Redistribution and recycling

I wore shorts for the second day in a row today. A woman, walking her dogs, asked me if I was cold. “Ha!” I scoffed, gesturing towards the bright sun. She was somewhat wrapped up, which I found odd. But then I was the only person abroad this morning in summer clothes. And I was right in my confidence as the day remained warm, bright and beautiful.

This was a good thing, not merely in the justification in my wardrobe choice. We went and wandered around a huge flea market at the sports ground near the country church where lots of quarter professional stalls were set up, selling all manner of things.

It was Nicoline who described it as quarter professional. She had started off, when she originally told us about it, by describing it as professional in comparison to the flea market that is happening tomorrow. She then modified her description to one of semi professional before deciding it was half of that again.

We saw her when we returned her much appreciated garden chairs. We had also popped around because Mirinda forgot to take home a pot that Nicoline had suggested she take for the tomato plant that is currently on our kitchen window sill.

No matter the level of professionalism, the market was an excellent source for things to put in the stuga. If we set it up as an AirBnB, we are going to need some bits and bobs and this proved an amazing opportunity. And the prices were extraordinarily low. We came away with a car full for less than a wallet full.

Nicoline also came away with a load of buns which she, generously handed around as we sat in her garden enjoying the weather. We then headed over for a fika visit with KSP and Jonas. I’d suggested we go over, ostensibly to give them a couple of egg cartons which I felt guilty about throwing away when they could use them but also in order to see some newly hatched chicks and to discuss the Eurovision final which happened tonight.

I was rather hoping that Croatia would win with Baby Lasagna performing Rim Tim Tagi Dim. And they almost did. But they couldn’t quite get over the hurdle that was the Swiss entry. Nemo, singing The Code, won the final with 591 points, 44 points ahead of Croatia. Apparently, Nemo was the first non-binary winner of Eurovision, ever the trend setter.

I had been a bit concerned that we wouldn’t get to see Eurovision because of our lack of terrestrial TV channels but, after a largely frustrating but ultimately successful hour, I managed to cast from my phone to the TV, and we watched the entire four-hour extravaganza. Mirinda even managed to stay awake.

The whole show was brilliantly co-hosted by comedian Petra Mede who we remembered as Katja in Bonus Family, where her dry and delicious humour was not apparent. She made up for it tonight. What a cack.

As a Eurovision footnote, I was very pleased that Israel garnered a large public vote. It may have been a sympathy vote, but they deserved the 323 votes merely for withstanding the protests outside, the scuffles inside and the general bad form booing in the auditorium. But not just that; the song was very good. Well done, Eden Golan.

Finally, in terms of delicious, KSP made a rhubarb and strawberry crumble that tantalised our taste buds even more than Eurovision tantalised our ears. The rhubarb came from their garden. Actually, Jonas was very pleased that Mirinda called it a garden. I’m not sure what other people call it.

And, I should add, that I was very sorry for flooding the deck in milk following an awful throw of the tennis ball. It was a terrible accident which left me mortified.