The weather has turned a bit chillier of an evening. Today marked the second time I was forced into trackies and light fleece. Though the day, by sharp contrast, was still warm and humid. Just right for the mosquitoes that seem to overpopulate this part of Trosa.
Speaking of mosquitoes…I read an article the other day in La Monde about how tiger mosquitoes are being found in Paris, causing fumigation to take place in the capital. While this, in and of itself, seems unimportant, the thing is that the tiger mosquito can carry the denge fever virus – they pick it up when they sting an infected person then spread it when they sting an uninfected one.
The tiger mosquito likes it hot and humid and, therefore, is generally found in more equatorial areas however, with the changes in global climate, they are spreading further north each year. I know people in the UK are concerned about climate migrants ‘invading’ Britain in small boats but these tiny invaders might just be more dangerous.
Anyway, enough of that. Today we popped over to Nicoline’s to, firstly Skype with Fi and the kids, using her wifi and, secondly, to enjoy a light lunch and chat in her sun-drenched garden.
Pictured, in the glass jar, is some of Nicoline’s homemade wild garlic pesto. It is amazing and, lucky us, she gave us this pot full. Unfortunately, I didn’t make our contribution – they were rolls and tiny tarts fresh for ICA.
Over a bite or two, we learned of Nicoline’s theatrical heritage with grandfather, father and self all indulging in theatre at one time or other.
Her father, for instance, owned a theatre for about a decade. It wasn’t doing very good, in fact was almost bankrupt, when he suddenly discovered Ray Cooney. He went from fighting the creditors off to wallowing in cash. She likes to think he introduced Sweden to the comic genius that Ray Cooney is (still alive, laughing and aged 91).
At one point, Nicoline was used to translate between actors and a British director. They were sitting in the stalls and suddenly the director turned to Nicoline and asked what the actors were saying. She told him. He said that it wasn’t funny and wondered why. She then sat down with the script and realised the translator had made a hash of the old triple comedy device.
She set the translation straight and the rest, as they say, is history. These days, if she sees a Ray Cooney play on stage, she sometimes despairs when the jokes don’t work because of a faulty translator. I can just see her in the front row, head in hands, groaning softly at the missed opportunities to make people laugh.
Fortunately, there was no lack of laughter with the three of us, and we thoroughly enjoyed our lunchtime fun.
On the way home, being a Sunday, we popped over to the cafés at Emils Backe in order to take advantage of one of the final weekends they are open this season. There were more people there today, which could be because of the weather.
Okay, it looks a bit deserted in the photo above but, believe me, there were hordes behind me, sitting eating and drinking or self-picking bunches of flowers.
