5mil). To have a song in our language, in Finnish be this popular, is something we couldn't have imagined. We as a people are humble to the extreme, so much that we might easily scorn anyone who is too successful (not a good thing!), and this is the first time in my life that I'm seeing the whole country rally behind someone like this. When we say "Our Jere" we mean it with our whole hearts. We're so so proud of him, everyone is, and for once Finnish people seem to think in unison that someone deserves all the praise and the success.
SO, to have Sweden in this UNIQUE moment of Finland raising its head and being "we're so amazing", with the rest of Europe going "yes you're so amazing!!", spew rhetoric like this, is just, unbelievable to me. Like I can't just believe that in the 21st century there are people in Sweden who hold up 200 year old thought patterns of our country. It's been shocking 'cos though there's always been rivalry, it's felt more... tongue in cheek. We "love to hate" Sweden over here. It's been "I hate Sweden (affectionate)". But now we find this unbelievably condescending and belittling attitude towards us raising its head, and we wonder, we thought we two were okay?? But have they always held these beliefs???
So there's a sense of betrayal in the air as well. And just, full on disbelief. And maybe we're starting to see that it has been like this all along, but we've decided to turn a blind eye to it? True colours shining through? Perhaps not... but yeah.
Sweden not looking good here!
(here's one more post that says the same that i did but was better at making it SHORT oops)
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So, this post happened, and then this, so then I thought okay why not, then I went out to vote, and then this little thing happened @brindlelogs
The candle on his desk went out unceremoniously after rousing him with its violent flickering.
Alfred Hillinghead adjusted his glasses and got up to stretch his aching joints and find another stump in Charlotte´s dwindling supply in the kitchen. He groaned from limbs that had gone stiff and realization that age was happening to him whether he agreed to it or not.
It´s not that he had dozed off exactly; his eyes had just gone unfocused after staring at latin terms and intricate illustrations for too long, and the flame not only jolted him back to reality, but also returned with it a helpful, neverending loop of „H e n r y“ riding a merry-go-round in his head.
Whenever he stopped to think at any point in the last 48 hours they were the only letters his brain seemed to want to string together, so he did what he could to populate it instead with any information he could find on South American butterflies exhibited in private or public collections in London over the last six years.
Back by his chair, he lit the new candle and shuffled the leaflets of various entomological associations that were strewn across his desk. He hoped one of them would hold a clue that could save his partner before he could get himself into a situation he could not get out of (because Alfred wasn´t there with him, and Henry was always so damn reckless).
He never knew London had so many passionate butterfly collectors.
But then again, teaming up with Henry was inevitably going to deliver surprises and revelations of all kinds. It´s what made him feel alive more than anything these days. That and Henry´s hands on his skin. (No, he chided himself. He must not think of that now. Nor his hands on Henry´s strong body willingly, eagerly arching up to him, fond eyes never leaving him, soft lips inviting him in, always ready to receive him… no.)
Alfred jumped up again this time, so vivid was the image in his mind. So warm Henry´s skin in his memory as if it were life and not mere thoughts he was conjuring up. He was suddenly enveloped by a need so mighty that it took his breath away and made him clutch at his waistcoat. His whole body seemed to miss Henry, after only two days. And no contact for another one at least.
Another issue was the steady stream of Henry´s voice that was gone from his ear, but not his mind.
He could hear Henry tease him, how unable to keep his focus Mr. Detective Inspector appeared to be. He´d probably even ruffle his hair, Alfred thought, which would earn him his best glare (his own hand going up to the side of his head without thinking, to imitate Henry´s touch), but that would only widen Henry´s grin and he might ask what could possibly be distracting him from his oh-so important work. He might even sit on Alfred´s armrest or...
Alfred´s cheeks began to burn when he looked down at his desk and thought back to how they had said a last urgent goodbye right on this very surface two and a half days ago, even though they had already done that and more extensively the night before.
A knock on the front door rushed him back to the present. It sounded hurried, but before Alfred could even leave the study, or wonder why the mysterious caller did not use the door bell, he heard the door open and close hastily, key turning, locking them in. The only one with a key besides Charlotte and Polly would be…
„Henry! What in the-,“ Alfred took two fast strides forward as a sodden Henry Ashe (his Henry) stumbled into the room (when had it started raining?), a cut along one eyebrow bleeding profusely down his face and staining his shirt (how long has he been bleeding??)
„Change of plans,“ Henry announced with a weak, self-deprecating smile, and winced as Alfred´s worried hands fluttered over him.
Finally, Alfred held Henry in place in front of him and closed his eyes for a second. „Alright. Sit down. Tell me everything. I´ll get the bandages.“
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