Grand re-opening celebration balloons

I had a lovely, long chat with Mirinda this evening as she relaxed in her Cologne hotel room. With no phone signal drop-outs and workable wifi, it made for easy conversation and a fill in of what she’d been up to. Obviously, her fortnight had been far more exciting than mine.

Mind you, today I walked the girls into Trosa and, following yesterday’s discovery that the Smackbottom bridge had been reopened, deliberately walked by to see it.

There must have been a grand opening extravaganza, given there were balloons. Mind you, the strange barge-like craft directly beneath the bridge was still tied to the railings, so I guess they are finishing up the final bits and pieces. It makes for a much less traffic jammed bridge down by the ICA roundabout.

I like to think that there was a bottle of champagne smashed over the railing at a grand opening by the Kommun, attended by various local dignitaries. Maybe even another boring speech by the fellow who sent everyone to sleep at Valborg last year.

The weather was very generous for our walk. It started off very sunny with little cloud. Okay, by the time we returned home, the sky was once more cloud-bound, but it didn’t rain. For a change.

We met a couple in the centrum, who said something complimentary about the girls. He obviously spoke Swedish. Iin response I replied with my usual “förlåt, jag pratar inte svenska” and he naturally switched to English.

He asked where the dogs and I were from. I think I confused him by saying “Jag bor i Trosa!” At least, he looked confused. I then told him I was Australian but living in Sweden while the dogs were English.

Seriously, it was quite the confusing, international conversation. It was one of those snowball like chats that just grew into greater complications as it progressed.

That was pretty much it for our interactions. Though I did notice that the once happy witch had been severely beaten up. I don’t think she’ll recover.

In the meanwhilst, at the coal face of mysterious statistics, the blog dropped to 157 views today. When I told Mirinda how many views I’ve had over the last few days, she became concerned and wondered whether it was time I stopped blogging, given it all seemed ridiculously suspicious.

I suggested that I could, maybe, return to my handwritten journals but felt this was a bit extreme. And, frankly, quite pointless given no-one would ever read them. I then proposed that I would wait and see. Which is how we left it.