This morning I woke up at a reasonable hour, fully refreshed following many hours of sleep. This was an unexpected pleasure for me. And another, even bigger pleasure awaited me. Mirinda and Jason had completely tidied the kitchen. I discovered, later, that they had rewarded themselves with pizza for dinner at Ankaret, leaving me fast asleep with the puppies.
My need for sleep was created by the two previous disturbed nights of very little. Falling asleep at the dining table after lunch was my body telling me it needed to shut down for a bit. Which is exactly what happened.
I woke up feeling refreshed, a feeling so unusual, it took me a while to realise what it was.
Anyway, feeling wide awake and ready to meet the day, I headed off to the shops.
I was rather dismayed to discover that the little pink pixie house I wrote about the other day, had been relocated. Onto a fence. There was no little ladder, so I can only imagine it was moved while the pixies were out, on the prowl. I’m thinking that they may not have been happy upon their return.
One good thing about this shocking relocation is that I could get a closer look at its construction. And, on closer examination, I discovered that it was made of cardboard and, while looking sturdy enough in its original location, was now pretty precarious. A heavy shower of rain could easily mean complete destruction in a very short while.
The thing is, in its original site, protected by the stump and the rock, it would have had a far greater chance of survival. Now, on the fence, it would just wash away.
Imagine my surprise when, a little further along the fence, I discovered another little pixie house, precariously perched on the sloping top. I can only think that this was the result of a pixie cull. No good can come of this.
I don’t know what is going on or why. It’s all a delightful mystery. Though possibly not so delightful for the pixies.
Another mystery that I forgot to mention yesterday is that there appears to be no direct Swedish word for ‘gravy’. At lunch, yesterday, Ann-Helen insisted on calling my gravy, sauce. It then transpired there is a lack of a translation.
Okay, ‘köttsås’ comes close but that translates to meat sauce. Yesterday’s gravy was chicken, pork, a little bit of veg water and oil. I guess that’s a meat sauce.
Still…not gravy.
