The snow returned today. After a week of gradually worsening slush, the steely grey clouds rolled in and the white stuff began laying down its carpet of white. This was most noticeable as I was returning from the ICA first thing. I felt a bit like the old man that King Wenceslas spotted foraging for wood on the feast day of St Stephen*.
And I have to say that the Friday before Christmas appears to be Men’s Day at the ICA.
There were hundreds (it felt like) single men, pulling those baskets on wheels around, talking to fellow single men as they shopped. There were the usual women and couples but just a proliferation of single men. It was a bit odd. Maybe it’s a bun day we’ve missed.
Upon my return, it was time for my final visit with the Beautiful Nurse at Vårdcentralen, who changed my dressing and proclaimed my wound was well on the way to recovery. She still couldn’t quite believe that the extra toe was permanent but was happy the skin appears to be healing nicely.
Obviously, no visit to Vårdcentralen could be complete without a post-dressing visit to a Trosa café; today it was to my favourite: Visthuset. I managed to grab a bag of their amazing knäckebröd and a pack of saffron biscotti, which made my taste buds sing out in joy when I Mirinda spotted them. Though, I’m a bit concerned that I might turn a bit yellow with all the saffron I’m eating.
Back at the house, Mirinda and Denise started a bit of house construction. I could hear Harald making his non-complimentary noises under his breath.
Unfortunately, they ran out of mortar so it remained unfinished until tomorrow when I shall grab a bag of cement from the hardware shop.
Another highlight of our day was the concert (yes, another one) at Trosa church. We thought it was going to be a bit of a sing-along with Jesus situation but, unlike most Christmas church services, this one featured a choir, basically giving a performance.
And, goodness me, the congregation was even encouraged to applaud. What is the Church of Sweden coming to? Actually, I have no idea why clapping in a church is forbidden. Normally, anyway. Why? Is it wrong to encourage people rather than God when in his house? Seems a bit churlish if that’s the case. Surely, he was responsible for making people write and sing songs in the first place.
Apart from all that, the applause was warranted as the choir sang their little hearts out in Swedish as the vicar gave a stirring Christmas message which we didn’t understand. Mind you, she had a beautiful voice, making her oratory a joy to listen to.
After being properly entertained, we walked home in the snow. And, I have to say, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
Denise wanted a white one and I think she just might get her wish.
* I have a bit of a problem with Wenceslas. He seems to be very concerned with the peasant’s lot and, does what he considers to be the Christian thing by taking food to the poor man, trudging through the snow to deliver it and yet, as King/Lord he doesn’t seem to help anyone else. Even his page is forced to trudge through the snow carrying the offering. Surely the more Christian thing would be, after he spotted the poor man’s plight, he said to his page:
“Look here, young fella, this is a nasty business. Look at the poor man in the awful weather conditions, forced to collect frozen wood just to keep warm and his family fed. I have decided, in order to remedy the inequality in this life, to evenly distribute my wealth with all the poor in my remit. Oh, and you can stay here in the warmth.”
I’m sure John Mason Neale could have made it rhyme.
