I may have been a bit drunk tonight. That’s the only explanation I have for the title of this post. I wrote it at around 7:30pm with no reference to what, who or why. I was going to just delete it and start again, but then figured I liked the mystery and the possibility that someone might know what it means and will read it and smile.
The reason I may have been drunk was because the three of us (Mirinda, Fi and I) spent a fair few hours laughing, eating, singing and, of course, drinking along with KSP, Jonas and Nicoline over a bowl of crayfish. The remains of the catch from last September.
There was the obligatory Västerbotten pie which was delicious and made by KSP, obviously a big plate of crayfish which had been boiled in Jonas’ special broth, a perfectly prepared slice of zander and the cutest little semla buns, made by the Master Baker, Jonas.

We also played another round of the song game that we tried on New Year’s Eve. The one that kept insisting a song by Leo Sayer was actually something from the 90’s sung by someone else. There was no such haunting of the machine tonight. The six of us played a rousing and rumbunctious game, which was won by the magnificent team of KSP and Gary.
But the main attraction, and the real reason we were there, was the ritual devouring of the crayfish. Delicious, of course, but also a fun introduction for Fi. Mind you, I don’t think I was the best teacher, given I’m barely above student status when it comes to the Swedish art of peeling them properly. Fortunately, KSP was sat on her other side and gave expert pointers.
The crayfish was followed by a delish fish dish, caught and cooked by Jonas. Zander covered in pesto. Superb.
I think it’s safe to say that we all had a marvellous time with plenty to eat, drink, sing and laugh about. Well, not so much drinking for Nicoline, who designated herself as our driver. Thank you, Nicoline. Especially given the late hour of our leaving.

I must also thank Jonas for successfully driving our car in and out of their super scary drive.
Oh, I almost forgot…following on from a conversation I had with Nicoline and Jonas while the others were keeping the chickens awake, I need to report on the etymology of the word ‘bird’. It was thought that it came from Old English, but now it is thought to be much older than that. Inconclusive then. Sadly.
Poultry, on the other hand, comes from the Old French word pouletrie, meaning domestic fowl.