In Denmark

Not so briskly back to Copenhagen.

We popped back to the hotel around Saturday lunchtime, and after a bit of prompting, I'm reminded that this was to change rooms. Yes, our room was fantastic but it was only on the second floor and it turned out that the thumping bass from the Friday evening club a couple of floors below was not conducive to restful sleep patterns. Didn't bother me because the flight had turned me deaf in my right ear, so all I had to do was turn onto my left side and I couldn't hear a thing, but gal wasn't best pleased.

Anyway, so we'd complained that morning, and although the concierge said that the club was 'part of the culture of the hotel' he advised us to come back at noon and he'd have a new room for us. When we got back, with a few more bags of shopping, his spiky hairdo was a little limper than it had been first thing but true to his word, he'd found us a room on the fifth floor.

First impressions - it was smaller, particularly the bathroom. And it was yellow instead of red. But, first impressions can be misleading. As we were now on the outside of the building it had a window that opened onto the city - meaning we had great views of the city below and we didn't have to leave the aircon going all day and all night. On balance, I'd have to say that the spiky haired chap saw us right and if I could remember his name, I'd acknowledge it here.

Our thoughts quickly turned to food, and we fancied the sound of a nice rooftop cafe on top of the Postal Museum. Gal frowned at my suggestion that we look at the Museum, so we caught the lift straight up to the rooftop cafe where I had a very Danish Burger and chips whilst she had a very confusing meal involving Bresola. We stopped long enough to take some more piccies of the Danish rooftops before popping over the road to the Museum of Erotica.

When we paid our entrance fee, they asked us for our starsigns and gave us little brochures with our sexual horoscope in them. I'm as sceptical as sceptics come, but my brochure said that I'm a 'wonderful, affectionate and considerate lover' before summing up with 'He is a wonderful man' so I decided that horoscopes are really rather good after all. Apparently, gal is 'a special kind of woman to whom quality is everything' and ' a unique mistress so enjoy her if she lets you into her rare and fine universe'.

I thought it a very strange museum. There were lots of rude pics and models dating back to the year dot, but the labelling and cataloguing seemed a bit scattershot, and of course, when you're looking at very old pictures of people in improbable positions, the most important thing to know is where that picture came from. They had a couple of improbably life sized tableau acting out scenes from great erotic literature, particularly memorable being a rather graphic Fanny Hill. Towards the end of the tour was the Shock Room with some very strange porn on display, and just after this was a video wall, with twelve monitors showing various porn videos (all available from the museum shop). Paris Hilton's video appeared to benefit immensely from the pop music soundtrack provided by the adjacent TV running MTV.

Back to the hotel for a bit more lazing around before another guidebook inspired restaurant, the amusingly named Pasta Basta. Despite them taking forever and a day to deliver our main courses and them continually forgetting that we were English, I quite liked this restaurant. We missed a trick apparently by not electing for the pasta buffet, but it made our main courses all the finer when they eventually turned up.

Here's a picture of some soldiers.

Sunny Sunday morning and we popped next door to Cafe Blanc for a quick coffee before our morning expedition. The waitress patiently wrote down our order before saying 'Thats the same as you had yesterday'. We could have just asked for the usual !

Anyway, today we ended to go up that spirally church tower that was in one of the other photos. Apparently, it was up 400 steps, 150 of them on the outside of the tower, and the architect (early urban myth alert) threw himself off of the top when he realised that the spiral went round the wrong way. The interior staircase reminded me of the one from Vertigo, lots of rickety wooden stairs, some of them narrow, some of them not. There were lots of people climbing and down, so on our ascent we had to keep making way for people in the opposite direction. Eventually however, we clambered out into the open air where were buffeted by the breeze but had a great view across the city.

The stair case around the tower had a metal handrailing and metal steps, worn smooth by the thousands of people that had climbed them before. The steps started off wider than the wooden one but as you got towards the top they started to narrow quite dramatically, and as the wind knocked you about, the knowledge that you were really rather exposed was a little scary.

Here's a pic.

Gal got higher than me, but had a sudden attack of awareness and I had to coax her back down again. I think our descent down the tower was probably a lot quicker than the climb.

We visited the hippy enclave over the way, Christiania, but, although it was a dramatic difference to the rest of the city, it was quite dreary, so we nipped back to the bakers, brought some bread and a Danish, and sat on the edge of the canal feeding the ducks.

We were winding down. You know how you come to the end of a holiday and you don't want it to end? Sunday was like that. Instead of catching the train back to the city centre, we walked up the canal and strolled hand-in-hand over the bridges linking us back to the mainland.

Onwards to the airport, and to the steak restaurant, and to the moany gits on the plane, and I feel like I've probably bored you all enough.

Had a wonderful time. It really was a lovely city and I had a wonderful person to share it with, and if we could do it all again tomorrow, I'd jump at the chance.