Ostrobothnia

One day I will go to Northern Ostrobothnia,
And celebrate the feast of St Jude,
The patron saint of lost causes.
I found it on a map of Finnish administrative authorities,
And clearly it was love at first sight,
For there are no Finnish administrative authorities
Quite so lovely to my eye.

I said to my friend,
‘One day I will go to Northern Ostrobothnia,’
And he concurred, considering it to be
A highly sensible policy.
We planned a route, and then hypothesised
That the journey should be undertaken by Volvo,
Being the nearest thing to an indigenous Finnish vehicle,
And hence adapted for the challenges posed
By the landscape of Northern Ostrobothnia,
Such as snow, and musk-ox stampede.

The endeavour began in earnest.
I studied a map of Northern Ostrobothnia
Ordered online from the Suomi Land Survey.
I ranged over marsh, over taiga, over tundra,
And placed an ‘X’ on every spot
I sighted black bear.
I went to the Asda fishcounter and bought a trout
And in my kitchen dished the fish that I had fished
From the waters of Northern Ostrobothnia,
Imagining it to be an Arctic Char,
Because that is the predominant freshwater pescatory species
Of Northern Ostrobothnia.

I said to my girlfriend,
‘One day I will go to Northern Ostrobothnia,’
And she immediately became concerned.
She pointed out the enormous expense,
The likely clashes with work,
The clear and present dangers of the wilderness,
And the fact that I had promised to take her camping in Devon.
She did not see, she could not see
That I had quested over Northern Ostrobothnia
For weeks on end, and my total running outlay summed
Some 7 euros, £1.98 at Asda and around a tenner in beer.
I realised I had made a diplomatic error,
And resolved never to buy the Volvo,
But I will go to Northern Ostrobothnia
Before the year is out, unless I don’t,
But I won’t don’t – which is to say, yes,
I will go there one day,
But not before I finish dreaming it.