Ulf

Han sidder der næsten hver dag, udenfor Monnis kiosk på Istedgade. Nyder sin formiddagsbajer og kigger på livet, der pulserer omkring ham. Han hedder Ulf og bor på den anden side af gaden, på plejehjemmet. “Men der er for kedeligt”, siger han, “der er ikke nogen at snakke med”. I stedet for at sidde med de “gamle", sidder han der, udenfor butiksdøren, på en stol, som Monni sætter ud til ham.

Der kan gå flere dage mellem jeg ser Ulf. Nogle dage er jeg for sent ude, nogle dage går min vej ikke forbi kiosken. Men når jeg ser ham, hilser vi og sommetider får vi en sludder. Ulf er nemlig altid god for en sludder. Lidt forsigtigt indledte jeg mine snakke med ham. Nogle dage er det bare”Hej Ulf” og “Hej Kathe”, siden jeg præsenterede mig med navn, har han altid husket det. Andre dage får jeg lidt mere at vide. Fx ved jeg nu, at Ulf er 71 år og at hans knæ er så ødelagte, at han ikke kunne blive boende i sin lejlighed på Nørrebro. Jeg ved også, at han har været hestesmed. En dag så jeg, at han mangler det meste af en finger på højre hånd. “Hvordan gik det til?” “Ja, det var en hest, der trådte den af”. Let skeptisk sagde jeg: “En hest? Du sagde jo, du boede på Nørrebro”. Og det var der, jeg fik historien om hans arbejde og hans finger. Hans firma skoede bla. heste på Galopbanen. Før hvert løb satte de aluminiumssko på hestene: “Så kunne de løbe en hestelængde hurtigere”. Efter hvert løb skulle de så igen igang med at skifte sko. Der skulle spares på aluminiumsskoene, de var slidt efter kun to løb. Og ja, det var der fingeren røg...

Life and everyday on Vesterbro in Copenhagen

 

For family and friends abroad

He sits there almost every day, outside Monnis kiosk on Istedgade. Enjoying his morning beer and watching the life that pulsates around him. He is called Ulf and lives in the nursing home on the other side of the street. "But that is too boring," he says, "there is no one to talk to." Instead of sitting with the "oldies", he sits there, outside the shop door, on a chair that Monni puts out for him.

There can go several days between when I see Ulf. Some days I come too late, some days I do not go past the kiosk. But when I see him, we greet each other and sometimes have a chat. Ulf is in fact always good for a chat. A little carefully, I began chatting with him. Some days it's just "Hello Ulf" and "Hello Kathe", since I introduced myself by name, he always remembers it. Other days I get to know a little more. For example, I now know that Ulf is 71 years old and that his knees are so damaged, that he could not remain in his own flat. I also know now, that he has been a "horse black smith". One day I saw that he lacked most of a finger on his right hand. "How did that happen?" "Yes, it was a horse that tramped on it." Slightly sceptical I said: "A horse? You said you lived in Nørrebro". And it was there, I got the story about his work and his finger. His company, amongst other things, shod horses at the nearby race course. Before each race they put aluminium horseshoes on the horses: "Then they could run a horse-length faster". After each race they had to re-shoe all the horses, as the aluminum shoes were worn out after only two races. And yes, that was when he lost his finger ...