BACK IN THE DAYS every summer I used to work in this warehouse. It was put up by Denofa Lilleborg and was the first of its kind in Norway. "High warehous" it was called, with state of the art technology. For reasons not for me to tell, the warehouse had a short existence. Built late in the 70-ties, and lasted for 20, 25 years. Abandoned and left empty for decades until Oslo Kommune bought it for a rip off price at 425 millions NOK. Just to demolish it. Pure vandalism. If it wasn´t for the graffiti artists who made it a favourite canvas it would have been a ghost house, in the midst of a very popular path at Akerselva.

Just before the demolishing startet, I begged the demolishers to allow me inside. Very nice guys, top notch in their profession.

When inside, I imediately recognized all part of this warehouse, and as the memories came back to me, it was filled with voices, busy squeeking from the rubber wheels, and this particular high pitch sound when the fork lift drops down a pallet. On my retina I could see a busy foreman Pedersen, a stout chubby middle aged man, a no smiling man with new orders in his right hand, picked up from the office, where Mr Linna sometimes came as a tail behind him. At the mezzanine I said hellom to Mrs Engh, the only woman working full time. Thorgersen was at the wrapping station, a social democrat to his neck, with wit and humor. Danielsen too, this tiny danish guy who could have been one of my professors at that time. At the coffee table, there was the daughter of the CEO, Miss Blom, a curiosity to see at the floor. Those were the days. When directors sent their kids to learn respect and learn where David bought his beer.

 

​