Confined to quarters

I have been told I can’t put on a right shoe for the next few days. This means not going outside. Because our house is surrounded by gravel. The reason is the busted blister on my foot, which did not take too kindly to being in a shoe while I was in the UK. I guess it was inevitable.

As a consequence, Mirinda had to do the supermarket shopping, something she really isn’t that keen on. I had to draw her a map of the ICA as well as supplying a shopping list. She successfully returned with enough food for the next few days, which is fortunate given she has Swedish class on Saturday.

And so, being confined to quarters, I spent a lot of the day working on admin tasks.

We had Harald around to fix the leak in the roof, put some plastic trays under everything (a Swedish requirement) and fix the window ledges that were never put on properly. He worked all day.

Late in the day, Mirinda went off to KSP’s English conversation class, where she told the story of Roger the Catman.

Roger is a chap she met in the woods the other day. He walks his rather expensive cat on a lead three times a day. All a bit odd. He, on the other hand, thought it odd that he was walking in a Swedish wood and talking to an Australian.

The English conversation class was also amazed at Mirinda’s story about sheep farming. When asked how many sheep were on her family property, she replied 3,000. One of the women in the class said she had sheep as well. When Mirinda asked how many she had, the woman replied, 3. Mirinda said, 300? 3,000? No, the woman replied, just 3.

One was called Cinnamon. I say ‘was’ because they’d just eaten her, sent her fleece off to be made into yarn and her skin to Estonia, to become a sheep-skin rug. Something I’ve always been taught was that you don’t name animals you are going to eat. Clearly, it’s not a thing here in Sweden.

Obviously, I didn’t take any photos today, so here’s one from yesterday.

Plumpton is near Lewes in East Sussex. The reason I took the photo is because my sisters both attended a primary school in a place called Plumpton in New South Wales, not far from Rooty Hill. It didn’t have a station. Or much of anything, really. Now it seems to have shops and a high school as well as the aforementioned primary school. Plumpton in East Sussex, on the other hand, has a racecourse.

Plumpton in NSW was originally called Woodstock (we lived on Woodstock Avenue) but it was too confusing because there was another place already called Woodstock, not far away, so they went for Plumpton because of greyhound racing. There were dog tracks in both Plumptons, so it seemed the only logical thing to do.

This entry was posted in Gary's Posts. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.