It is weird. A visit to Denmark was, on the itinerary paper, quite exciting. Back in the day not a great many people went to Copenhagen from the UK in winter.
I did the usual stuff on the Thursday and Friday and then had a solo wander around the city centre on the Saturday. Flew home Sunday.
And here's the thing. I really can't quite remember that much about wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen. I did Tivoli, nice. I did the palace area, picture above, nice. What else did I do? No memory at all. I am sure it was nice. I've forgotten it all. Except one part. I bought an arty expensive blacksmithed candelabra that would double up as a Christmas decoration in my Marlow home.
That bohemian festive buy was a defining traveling moment.
Until then I had always bought posters from exhibitions displaying at the time of my visit. I still try and gather posters now, and have a few dozen in rolls waiting to get framed up - they will be in the rolls when I am dead and gone I reckon. With the posters from then on I would only buy a massive piece. No more tiddly things for shelves, or fridges or pencil cases. From now on it was "pieces" - big dobbing pieces that were worth the struggle and argument over what was in the hand baggage. Impactful pieces that I'd look at and smack into the imagination.
I can understand why Sir Elgin swiped the marbles off the Acropolis, and why the Victorians filled up the British Museum with other stuff.
I've no idea where that candelabra table top thingy is now. Although when I see my mate's son playing with Lego I know I have "been" to Denmark. And when I have a bacon buttie after a night on the beers I can think, yup, "done" Copenhagen.
But maybe that no big bit of souvenir and no photos is why Copenhagen isn't remembered too well. I don't have a massive dobbing piece of souvenir from Denmark prompting my memory every time I look at it. And the work was the same as Norway and Sweden if truth be told.
Hang on, I think I know where that thing may just be. I hope she appreciates it!