Day:265, Words:265

The youth of Øksfjord have been having some old fashioned fun over the past week. The game of Knick Knocking is universal and has been passed down the generations. The rules are simple. Go to a door, knock on it and run away as fast as you can so that when the occupants open the door, there is nobody there to greet them.

The first seven times can be slightly amusing, yet the teenagers believe that it can only be more and more entertaining, which also equals the rate of annoyance from baffled residents. While usually the game proves most effective when operating in groups of two or three in an area where you are relatively unknown, the Øksfjord version sees large groups of kids knocking on a door and then escaping clumsily in a neighbourhood where everyone knows your name, clothes and shoe size.

Recently the action has been constant, causing some of the more mature Øksfjordians to be a little on the miffed side. Their counter attack may be to either ignore all knocks at the door or to stand next to the door, hoping to suprise the offenders and perhaps even grab a handful of jumper. One middle aged lady camped out for over an hour, before the knocks came. She flung the door open, ready to strike, while making a sort of 'got you' type of noise. Standing in front of her was not an embarrassed teenager, but rather a confused and slightly scared vacuum cleaner salesman. Mind you, what the heck is a travelling vacuum salesman doing in these parts?

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