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 of the happiest 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 New Plan

Helen, Mother

Since moving here, the goal has, and always will be, for Denmark and its influence to make Leonie happy. But it has been established that this hasn’t been working because I was getting in Denmark’s way, I was messing things up, or ‘Helening’.

A term that I agree with but hope doesn’t catch on for my fellow namesakes.

And so, I had decided that a new plan was needed.

And so, I had started trying to figure out what exactly that would be.

And so, I had been looking at the one time something that I tried had actually worked.

When she started school I had arranged for Leonie to be paired up with a lovely Danish girl called Anja, in what I have very groundedly and modestly decided to call, ‘The Super Effective Find Leonie A Danish Best Friend For Life Initiative’.

Not long after, she stayed at home for few days, but now, she has found new strength, and ventures to her Education Palace often! The reason is clear! Why else would this have happened to her if it wasn’t for the influence of a Dane? Their friendship must have blossomed on that first day back!

She doesn’t mention Anja, but I think it is the true friendships that really go unspoken.

So, I have been analysing every nook and cranny of this idea, and have concluded that in this scenario I played a very director like role. Working from behind the scenes, constructing the plan, setting it free and letting it grow.

Three key steps had been followed: construct, step back, observe.

And lo, the new plan was born, and a mantra to go along with it. I was to be an organiser, a setter-upper, an onlooker, creating situations for my Leonie involving Denmark and the Danish people, stepping back and just letting Denmark and the Danes do their thing. The risk of ‘Helening’ greatly reduced.

It was fool proof, bullet proof and Helen proof.

There was only one thing getting in the way, and that was Leonie herself.

She had been going to school again… and that was great. We had been out to celebrate with ice cream and pretzel times…and that was great. But I had realised that Leonie didn’t go out if it wasn’t for school or me dragging her by the metaphorical ear….

…and that was not so great.

I would say that it even went beyond a lack of motivation to outright avoidance.

And so, I planned that my first plan of the new plan would take place in our very own flat. I would increase the Danish influence within the home itself and wait for the happiness osmosis to begin.

With the help of one of the Dane’s best friends: Interior Design.

I am not an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I decided to start small and build up. Or rather, start up and work down.

With lighting.

A couple of days ago, our neighbours had invited me round for lunch and that was where I saw it. It was love at first sight. Hanging low from the ceiling, in the centre of the table, not far from the surface. The decapitated head of a desk lamp hung up for display. A pendant light. The perfect hanging length for each individual was clearly something that needed a lot of fine tuning. I remember it vividly because I repeatedly hit my head on it.

I did not return home after that visit, turning the opposite way out of their house towards the shops, two immediate goals in mind: the first, buying some cream to soothe the bruise on my forehead; the second, a homeware store. I wondered if it was a coincidence that they were next door to each other, if Danish related lighting head injuries were common, that perfect hanging length the ultimate goal.

The salesperson had asked me what cable length I wanted. I wanted a long cable. Size isn’t everything, but I wanted a long cable. I had such a clear vision in my mind. A clear, unmuddled, simple vision: I wanted to do the super cool Danish-hangy-cable-wound-around-the-lots-of-little-hooks-thingy.

It was how they were hung in the shop, it was how it was hung at my neighbour’s, it was how it would be hung here. Denmark, thou hast demanded and I shalt provide.

It’s simple. You get a longer cable, hang some hooks from the ceiling, and get the right length by gathering the wire around the hooks in a super arty way.

It’s super arty, super trendy, super Danishy and, most importantly, a perfect Danish activity for Leonie. My little arty Leonie.

The more cable, the more activity, the more arty, the more trendy, the more Danishy. It’s perfect. Unless it’s so long that the lamp touches the floor when installed.

Our lamp touched the floor when it was installed.

Surrounded by a large amount of excess cable.

The nice electrician lady gave me a smile as she left. An encouraging and yet concerned smile.

But it takes a lot to deter me.

I think more cable just means more fun.

I looked over at Leonie who was sat in her usual corner with her usual book. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if she was actually reading or just staring into space. Her home life these days either spent in bed, or in that corner. Book accessory optional.

There had been improvement, she was going to school… on most days. But I wasn’t sure exactly how well it was going. Was she just going through the motions? She seemed in a permanent state of zombification.

But today was going to be different.

I was going to get her to do this little activity that I had organised for her.

‘Any ideas?’ I asked, trying to entice her over, gesturing to the fun arty time that could be all hers for less than £9.99 a month.

‘Come on, you’ve got an eye for this kind of thing. Where do you think it should go?’ I continued my sales pitch.

She looked at me for a moment and considered it, then pointed to the ceiling.

‘Up’, she mumbled.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I loved her.

‘Come on, why don’t you come see what you can do with it?’, I asked. I didn’t like to just tell her what to do, but I was running out of options, and to be honest, getting a little frustrated.

And then we shared a rare moment where she said something longer than a couple of words.

‘I’d just mess it up’, she mumbled. Not many more words, but those words felt heavy. Mess it up? Surely not. If anything it’s more likely to get messed up if she doesn’t get involved! Surely she wasn’t going to leave this with me!

This was not going according to the new plan. I wanted to give her the activity, step back and just let things happen.

It was ok, it would be ok. I could simply start the project, show her how great it was, and try and encourage her to take over. I could trust myself to do that much, surely.

I still didn’t want to leave too much to myself, the chance of ‘Helening’ too great, and so sought some external Danish advice.

I decided to ring Mirva.

Well, not specifically Mirva. She is married to a Danish man, and he seems like easy, instant access to a Danish person. He is the pot noodle of Danes.

Mirva answered. She said her husband wasn’t available.

I immediately put down the phone.

Maybe I could get some advice from my neighbours? But I knew that as soon as I left the house Leonie would migrate into her room and that would be that. The hibernation would commence and no amount of lamp/wire related excitement would lure her out.

I knew it was dangerous to start it just myself, but I was running out of options. I had seen it in the shop, I had seen it at my neighbours, the external Danish influence was there, running through me, I would simply be its puppet. I could do this.

And Leonie would join in. Surely.

I just had to keep it simple. Not make it too complicated. Thread it through a bit at a time and make a sort of… tangled pattern?

Just a little bit here and a little bit there.

I didn’t know if I was creating more of a knot than a fashionable tangle. I had given myself a lot of length to play with but it was proving difficult to really tame the beast.

I held the lamp up to the height I wanted. The bruise on my head reminding me to get that perfect hanging length.

From one hook to another, I passed the wire round the back of me, round the front of me, a little hook here, a little hook there.

I kept looking over at Leonie. Surely at some point she would be greatly impressed and excited by what was happening and waddle on over and help.

But…to be honest…

I felt like I was starting to get it. Maybe this was going to be ok with me in the driving seat after all? Perhaps there was no need for the new plan? Was the curse broken? I really was surprisingly pleased with myself. The time had come to take a step back and have a look at how my handy work was going.

My hard work which was worth taking a moment to admire.

I just had to step back and…

But I could not step back.

I had gotten too excited. The cable had gone here, there and everywhere. Well and truly tangled around my arms, my waist, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. I was one with the pendant light. In a previous life I was clearly a person of the sea, an expert in sailors’ knots.

It was happening, things were starting to go south. This was not good.

I looked pleadingly over at Leonie. I really needed her to come and start getting involved so I could step back and start putting this new plan in motion. My directors chair was calling me, but my leading lady still AWOL.

I was about to have one last hopeless attempt at calling her over,

when then the phone started to ring.

Thank goodness! Sweet salvation! It would be my brother in law calling back! A Dane was going to intervene. He would tell me what to do, fix everything and save the day. I would start following his marvellous instructions, Leonie would be enticed over, the plan would be saved!

However…

‘Leonie, could you…’ 

I needed help.

I was well and truly stuck.

I watched her get up and slowly walk over to the phone, deciding to leave her mother a tangled mess. She pressed the button to answer the call and put it on speaker phone. Then returned to her corner. Not a word spoken.

‘Hello? Helen? You’re there aren’t you? I can hear you grunting’, a blunt and painfully familiar voice came from the phone.

Oh my dear sister, how unpleasant it was to hear from you again. You would be grunting too if you had found yourself trapped in the web of a pendant lamp.

‘Is that husband of yours around? Is that why you’re calling back? Because he’s around and you called to pass the phone over to him’, please oh please oh please I begged.

‘No’ she replied.

Followed by a silence.

I would have just hung up again were it not for the entanglement.

‘I had to ring back and find out what you were doing. I’ve been having a few guesses. It’s something that clearly requires the help of my husband and not me, yes?’ she asked. Blunt and to the point like the sister I have always known.

‘It’s nothing important, I’m just adjusting a pendant light, so I’ll figure it out, thank you’, another point at which I would have loved to hang up. I looked over to Leonie to encourage her to do so, but her head was already back in the book and making eye contact was a service that was currently unavailable.

This new plan was not going to plan!

‘You do have a history with lighting mishaps,’ Mirva was still there, still talking… ‘you and lighting just don’t seem to mix do you’, still there, still talking…

‘it’s like when you were obsessed with finding the perfect bedroom lamp for Jacob. You remember?’

…

She asked.

She remarked.

So flippantly.

And off-handedly.

For the first time in a long time I felt a knot that tightened in my stomach tighter than any of the cable knots I was tangled up in.

Oh…

I felt dizzy.

There was a real fear that if I stepped off the chair I was standing on the ground might just swallow me whole.

My vision went hazy, and I thought I saw Leonie suddenly stand up and hurry towards me, stop in front of me, look up… and smile.

‘We’re just trying to arrange the cable through some hooks, aren’t we mum?’, she asked. Her voice upbeat, but breaking a little at the end. Not much, but I heard it.

My jaw hurt, my throat hurt. Everything was knotted and hurt. The pain of holding it in. Keeping it together. Mentally and physically tangled up and left out to dry.

‘Oh, a very traditional Danish way of doing it. Of course, you’d go that way. You can’t figure it out I’m guessing?’ Mirva asked.

‘We’ll figure it out together, won’t we?’ Leonie asked, still looking up at me, still smiling. I just focussed on that smile, I couldn’t bring myself to look at her eyes, to see how far the smile really travelled.

I wanted to hug her.

‘Mum?’ she asked again.

She was being strong for me.

This was not right, I was the parent. I had to get it together.

‘You want to help me?’ I asked her.

‘Of course,’ she said.

Still smiling.

……

When we sat down to dinner that night, I reflected on the perfect afternoon that we had spent together. The perfect time spent between mother and daughter.

I took a moment to look at the room around me. The perfectly set table, the empty plates of the perfect meal we had enjoyed, my daughter looking up at me with the perfect smile on her face. The picture-perfect image of the perfect happy family.

I stared at the newly installed pendant light that hung above us and stood up to clear away…

…but I didn’t hit my head on it.

The perfect scene that we had created was just a little off.