Jason runs the race

Emma was sitting on my lap, cold, damp and shivering. Freya, her face black with some weird stuff she had decided to rub all over herself, was also sitting on my lap, snoring lightly. At least I expect she was. The music coming from the covered dance space was drowning out most other sounds.

Freya’s little black face was very disconcerting and a bit out of character. I don’t know what was in the dirt but she thoroughly enjoyed it. Well, until we reached home and she had a pre-bed bath.

Back at the disco, while the girls kept me company, Mirinda, Jason, KSP, Jonas and Anna Boom-Boom were busy cutting up a rug, showing the kids how to dance without wearing clunky heels. They went a bit mad when ABBA was played.

We were having a post-run drink at the newest place in town. It’s called La Aduana, Spanish for Toll House. That’s because the building used to be the toll house for Trosa harbour. Or so KSP reliably informed me.

In a rare moment of synchronicity, we watched a crowd of staff members watch one other put up the sign earlier in the day. It was a rather involved procedure which saw him receive a resounding round of applause for his efforts.

We were having a rather large lunch. This was because we’d be having a rather small dinner a bit later. The reason for both of these things was because tonight was the big race; the night that Jason would run against the greatest runners mankind has ever seen.

That may be a bit of an exaggeration, though the Trosa stadslopp does attract a lot of runners from many parts of Sweden and Africa*. And now, of course, Brisbane. Apparently, a lot of professional runners compete for the prize money at these sorts of local events. Given the weather tonight, it’s not always the delightful occupation one would imagine.

Actually, Jonas and I agreed that it is a very silly profession. Though it could be quite pleasant to watch if the rain wasn’t falling.

The rain was a bit of a disappointment given the day had been beautiful. However, by late afternoon, the greyness had crawled in and the rain started. It didn’t stop until the race started by which time we were all pretty well drenched. I was wetter than water. I was so wet that, while we didn’t get home until after midnight, and the rain had stopped at around 9pm, I was still very damp.

But I make it sound awful when it most definitely was not. Apart from the raucous cheering of our new local hero (KSP reckons he set the fastest time of any Friskis&Svettis entrant), the company was an absolute delight.

KSP had suggested we sit by the park, next to Matstudio. There were scant trees there which did nothing to shelter us from the rain but would have provided excellent shade from the sun. Had it been around.

Earlier in the day, we’d taken some massive bits of cardboard around to Ebba and Victor’s place f0r their vegetable garden and, it occurred to me during the downpour that it may have still been sitting outside getting awfully wet and useless. I hope not because they were very pleased to get it. By the way, their garden is looking amazing, though the lack of a fence is a bit annoying for them.

After dropping off the cardboard, we headed into town for the big lunch – seriously, Jason ate half a pig’s leg. He’d have eaten the other half but they didn’t give it to him. The food at La Aduana was excellent. We will be going back. I hope. Well, we did go back a little sooner than I thought we would, I guess.

After the race and the dancing, there may have been a bit of non-drunken singing along the almost quiet streets of Trosa. The vocals were supplied by Mirinda, KSP and Anna. They sang selections from various movie soundtracks and, not for the first time, KSP told me I had to see Hamilton.

We were a jolly group and parted company at the church alley. You could almost feel the sigh of relief from the locals. Mind you, I think Anders and his partner Anna were sound asleep. Anders, in particular, probably didn’t hear a thing through his drunken haze.

Anders and Anna had chatted to us as they wandered by our spot on the race route. He admitted to having had a number of drinks. His slurring implied the number was quite high. They live in town and were out walking their dog, a Westie and were taken with our two, possibly because of Freya’s black face.

Earlier, at La Aduana, our waitress had taken a bit of a shine to Freya, something that rarely happens. Of course, that was before her application of whatever the black stuff was.

Still, the day belonged to Jason and his amazing 45 minute run. All kudos, dude.

* I was unable to list the winners or any of the timings because the official stadslopp website had some sort of meltdown. Which is frustrating for everyone.