Michael Gambon died of pneumonia today. He was 82. We saw him a few times on stage. He was easily one of the greatest performers I have ever seen. Him and Judi Dench. Both of them absolutely mesmerizing. It’s definitely a sad day for live theatre.
On a brighter note, Fi doesn’t like bald testicles, so she insists that whenever Archie gets a trim, the hairdresser leaves a fringe covering them. Seems a bit extreme but I guess scissors could be better than electric shears to such a delicate area of the anatomy.
So, yes, Fi has arrived in Sweden. This morning we headed into Stockholm, hurtling along at 200 kilometres per hour, on our local train.
We were to meet her on the Arlanda Express platform after she spent the night at a hotel near the airport. She would have missed the last train to us, so we all figured it was a good idea for her to meet us refreshed. Particularly after her marathon trip. (Apparently Brisbane hasn’t discovered premium class in international planes yet.)
And meet her we did. All smiles and dragging a massive, super heavy suitcase, which we left in a storage locker, we left Stockholm Central for the usual long walk to Kungsträdgården where we stopped at the Grand Cafe for coffee/beer and buns.
Mirinda did her usual tour guide impression, pointing out the islands and important buildings along the way. As usual, she included the Ugly Palace which Fi was very diplomatic about saying it just looked a bit factory like, which prompted me to suggest that the problem was it looks like an old gasworks. Of course, Mirinda disagreed with me.
Eventually, after a detour to the Fabulous International Feast of Food Arcade so I could buy sultanas, currants and mixed dried fruit, we headed back to the train and home.
Incidentally, at the FIFFA, I was served by an Italian who wanted to chat a bit. I was wearing my Napoli t-shirt and he asked if I knew where the name came from. He then gave me a history lesson of how the Greeks went to Rome and then the Romans created a New City where Naples is today. When he discovered I was Australian, he told me how he once met Pete Garrett of Midnight Oil in Surabaya. We were in agreement that both the music and the man were terrific.
Italian dried fruit salesmen aside, we arrived home, where Fi made all the right noises and quickly settled into the guest house (or her house as she now calls it) before we all sat down to dinner.
When we rattled off all of our visitors over the last 50 odd days, she was worried about her being with us for so long. We assured her, it’s not the same with sisters. I think our time together last year at Dural proved how well the three of us get on. It’s going to be excellent.
A bit like her first taste of a cardamom bun.
By the way, in case anyone reading this is unaware…Archie is a dog.
