Given the heatwave, we had the windows wide open at the hotel. This meant we had no trouble hearing the seagulls. And the seagulls in Strängnäs are raucous. They are also very early risers. They start at stupid o’clock, waking many heavy sleepers from their flowery bed. Then, in a frankly vindictive manner, they stop. No noise. Nothing. Then, just as you’re drifting off again, the squawking recommences.
Mind you, it didn’t stop Mirinda having a jolly good sleep in on both our nights at the hotel. Which, obviously, is a good thing. I managed to sleep until 7am, which is pretty good for me.
There was no breakfast for us today as we were leaving the hotel, and we weren’t that impressed with it yesterday. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with it but, if you’re going to have carbs you want to make sure they are worth it.
Also, the bacon was tasteless. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Perhaps, as Mirinda said, it was actually vegan bacon. Whatever its origins, it was quite odd.
Having packed Max, we decided to walk around the marina then up to a handy konditori we spotted yesterday. As well as coffee, I had a cardamom bun which proved there was nothing wrong with my sense of taste.
Before taking our leave of Strängnäs we sat on the grass watching the boats leave, remarking on how some had head coverings while others were prepared to be blistered by the sun. It was all great and judgemental fun.
There were three chaps on a jet boat who spent an inordinate amount of time tinkering with their boat. They were having major problems getting the roof up so, after much discussion, let it alone. They then turned the engine on.
What a noise! Even the seagulls complained. And they woke up the chap in the boat next to them as well as everyone else foolish enough to still be asleep. It made the placid scene above into something more akin to a stock car race.
It was enough for us to head off.
We’d decided, in lieu of our usual brunch at the island, we’d have brunch at the Pavilion at Mariefred. So, after navigating our way around a sizeable detour caused by roundabout repairs and the need for petrol, we pulled into the Gripsholm Slott car park and strolled over to choose the best, most breezy table on the terrace.
As well as great food and beer, the Pavilion has a mini putt-putt course and we were entertained by two groups of people doing a round of the tiny holes.
The first family (mum, dad, son and daughter) was very entertaining. They started off with the dad teaching the daughter how to do it. She caught on quickly and soon became a bit of a champion. The mum and son went off and argued.
Actually, the son was being a bit of a prima donna while the mum showed off her putting skills.
Eventually they all came together and played some serious mini putt-putt.
Something odd I noticed was how the father stood to putt. He pushed his butt out to such an extent that you could have rested a pint of beer on his lower back. It looked quite bizarre. Mirinda said that Miss Marie at ballet school would have said it was the sign of a bad ballet dancer. This made me laugh.
And speaking of ballet dancers, there was a couple of tulle dresses on show. One of them was a little girl, wearing a Frozen t-shirt. We knew it was a girl because she was dressed in pink.
The other person wearing a tulle skirt was a fully grown Japanese woman. Her tulle skirt was white and layered with bits of black in it. To say it was an odd thing to wear to a Sunday lunch during a heatwave would be an understatement.
Having had our fill of people watching, we slowly wandered back to Max and set off for home.
The trip home was nice and short and pretty smooth. Still, we needed a bit of a rest to get over the drive before going to fetch the girls from Linn. We then decided to go to the island anyway to have ice cream. And we were given a bit of midsummer cake which was deliciously naughty but very, very nice.
So endeth a lovely weekend away.
