A Retired House Husband in Sweden

Yesterday, or the day before, Mirinda asked me if I could build a little raised bed between the two raised beds outside her study window. When we originally set them up, we left a gap between them. I say ‘we’ but, of course, all gardening decisions rest not on my shoulders.

So, in this gap, there grows grass and other things that defy description apart from being vaguely something natural which, given the gap is bordered either side by boards, makes it difficult to mow. Which is why Mirinda asked me to put a bed between the beds.

Given I do the mowing, this made me quite happy, so I was prepared to do it today. But the weather gods conspired to turn their considerable powers against me. Rain, sun, rain, rain, rain, torrential rain, sun, rain…and repeat. That was how it went today.

It was so wet that when Mathilde returned from walking Emma, the two of them needed a jolly good wringing out. I offered Mathilde a towel, but she said she was fine creating puddles in her car. It took a while to return Emma to being dry so I can only imagine what her car was like.

Anyway, the upshot of the day was that there was nothing accomplished in the raised bed stakes. Or much else, really.

However, during one of the rare moments of sunshine, we managed to pile up a load of rubbish and pile it into Harald’s car and trailer for disposal at the dump. And the sun (or, rather, non-rain) lasted until Harald and Mirinda returned from said disposal. The Great Wet started in again as Mirinda walked back down the drive.

So, a pretty miserable day all round, actually.

Oh, and here’s the raised beds, filled with floral displays by Mirinda and now waiting for Gary to complete.

You can see where Mirinda had to trim the grass with big hedge trimmers. It’ll be much better when there’s a bed in the middle. Also, the photo was taken yesterday which explains why there are no puddles.

Nicoline can stop reading now

In World Cup news, I managed to drag myself out of bed at 3am and made my way to the stuga to watch the Sweden v Tunisia game. In glorious manner, the Swedes annihilated Tunisia 5-1. It was a great result, with some amazing goals. Well worth the lack of sleep.

A few days ago, trying to recover from not having people over for a French meal, I decided to cook saffron lamb shanks for dinner and invite Nicoline over to enjoy them with us. It was no coincidence that it coincided with her giving me her edits and critiques on the 2nd draft of my book. Then, late in the afternoon, Mirinda asked Louise to join us. We made a raucous foursome.

But first, I had to visit the ICA for supplies.

There was a hint of rain in the air as I dragged my trolley towards the mini putt putt. Obviously I stopped off for the obligatory photo.

Each week it inches ever closer to completion.

At the ICA I had the unexpected pleasure of being served at the check-out by Emelie. I asked her what she was doing for Midsummer and she told me she is spending it with a friend at her family’s summer stuga. That sounds like a good old, early 20’s piss up to me. She is normally pretty tired on a Sunday so I said that I hoped she had next Sunday off.

Mind you, she regularly looks pretty wiped out on a Sunday and today was no exception. She had visited her aunt last night, she said. Clearly her aunt is a bit of a rager.

After a little chat, affording her the opportunity to practice her English, I headed home, exchanging greetings with all and sundry. Sunday morning folk are always the friendliest of the week.

The rest of the day was spent, basically, in prep while Mirinda worked on her raised beds and Zoomed with Lisa for a bit. She is planning to meet up with Lisa and Jack in Copenhagen in a few weeks so there was a bit of excited planning going on.

But then, eventually, it was time for Nicoline to arrive and pick my book to pieces. Actually, her edits and thoughts were all gratefully received. I didn’t agree with ALL of them but the vast majority will go into the third (and hopefully, final) draft.

A little later, Louise was convinced to read my book over the summer. It will be number three in her summer reading list. Along with a book on classroom management and the hundredth reading of Harry Potter, my book may provide something of a diversion, if a somewhat circuitous one.

Speaking of Louise, I noticed on the way to the shops that a white van with a name on the side was parked in her driveway. It was still there when I returned. I was sitting having a coffee with Mirinda (in the glass room because it was too weather risky on the deck) when the van backed out for the morning drive of shame.

Obviously I cannot supply names or comment any further.

Anyway, everyone seemed to enjoy dinner (scallops to start, lamb shanks for main and strawberries in a pistachio cream for dessert) and the chat was a delight.

Louise was threatened with becoming a place mat after the photo was taken. I threatened her with an invitation to the often cancelled French dinner night as well. Of course, no-one knows when that might be.

The big Lion’s Club Trosa Market was on today. The weather was not forecast to be very good. In fact, rain was predicted for, firstly, the whole day then amended to the afternoon. As it turned out, it didn’t rain beyond about fifteen light drops. And they fell on our deck. The weather may have played a small part in our not going to the market this year, but it was minor compared to my desire to do nothing today.

I was not alone in wanting an easy day. Mirinda, too, felt she still needed to recover from her intensive bout of essay writing over the last few weeks and, of course, the cold I passed on to her.

And so, we basically lounged about the house. I did some scanning and, of course, cooked while Mirinda pottered around and watched The Hobbit. It is her intention to watch all three Hobbit movies plus The Lord of the Rings trilogy over the summer. Today saw her make a good start.

She did take the girls for a walk in the late afternoon, wearing Freya out a bit.

Speaking of Freya, in the early hours of this morning, she wanted some water then to go to the toilet. I let her out and, after she’d finished, she literally bounded back into the house, performing her distinctive quokka dance in the kitchen as if celebrating her achievement.

I think the antibiotics have kicked in, and she is feeling a lot better. In fact, her loud, familiar snoring has returned. Who would have thought this would be welcomed. We figure it means she is a lot more comfortable, sleeping more soundly.

I don’t know how the market went today but our house was full of lazy, rewarding bliss.

I didn’t take any photos but here’s one from yesterday showing the now, completed pedestrian crossing on the newly asphalted road by the cemetery.

It’s about time. I’ve had to guess where the white stripes were supposed to be since they scrapped the old ones off.

I think we may have discovered what Freya’s problem has been. Today, on the occasion of collecting The Bob and putting it back in the water, she suddenly came alive and happily joined us for a putter around Öbolandet. Okay, she slept for a lot of it but, she was more than happy to come on board and curl up in the dog bed as we hit the sea. Obviously, Emma was happy to join us as well.

So, maybe that was it. Maybe, as Mirinda said, she was just pining for the Baltic.

Then, following our watery jaunt, she happily accompanied us to Mat Studio for a celebratory meal. This, Mirinda declared, will be a new celebration. A way to mark the beginning of our boating season. Not that it was particularly smooth sailing.

Mirinda had organised to pick up The Bob at 2:30pm so we headed out around 2pm, to check that our mooring was still ours before parking outside the boat shed where The Bob has been for the winter. After the boat was floated, we started loading it up with the essentials, leaving the car for later pickup.

Mirinda, being the captain, started The Bob up and, after a few tries, we reversed into the channel. Then the engine cut out. We were afloat on the creek with only one paddle. Yes, we only have one oar on The Bob. I’m not sure why and what happened to the other one but it precedes our ownership.

I managed to grab the bank and after restarting the engine and hearing it hiccough, Mirinda went in search of the guy who serviced the boat, the one who told us the engine had petrol in it.

In the meanwhilst, I was sitting, with the dogs, listening to the engine as it smoothed out and started running normally. As the guy explained, the engine was just cold and would now be no problem. So, with no further ado, we headed out of the harbour and under the road bridge to circumnavigate the island.

I even took a short video.

While the water was a bit choppy, the day was very pleasant and the first boat of the season went very well until it almost ended in tragedy.

Okay, that maybe a bit of an exaggeration but, nearing the Worlds End pier, the engine started making weird, sputtering noises and Mirinda realised we were almost out of petrol. She blamed the guy at the boat yard but, to be fair, he didn’t say the engine was FULL of petrol, he merely said it had petrol in it.

Being the genius she is, Mirinda ascertained that both petrol containers had a few sloshes of petrol left in them so she combined them which gave us just enough to start up again and head for the bowsers in the harbour.

We had to wait for a couple of other boating types to fill up but then headed in, tied up and filled up, grateful we made it. All was good.

It was then just a matter of heading for the dock to once more claim mooring 22, where The Bob could rest up, ready for next time.

After a short rest back at the house we changed and headed out to the restaurant. At first, we thought the dogs would be all ready to spark out, happy to remain asleep while we ate out. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Freya, especially, was eager to join us, trotting confidently out to the car.

They are very well-trained restaurant dogs and were soon asleep on a bench seat, either side of me. They garnered lots of admiration from the other patrons who pretty much filled the outside area of the place.

And, of course, the meal was excellent. I had my usual steak tartare but, rather than following it with fish, I tried the lamb. I am so glad I did. It was easily one of the most succulent lamb dishes I have ever had. Perfection on a plate.

The perfect end to our first day’s boating on the Baltic for 2026.

Today was very long for poor little Freya. We all sat in a consulting room at the pet hospital in Bagarmossen, from 9am until 4pm while she was prodded and poked, her health status discussed by all and sundry, sleeping then waking sporadically. Emma, as if in sympathy, spent most of her time curled up on my lap, and being annoyed when I changed legs.

While our day was very frustrating in terms of diagnosis, the staff we saw (and we saw lots) were all kind, friendly and sympathetic. While we only saw one actual vet, Freya’s condition was discussed with a few others outside the room.

After a long discussion with his colleagues, our vet, Carl, verified that our little monkey is a medical mystery.

Lots of things were ruled out, but we remain as far away from a reason for her illness as we live from Bagarmossen. Eventually, a nurse came in and gave Freya a shot of morphine. It was the happiest she’d been all day. I mean Freya, not the nurse, although she was pretty happy as well.

Actually, the nurse gave us a lesson in genetics when she told us how her red hair was not a result of being Scottish, something she regularly hears, but from the fact that she is Palestinian. Apparently, that is a thing. Though, she stressed, Palestinian redheads have brown eyes rather than blue.

We did manage to escape from the hospital for almost two hours at lunchtime while we waited for the results of blood tests and general discussion regarding Freya’s x-rays. We found Bagarmossen centrum which was surprisingly pleasant with not a lot of cars, a t-bana station and racks for around 50,000 bicycles.

There was also a lovely café where Mirinda practiced her Swedish and discussed, with the owner, how her husband likes his coffee very strong. We sat outside at small continental tables and wicker chairs and enjoyed what little sun there was, Freya nursing her pink bandaged leg from where the nurse took her blood.

It was then, eventually, back to the hospital where we received the frustrating news that there was no news regarding her condition.

The only concrete thing the vet offered was that, possibly, she is suffering from something bacterial caused by a rotting tooth. For that reason he prescribed some antibiotics which we are to try for a week before returning to our local vet for reevaluation.

In the meanwhilst, back at the house, Harald finished the glass room, well pleased with his work. We arrived home just as he was packing up his van. He and Mirinda wandered around the house discussing everything he had accomplished this week in smatterings of English, Swedish and German.

I sat on the deck and threw the ball for Emma which cheered her up a bit. Freya went to sleep in her favourite place, under the dining table, dreaming drugged dreams, sometimes staring into the middle distance, sometimes making weird sounds.

It felt like we were in an opium den in Shanghai about 200 years ago.

No Lukas today but Harald turned up nice and early and started painting. And moving furniture then pulling the disgusting black nylon stupid carpet up off the floor to reveal strips of sticky stuff that were holding it down. Now he needs to work out the best way of getting rid of the strips of gluey residue.

Anyway, this is what it looked like when he went to lunch:

I quite like his artwork on the end wall.

While he was toiling away with his brush, I put a shelf up in my skafferi. Mirinda said I needed it for the mugs. It took me about half an hour and now the mugs are on it. The shelf that the mugs were on previously is now bare.

I’m not sure what is going onto the bare shelf now the mugs are no longer there. Currently, Mirinda is extremely busy finishing her latest essay for uni but as soon as she’s finished (at 23:59 tonight), she’ll let me know. I’m sure.

There is also the fact that she is still fighting the bug I passed on to her. She told Harald that I picked it up on a German train. He nodded with understanding and commiseration.

By the end of the day, the glassroom was looking like this:

Sad to see that he had painted over his artwork on the end wall.

Earlier in the day, in preparation for me watching a bit of football, I mentioned to Mirinda that because the World Cup was about to start I would want to see games with Australia, England and, of course, Sweden playing in them. She looked all quizzical and said “It is?” For that reason, there was no point showing her these posters:

The thing is, this was at the same time as the US denied entry into the country to a Somali FIFA football referee even though his paperwork was in order.

Harald and Lukas came round today. Harald started to paint the glass room while Lukas rid us of some annoying electrical anomalies. This meant me getting up early to move everything out of the glass room. Early because Lukas has a habit of turning up at 7am.

As it happened, he didn’t this morning, so I managed to finish before he arrived.

Not that it affected the jobs we had for him.

Then Harald turned up and gradually worked through the day with narry a break.

I, on the other hand, had a long break from 2pm as I headed into Trosa to watch the arrival of M20.

M20 was a mine sweeper in the Swedish navy, built in 1941, which retired from service in 2005. Since then it has been owned by Swedish Maritime Museums and maintained and used by a group of volunteers collectively called Föreningen M20. And, today, it was sailing into Trosa harbour, pennants fluttering and with a brass band welcoming committee. There’s no way I wanted to miss that.

I felt a bit guilty leaving Mirinda at home, still suffering with The Cold (she told Harald that I picked it up on a German train and then gave it to her), but she insisted I go and report back about the festivities.

And what fun it was.

I wasn’t alone down at World’s End. A crowd of excited onlookers waited for the band to start up, which it did as the small boat, followed by a flotilla of even smaller boats, appeared around the corner of Öbolandet. I, along with others, took a bit of video of the approach and eventual docking of the little battler.

Possibly my favourite moment was when the captain appeared and the band played Darth Vader’s theme from the original Star Wars movie. That had me in fits.

It was the sort of quirky thing I love about living here, in Trosa. It feels like I’m living in a TV show like Doc Martin. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

In the meanwhilst, back at the house, Harald finished up for the day and headed home.

That’s starting to look a bit brighter.

The aim was to open on the Sweden Day weekend and they succeeded. Okay, the building wasn’t quite finished but a couple celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary managed to be the first guests, yesterday, at the newest Trosa café at the mini putt putt.

And, as you can see, The Day After Sweden Day this year was glorious. My walk to the ICA was drenched in sunlight and everyone I passed was beaming. (That may be an exaggeration though I didn’t pass that many people.)

The ICA itself was pretty empty, something which pleased me greatly. The old men’s club was, as usual, present in the bistro. I took my usual seat and had my usual latte while they, as usual, nattered on. I’m waiting for the day when I’ll be asked to join them. Of course, I’ll have to be able to speak Swedish for that to happen.

Back at home, Freya was hanging on (she has a hospital appointment on Thursday) and Mirinda was still really sick. I concentrated on admin for most of the day.

I heated up bland soup for Mirinda for dinner. It’s what she’d asked for, and I found something called ‘mild tomato soup’ which, apparently, was perfect for what is ailing her at the moment. Obviously, my soup would be nowhere near bland enough.

Late in the day, there was a sudden flurry of messages on the WhatsApp cooking retreat group. Following my posting of a photo of my tartlets, Suzanne decided to indulge in strawberries and posted about it. Almost everyone joined in with messages of encouragement.

She concluded with this photo:

And this message: “No pictures ofter this but it was a grand time.” I have no idea what she meant.

Five years ago saw us visit Trosa for the very first time. It was Sweden’s National Day, the weather was beautiful, and the town was a fairytale come to life. Little did we know that we would wind up living here. At the time, we were just escaping small-minded stupidity and the plague. In a strange way, these things did us a massive favour

This year’s private celebrations were very muted. For one thing, the planned French dinner was abandoned given Mirinda was sick. We’re hoping today was the worst of it as she was feeling particularly awful. Apart from driving over to Nicoline’s to feed Selma, she didn’t leave the house.

On the other hand, I took Emma up Mount Trosa and through the woods, something I haven’t done for ages.

For the most part, Emma led the way. She is not used to my slow pace over uneven ground and would wind up a long way ahead. She would stop, look around, realise I was a long way behind and come trotting back, just to make sure I was still there.

In fact, I was so slow that she picked up a stick at the top of the mountain and carried it almost the entire way home because she thought I’d throw it for her, something that only happens when stopping to rest.

It was a lovely day for a walk during which we didn’t see anyone, except for a chap who, I think, was doing the Everest Challenge. During our one climb, he passed us a few times, raising his arms in victory every time he reached the top. Clearly mad.

At the top, I noticed that the big phone mast was finally finished. And one of the small, graffiti strewn, electricity, I think, out-buildings has gone. Hopefully the other one will remain in situ as I use the step outside to recover immediately following my ascent.

Ironically, I didn’t wind up doing any cooking today given that Mirinda only wanted soup and I just had a salad for lunch which carried me through to dinner when we finished off the strawberry tarts I made yesterday.

They were delicious. When we finally have the ill-fated French dinner party, they will make an excellent dessert.

The other thing I did was record my latest Letter from Sweden except it wasn’t from Sweden, it was a Letter from France, detailing the cooking retreat. Here it is: