CAPTAIN COPENHAGEN

Captain Copenhagen tells the story of Helen and her daughter Leonie. After Leonie is diagnosed with depression at 14 years old, Helen decides that they need to move to the country that has been attributed as one the happiest countries in the world, Denmark. Her hope is that she can use the country, culture and everything Danish to “cure” her daughter and make her happy again. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.

This blog is a work of fiction. It includes comedic episodes from Helen’s perspective as she tries to navigate Danish life, and more subdued episodes from Leonie’s perspective as she tries to navigate her mother.

All episodes can be found at www.captaincopenhagen.co.uk.

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TRIGGER WARNING: Captain Copenhagen explores the topic of mental health.

The Eve of Christmas

Helen, Mother

Our first Danish Christmas. It was going to be right. It was going to be perfect. It was going to be Danish. 

We had to celebrate on Christmas Eve. Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve, opening presents on Christmas Eve, singing and dancing around the tree on Christmas Eve. In Denmark, Christmas Eve was where it was at.

I had done a lot of research. It was going to work this time.

Leonie had started to lose her appetite. She hadn’t eaten much over the past few days and I was getting worried. But I was hoping that this was the perfect chance for Denmark to work its magic and hopefully tempt her to eat a little something nice. It seemed that Danish Christmas, much like English Christmas, involved lots of yummy yummy food.

Specifically, Risalamande. A Danish Christmas pudding consisting of rice pudding with chopped almonds topped with cheery cherry sauce. Leonie loves both rice pudding and almonds, so I was sure she would be tempted to enjoy some of this Danish delight.

It had taken a while to make, but that was ok. If there is one thing I have learnt from my 50… or so… Christmases, it’s that, unlike what all the propaganda would have you believe, this is not a time to be spent with family. It is a time to be spent in the kitchen loving your family from a distance as you prepare them food.

The almonds needed to be both blanched and chopped, but I refused to do this all willy nilly. It had to be perfect. Each almond was given its own personal treatment, like in a spa. One by one I carefully chopped them to most perfectly match the recipe description of ‘roughly chopped’.

Four hours later, it was ready.

I brought in a little spoonful from the kitchen for her to try. She ate a little bit off the end. She seemed a little intrigued, but not tempted.

This was ok, I was not discouraged. I had something else hidden up my sleeve. The wondrous thing about Risalamande is that it isn’t just eaten, it is played.

‘You have to find the whole almond,’ I announced to her, ‘and the winner gets this prize!’ I held up a deliberately book-shaped present and saw her eyes light up just a tiny bit.

That’s right, a present, in exchange for a nut. Such a wonderful country.

She considered this for a moment, her eyes never leaving the book shaped present, and then nodded. She had been intrigued a little by the rice pudding and the almonds, and the promise of a present had been the final push. Denmark for the win!

I returned to the kitchen with a skip in my step for the final preparations. I just hoped I had made enough.

I had definitely made enough.

It was when I placed the pudding on the makeshift table in the living room that the sheer scale of it finally hit me. It was a vat, a tub, a barrel of pudding. I wasn’t sure if I had gone a little overboard. 

The look in Leonie’s eyes told me that I had. It wasn’t quite the look of excitement that I had been hoping for, more one of… disbelief? Like when one prepares themselves to tackle a slug in the garden and then finds a dragon waiting for them.

‘You first, Leonie. Take a portion from wherever you think it might be…’

I thought that there was a chance that she might run away. That it might seem like too much. I had given her more of a challenge then I had planned. But then she picked up her spoon! I couldn’t believe it. Was the yummy yummy Danish food really bringing back her appetite? Was the promise of a present tempting her to dig in? Maybe there really was some kind of magic in this country after all. I was so happy!

She took a spoonful from the far end of the bowl, about five miles away from where I had put the almond.

This was impossible. She was going to need a map.

I needed to help her, I needed to make a dent. She had to find it, otherwise I would never be able to tempt her with anything again.

I scooped myself a portion that could only be described as a mound. I still could not see the lost nut, but this was ok, we could do this. I believed in us. I was pretty sure I’d put it somewhere near the…

‘Why don’t you take some from the middle as well?’ I suggested.

She did so, not going overboard, just an extra little spoonful, but it was enough to make me so happy! I decided that from that point on all food would come with presents. The Danes were geniuses.

‘Let’s keep going!’ I was determined, ecstatic even. Mound after mound I pushed on, making dent after dent, Leonie following with small but calculated spoonfuls. We were going to find this almond. Nothing was going to stop us. Nothing.

………..

Five bowls later and I was well and truly stopped. Danish miracle or not I didn’t think I could go on. Maybe we weren’t going to find it, forever lost, adrift in a sea of rice.

And of course, in true Hollywood fashion, it was at that moment, when I had almost given up hope, that I saw him. Almond Man. Brave Almond Man. Sticking out with a little hand waving at me, crying out to me – ‘Here I am! Save me! Save me!’

I grabbed Leonie by the shoulders and stared deep into the centre of the pudding’s abyss.

‘Mum?’ she asked, I did not respond. My non-wavering, wide-eyed stare directing her attention until she finally saw the light. I was determined that she be the one to find him, save him. She grabbed almond man by his waving almond hand and pulled him up for air.

All three of us took deep breaths. We had all made it out alive.

And now…

It was time for the most glorious thing of all.

The reward. A little something for the hero, the rescuer of the day.

It was book-shaped present time.

I found the energy to move my body that was now 70% Risalamande and passed her the well-deserved gift.

She began to tear at the paper. I knew which book she wanted. The new release by her favourite author had been out for a month, what else would she want? I was excited, I really was…

…because in my Risalamande haze, I had forgotten what I had done.

What greeted her as she unwrapped the parcel was a book shaped box, just weighted enough to feel convincingly book-like, on which was written, ‘your prize…more Risalamande!’

I had tried to be funny. It was on that day that I remembered that I wasn’t funny.

I saw her face turn a shade I had not seen before. It was almost a ‘Quintessential Blue’ on the Dulux colour chart.

I had just wanted my daughter to eat. I had needed a back up plan in case it hadn’t gone well. But she had already eaten a whole bowl, and for her, at the moment, that was a lot. And I was so proud of her.

As she picked up her spoon to take another bite, despite her clearly not wanting anymore, I suddenly felt an awful feeling churn inside me. Had she kept eating because her appetite had returned by some Danish Christmas miracle? Or simply because I had been telling her to? I really didn’t know, but I didn’t like this feeling. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight, ‘you don’t have to eat anymore if you don’t want to sweetheart,’ I said, ‘I was just being silly’.

She put the spoon down and gradually returned to a shade of ‘Soft Peach’ which made me feel a little better. I walked over, stroked her head and kissed her on the forehead.

………

In the end I was too full to open any Danish presents around the Danish tree, I couldn’t do any Danish dancing or Danish singing. I went to bed with Danish indigestion. 

Before I collapsed into bed, I used my last ounce of strength to peer into her room, rice pudding slopping around inside me with every step. As she lay in bed, she felt something strange under her pillow. She looked under it and pulled out a second book shaped present.

She sat up, unwrapped it and immediately began reading. I knew I should tell her to get some sleep and rest. Instead I blew her a kiss and turned on the light so that she could see better.

I closed the door, set up my sofa bed in the living room, and positioned myself in a way that put no pressure on my stomach. The events of the evening were still playing on my mind, I didn’t know how I felt about it all. But I fell asleep focussed on the wonderful image of her engrossed in her book, hoping that I had at least done one thing right that evening, and that I would be rewarded the next morning by Santa bringing me an orange and some Pepto-Bismol.