This year the present of choice in Kiruna seems to have been a circular saw – at least if our local papers ads are anything to go by. With a present like that lying around, I dread to think what might happen in a typical family household in southern England, when family tensions have reached their peak during a long boring, Boxing Day. However, here in Kiruna, a circular saw is obviously the Perfect Gift.
It’s both hard and easy to have romantic notions here. On the one hand – silky white snow, orange horizons, dancing green lights, distant snowy peaks – it’s the stuff that winter dreams are made of. On the other hand – frequent noisy tractor activity in the street (clearing snow – we’re grateful, of course), the iron ore mine churning out vast plumes of steam into the night, gardens with vast collections of rusty machinery and old vehicles – these are reminders this is a town of practical purpose, not a Disney wonderland.
It’s the charm of the place of course, that it is both one thing and another. I remember this as our neighbour’s garden (and the view from ours) fills up with more vehicles for each passing day. I penned this Christmas ode, set to a famous tune, to come to terms with it.
The Twelve Days of Christmas
On the first day of Christmas my neighbour left for me
a TV beside a birch tree.
On the second day of Christmas my neighbour left for me
Two EPA tractors,
and a TV beside a birch tree.
On the third day of Christmas my neighbour left for me
Three brand new ski-doos,
Two EPA tractors,
and a TV beside a birch tree.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my neighbour left for me
Twelve rusty spare parts,
Eleven battery chargers,
Ten Chevvy engines,
Nine windscreen wipers,
Eight summer tyres,
Seven tractor snow ploughs,
Six ski-doo trailers,
– Five Escort Vans –
Four Ford Cortinas,
Three brand new ski-doos,
Two EPA tractors,
and a TV beside a birch tree.
