Sunday, October 25, 2009

. . .Still in Sweden

I was going to write ‘after the party’ but there was no ‘after’. It was still going strong when Sue and I left with Per at around 5am and we dossed at his place. We all kind of surfaced at midday and judging by their beige faces and pissholes-in-the-snow eyes, the other two were feeling as grim as me. Per took us out for brunch. Chitchat was non-existent until the coffee and croissants had kicked in. Then Per suddenly got enthusiastic about us driving out to a forest only twenty minutes from Stockholm to visit a friend of his. Sue said “Beautiful” in this dreamy, let’s-see-where-it-goes way she has but I was thinking mud, midges and fir trees. I mean, I can only take so many fir trees, know what I mean?
Mikael, this mate of Per’s, lives in a log cabin. He was prickly first off because we’d turned up without warning, but he was OK when Per gave him a bottle of Campofiorin Masi and he offered to cook us spaghetti. He turned out to be a really cool guy. They both are. Mikael took a shine to our red wheels. So we did a deal: our wheels for his ice silver BMW plus a dozen bottles of Prosecco and another of Cointreau thrown in. He’d had a lot of wine by then. We all had. It was hugs all round from Per. And then some. That Per likes his hugs.

Sue and I headed off the next morning, no destination in mind. My turn to drive. I glanced across at Sue. Her skin was gleaming gold and she had a secret smile on her face. I said: “Hey, is that a man’s shirt you’re wearing?” Answer: “Oh… I guess.” She can be so deliberately vague when she wants to be.
Photos courtesy of Connie Lundren, Eva the Weaver and Social is Better.


Grey skies and contrasts of light
And water, water everywhere
The sea, a song and lingering nights
A smile yearning to appear

The man from the north looked into my eyes
Reflected in his were signs of life
Captured deep beneath the ice

In his hands he held my heart
And in a storm he disappeared

[you can listen to the song here]

Photo courtesy of S. Alt