Running man

Thursday is my sauna day. When I was still living in Finland, also Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday were my sauna days, but that was then and this is now. I don't actually live very far from my sauna, and were the East London line not closed due to 2012 related redevelopments I could cross the river via the Wapping station and get there in less than 15 minutes. Since that way is blocked, I usually go by running, crossing the Tower Bridge and then fighting my way through the shady streets of Bermondsey. (To be honest, there is only one street and it's well-lit, but that's not my point now. As Bruce told us in the pub a couple of weeks ago, pointing to the southern shores of Thames: "Different side, different people.")

It's a run that gives you a proper sweat, though not much more; the journey ends always a kilometer or two too soon. So this time I took a different approach and a long way round, running here and there and trying to tire myself as severely as possible before arriving at the church - because that is exactly how you can make most out of your weekly sauna - and finishing with a hard spurt. I'm not your most athletic type north of Thames, so it was certainly enough for me. The weather was adequately crap too, and you can only guess how great is the feeling when you are nearly there, soakingly wet because of both sweat and rain, and mentally prepared for an hour and half of the heat of sauna.

No deal. The guy in the reception told that the sauna is closed for this and next week, for the church is having their annual Easter bazaar. My fatigue didn't allow me to listen to him and learn how a Finnish Easter bazaar can prevent them from heating up their sauna, although I assume they have a reason for their decision - the whole concept and tradition of seamen's church indeed somehow assures you on that you can trust these guys. Whatever is your take on religion and the Church in general, you just count on them; these churches will always be there for you. If I were lost, in a great difficulty and lands afar, I personally would rather turn to the local maritime church than Ilkka Kanerva's foreign service. (Which might prove an admittedly reckless policy when travelling in landlocked countries.)

However, tired and disillusioned, my immediate reaction was slightly more mundane. Deep inside me, I wanted to rush further, push one of the bazaar tables over and loudly express my anger over the fact that this sauna of mine, which will be called a sauna for all nations, had been made a den of vendors, thieves, yet then - very soon actually - came to my more sophisticated senses and acknowledged that when all circumstances are thoroughly considered, such - no matter how ironic as a situation - would be rather inappropriate. So I ran back home, stopping at an off-license to buy a can of Stella, and took a shower. If nothing unexpected happens, will Thursday the 27th be my next sauna day.