There’s a small brick building at Tyresö Slott. From the side it looks like a rugged, weather defeating bus shelter. When you stand at the front and peer in the smeary windows, it appears to be full of chicken wire. At the correct time of year, there are roses all around it. Though I couldn’t see any evidence of the roses.
Claes Lagergren, one time owner and the man who bequeathed Tyresö Slott to the nation, built the little memorial in memory of friends, most notably John How. He had drawn the plans for it in 1884 and was building it in 1917. John, his best friend, died in 1916 in Stockholm.
I’ve not found anything about their relationship, how they met or anything else. There are a few photographs, however. Here’s one of them both together.
It was taken in 1889 by an Italian. Claes is on the right. I have no idea why they’re looking in different directions. Maybe it was the fashion in 1889.
The small memorial is down from the palace, close to the water. Mirinda left me there as she went off into Ogre Wood to take the girls for a muddy walk. I sat on a mud free bench and read.
We’d just come from our usual Sunday brunch at the Café Notholmen which had far more customers than last week. Mind you, the weather was a tad better than last week. Also, it’s closer to Christmas and people are on holiday. Maybe. I don’t know why but there was a noticeable increase in café traffic.
Though, you wouldn’t think so looking at this photo.
Mirinda was chatting to Evelyn while ordering our brunch. Evelyn said she was studying drama and had been hoping to go to the UK to attend some classes but the plague had put paid to that. Mirinda commiserated and, in passing, mentioned she had a Masters in Theatre. As you do.
Evelyn excitedly suggested that Mirinda could give her an acting masterclass. We think she was serious. Mirinda, later, said it was a shame she didn’t have all our theatre books with us. I assured her that she could easily hold a masterclass without them.
Back at home we settled in as the sun set and before heading out for our regular walk around the neighbourhood. While we were gone, a surprise package was left at our door.
Fiona had messaged me earlier in the day wanting Mirinda’s full phone number, so she could send us a hamper. And there it was. Sitting waiting for us. With great delight, the wrapping was removed and the contents revealed in all its sugary goodness.
There’ll be no shortage of sweetness in this house.