Making a mess of the bathroom

There were fewer people at the Notholmen café this week. I put it down to the weather which was sometimes sunny, sometimes grey and sometimes a flurry of very small snowflakes. Again. It was also very cold. Mind you, in our experience, this rarely puts the normally, hardy Swedes off.

Even in the depths of winter, when the snow was falling, the chill wind was cutting and sitting outside was neither for man nor beast, there’d always be hardy Swedes sitting on the chairs outside the café, hands wrapped round hot beverages, nose shining red with cold. But there were not today.

In fact, everyone was inside. All the tables but one were occupied. This was in complete contrast to last week when even we sat outside in the sun. Today, however, we took the last table and had the usual wonderful brunch.

We didn’t see Evelyn this week as she wasn’t in. We did see the other woman who always fusses over the dogs. She said Emma needed a haircut to which Mirinda responded with the fact that I’m rubbish at it. She then said when she had a fluffy dog she went and took lessons in how to cut its hair.

I was going to ask her how much she’d charge for the girls, but she was gone before I could. Mind you, while hairy, they were both clean, given I gave them a shower this morning, after Mirinda returned from her usual walk in the woods.

And, of course, they didn’t like it and they made a big, wet mess of the bathroom. Still, they needed cleaning and were much cuddlier when finished.

While Mirinda was in the woods embracing the solitude, I was recording the second episode of my podcast. It took a less time this week, given I didn’t have to teach myself how to use the software and I’d already recorded the intro and outro last week.

In fact, the whole thing took about 20 minutes and that includes having to re-record the episode when I stumbled. Then, listening back in the car on the way back from Tyresö Slott, having listened to it three times before publishing it, I realised I’d said the wrong year when reading the date.

Stupid Gaz.

Speaking of Tyresö Slott, we wandered over to the church before heading home. I took a few gravestone photographs, so I can add them to the Find a Grave website. The church looked lovely in the occasional bursts of sun.

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