144 hours, and my pee goes orange.
Breakfast: Cheese & pickle sandwich, chocolate croissant and mango smoothie from Pret a Manger, Stansted Airport.
Lunch: Not wishing to pay about nine million pounds for a cardboard sandwich that looks like the remnants of an ill-judged autopsy, I decline the cuisine on offer from Ryanair and settle for a late snack at my hotel – the apple that’s been left on my pillow, and a bar of Kvikk Lunsj, the Norse Kit Kat.
Dinner: Pizza. My friend Anja, who I’ve known for close to a decade but only just met, takes me to a pizza joint. My pizza features many aubergines, and lots of olives. I like pizza. After dinner it’s off to a cheap (by Oslo standards – the booze is only Â£4 a pint) bar on Grønland for multiple lagers, where the jukebox alternates between Metallica, Pink Floyd, and Norway’s infamous Eurovision ‘nul points’ entry from Jahn Teigen, and the drinkers sing along to each with equal gusto.
Then it’s quick midnight whizz round the new Opera House, which may well be the most beautiful modern building I’ve ever had the privilege of walking onto the roof of, before retiring for the night.
And when I wake up, my pee is a vivid orange. I blame the aubergines.