Not catching on

Up in the woods this afternoon, I searched in vain for the arrow painted on the stone but find it, I did not. I think the trolls have been playing a game with me. Luckily, I didn’t fall for their tomfoolery. Our trip through the woods was unhampered by fairytale trickery.

By the way, tomfoolery comes from the fact that a buffoon or jester was known as a Tom Fool. The word caught on sometime during the 17th century. The term Tom Fool on the other hand, was first recorded in the 14th century and may have been because a man called Thomas Skelton was a famous jester at the time. As well as getting a fair few laughs, it is rumoured that Thomas may also have beheaded some poor young fellow named Dick at the behest of Wild Will of Whitbeck

All of that aside, it was my second walk of the day, the first being to the ICA during which I ran into the Running Man. Not literally as he was carrying a litre of milk, cradled in his arm like a very small, rectangular baby.

He had just returned from his motorcycle trip to Norway and was super excited to tell me all about it.

Up and down mountains, along the edge of fjords, tracing the squiggly bits for which Slartibartfast rightly won his award. Of course, as he had predicted before he left, it rained most of the time but, still, it was amazing.

Mind you, not as amazing as my wife returning from London, which she did late tonight. She should have been home an hour earlier but the plane was delayed by an hour before taking off so she didn’t walk in the door until gone 11:30pm. (See, KSP, what did I tell you?) She was full of cold and had almost lost her voice.

Because of the flight delay, I had to cancel the taxi I ordered and order another one to meet the next train. The driver wasn’t best pleased though that could have been because he was randomly breath tested on the way to us. This follows being tested yesterday as well. He said it would continue all weekend because of the concerts going on in Trosa at the moment.

That reminded me of Jason, last year, hearing music through the woods and following the sound down to the town. In fact, I heard the music myself when I went outside to look at the moon, which couldn’t be seen because of the all encompassing cloud cover.

Mirinda described it as being “…incredibly huge and orange with a jaunty black beret.“

I didn’t get a photo of it, but here’s one taken earlier in the woods. Near where the arrow was the other day.

PS: I heard back from the Mekka people. Apparently, the bagerie was originally called Nilssons when it was established in 1910. Then, at some point, long after they opened in Trosa, they thought to rename it Mekka which means meeting place in old Swedish and is also mocka for coffee. The thing is, Mekka never really caught on and Trosa-ites kept calling it Nilssons so they have decided to go back to the original name.

Maximum points go to KSP and Nicoline, who both knew the place as Nilssons. Of course, incomers like us, only know it as Mekka and will no doubt keep calling it that.