January 15th 2014

I have Viking blood coursing through my veins, tough northern blood capable of felling a moose with a single blow. Or at least that's what I try and convince myself of when I stub my toe and squeal like a piglet. From childhood I've been fascinated by my Norwegian and Swedish ancestry, and it is not ancient history as my grandfather was called the wonderful Harald Eugen Oscar Johnson. Although born in South Shields in what was then County Durham, his parents were from Norway (with Swedish ancestry) and settled in England as economic migrants in the late 19th Century. For years we believed the name Johnson was anglicised from the original Johansen, however a bit of digging by another member of the family uncovered Johansen-Berg as the original name. I need to do some digging myself I think. But this fascination with my Scandinavian roots (and my manic gloomy persona) has been with me as long as I care to remember. Recently I stumbled across the 'Orkneyinga Saga' and not knowing anything about it have bought the book. I'm just about to read it and the 300 year old history of the Kings of Orkney around 900-1300 AD, when Orkney was economically, politically and culturally closer to Norway than Scotland. I feel a visit coming on especially when I've read about Thorfinn Skull-Splitter in the introduction. I bet he could fell a moose with one blow too!