Tommy (of The Perfect Swedish family) turned 50 this weekend. Given his nearest and dearest were going to be showering him with half a century of celebrations, they weren’t able to take the girls this weekend. With Mirinda not feeling very well, this turned out to be a good thing. Mind you, we didn’t go to the island which, I think, is the first time we’ve not gone since we arrived in October.
That’s not to say we didn’t do anything.
Had Mirinda felt better, we’d have gone out to dinner but, because she still felt a bit poorly, we needed to go and buy food instead. She drove me to the Ica for salmon – her choice. She then decided we’d drive to the sea. As you do.
We drove the short distance to the ferry stop at Årsta brygga where you can catch the Waxholm II to the island of Utö, something we really need to do at some stage.
By the way, the little dots in the photo above are ducks sitting on the ice. As we stood on the dock we watched another couple skating all over the place.
As we arrived in the car park, the ferry arrived and disgorged its load of passengers. I can only assume they were returning from a weekend away. A lot of them had dogs, skis, luggage, bikes, etc. Unhappy visitors returning to their not-on-an-island lives.
Having watched all the action there was to watch (the ferry wasn’t scheduled to leave for a long while) we took a very slushy walk along the side of the sea, walking by an ingenious park bench with a hinged seat. Just perfect for sitting on when the weather has been wet.
Mirinda mentioned the hinged seat with regards to our terrace. If only the seats had been hinged, and we’d lifted them up, she’d have been able to sit out there. Such a simple idea. Strange that this is the first time I’ve seen it. Someone in the UK needs to do it in parks. It would certainly save a lot of wet butts.
The slushy path led to the end of, what appeared to be, a marina. It was empty of any craft but looked like it might be quite busy in warmer months.
It didn’t take long before it was time to return home. Not that it was cold. The temperature was about 4° when we arrived. Oddly, this has become my new benchmark for not wearing a fleece. In the UK my benchmark for shorts is around 10°. Given we’ve been subjected to some days being colder than -15° this winter, maybe my temperature control system has improved.
Not that I’m in a hurry to wear shorts yet. By the time we headed back home, Max told us the temperature was falling. As I emptied him of recycling at the car park, I realised I would have been quite happy to put a light fleece on.