Today was interesting. It started with dog vomit, had a small museum and Scandinavian shop in the middle and ended with a trip to the emergency vet. The middle bit was planned. Not so the poorly dog.
We’re planning a Swedish Christmas Eve, so I had to go into London in order to buy something which, I discovered, they’d sold out of. Of course, that means I’ll have to go back once they’ve restocked. Such a shame.
It was my first visit to the Scandi Kitchen and I loved it. The shop was excellent, if somewhat small, and my lunch (tiny räksallad with beetroot salad) was delicious. My lunches in Stockholm, almost always, consisted of räksallad, so it was nearly like being back in Sweden.
Of course, I didn’t allow for a sick dog.
First thing, as I was enjoying my morning coffee with Emma on my arm and Freya on my thigh, Emma suddenly decided to vomit. Fortunately, she climbed off my arm first and spewed on the rug. That was very considerate of her. I was very worried when she had a drink and almost immediately threw that up as well.
I let Mirinda know and headed for the station. I figured that Emma may have eaten something disagreeable and had now thrown it up.
My train was delayed so, for some reason, SWT decided to make it an express from Woking which was lovely and put us closer to being on time once we’d arrived. The trip was actually quite pleasant, except for this chap.
It’s funny how we blame kids for putting dirty shoes on seats. This guy proves it comes from the parents. I bet his wife (sitting next to him) would be very unhappy if she sat down on a dirty seat.
Ignoring the etiquette devoid, the trip was fine.
When I’d planned my trip to Fitzrovia (a part of London I’d never visited before) I decided to visit the previously unknown Comic Museum. And what a treat it was.
There’s heaps of framed cartoons lining the walls, with handy explanations; handy for the more obscure ones. I thoroughly enjoyed it and would recommend it to anyone. It’s small, it’s equally funny, shocking and serious and, best of all, it has an exhibition called This Exhibition is a Work Event: The Tale of Boris Johnson. Who knew that Johnson is the most cartooned politician in this country? Makes sense, I guess. What better subject for laughter than a clown?
My personal favourite cartoon had nothing to do with Johnson. It was this one:
It was drawn by Tony Husband (1950-present) and featured in Private Eye.
After a splendid 45 minutes, I headed up the street to the Scandi Kitchen. As I said, I hadn’t realised it was so small. I thought it would be like the Japanese Shop but, no. The café bit upstairs is like a normal café but the shop, downstairs, is about the size of our front room without the bookshelves. Still, they manage to get a lot into a small space.
I picked what I needed (disappointed about what they didn’t have), used my severely limited Swedish, then headed upstairs for lunch.
Once outside, and heading back to Waterloo, I was caught in a couple of squalls which proved I’d worn the wrong hat and, may have had something to do with the almost catastrophe I had in Farnham. It was when I was stepping up into the bus.
I heard a clunk and turned around to find a young woman bending over and picking up my pickled beetroot. Fortunately, the bottle didn’t break. I realised the bag I was carrying had a hole in it. I walked very carefully into the bus, but a second bottle escaped. The young woman, clearly quick thinking and with excellent reactions, stopped it with her foot, before it could roll out onto the ground.
I thanked her profusely and inspected the bag.
It’s an old favourite hessian Wholefoods bag that I’ve had for years. Well, I did. It went into the bin at home. And, you wouldn’t believe, the good old Systembolaget saved the day.
Back in July, when I went solo to Sweden, I bought a fold up shopping bag from the System in order to carry booze back to wherever I was staying. It has sat in the bottom of my leather shoulder bag ever since. And, as luck would have it, I actually had it with me. There was a bit of repacking on the front seat of the bus but, all was saved, and I didn’t lose anything.
Something we did lose was Emma. For the night, anyway.
Poor Emma hadn’t improved over the day. She hadn’t eaten anything all day. We thought it best to take her to see the emergency vet, who put her on liquids and didn’t seem concerned with her bloody poo. She thought that Emma had probably picked up a virus from somewhere. She spent the night at the vet, comfortable and without Freya.
And Freya didn’t miss Emma either. The pair of them are very different to the poodles, who hated being apart.
