I was standing at the check-out in ICA this morning. The young man at the till held up one of my vegetables and asked, in Swedish, obviously, “Do you know what this is?” having fallen foul of this sort of veg ID issue before, I was prepared. I had taken a photograph of the label. He read it, said “Majrova,” to himself quietly, nodding sagely, and put them through.
“They’re called turnips in English,” I unhelpfully replied.
“Ah,” He said, “That makes it easier.“
I’m not sure what he meant by that.
Having paid for my turnips (they were destined for a tagine), I headed home as a weak sun slowly rose from the edge of thick, grey clouds. Rain was predicted to fall and, a little earlier than expected, it fell on me. It was frozen rain, falling on me like so many tiny pins.
A little later, Mirinda took the girls for a walk. They had only been gone about ten minutes when the rain bucketed down, drenching them all.
As the day progressed, the temperature steadily rose as the rain grew heavier. By the time the sun set, almost all the snow had vanished, melting into the rapidly growing puddles. And the mercury finally rested at around 5°.
Tomorrow is supposed to remain warm while continuing wet. We’re off to Nyköping to have our winter tyres fitted, so let’s hope the forecast is as accurate as it was today.
Back at the ICA car park, I noticed a few, early Christmas decorations adorning the shops.
I thought it looked quite lovely, beneath the forbidding clouds.
