This content is protected against AI scraping.
Ages ago, I lost the recordings and transcripts for the first 15 episodes of my Letters from Sweden. Though in deep despair, I never gave up looking and, you’ll never guess. I FOUND THEM! The thing is, I was going to announce that I have made 50 but felt a bit of a sham if I could only produce 35. Anyway, they are all back, where they should be. Right here.
In the not so good news department, the waste pipes in our house are gradually filling up and blocking the exit of all manner of things that should be gone. The blockage under the kitchen sink has grown, blocking the sink, the dishwasher and, horror of horrors, the toilet in the shower room.
I texted Harald first thing, to see if there was anything he could do, but he texted back saying he wasn’t working at the moment because he was very sick and I should contact another plumber. Mirinda then found a company who would come out today, Saturday and sort us out.
The guy that turned up looked ridiculously like Woody Harrelson.
He was very efficient and had everything cleared away by 17:00. Oddly, the blockage was, in fact, two separate ones – the kitchen and the toilet. Just a coincidence that they both acted up at the same time.
Of course, the big thing today was baking bread for the crayfish party tonight. I was quite happy with the first one.
The weird shape is because I baked it in a small Dutch oven I bought second hand a few weeks ago. I figured that was better than buying a bread tin especially. Anyway, it worked. Obviously. As it turned out, the shape of the second one was weirder.
I spent a while wondering whether they would be good for toasting. Turns out they were.
Apparently I was also in charge of bringing butter, only I’d not read the memo properly. For this infringement I was put in charge of making the toast. But, full disclosure, Kitten helped with this onerous task.
The toast was the least of the evening’s repast. Some delicious crayfish (Jonas and KSP), superb Västerbotten pie (Birgitta) and two berry tarts (Kitten).
And, of course, the crayfish house looked perfect.
I know I’ve only attended a few crayfish parties but this was my first one without alcohol so toasting after every song was a very sober affair. Birgitta tempted me with offers of OP Andersons, but I demurred politely. It was a good test of my resolve.
Of course, I wasn’t the only one not drinking booze. Jonas was driving and, tomorrow, he is learning how to scythe and will, therefore, need all his wits about him rather than slicing them off. And, of course, Mirinda was stuck drinking my non-alcoholic wine.
Speaking of the songs, one of them was a misspelled Lambeth Walk, in Swedish. When I sang the tune (I’d forgotten the words) I know from my family parties, I ended with a resounding “OI!” but was corrected by Thomas who said it was “Hej!“
While not a Cockney myself, I am the son of one and they would NEVER say “Hej!” at the end of a line of song. And, to prove it, here’s a young Robert Lindsay showing how it should be sung.
The song was written in 1937, in English, and was inevitably sung by my drunk relatives, which explains why I remember the tune and a few of the words. Including the “OI!” Still, what do I know. After all, I think wine bottles should have corks rather than screw tops.
Anyway, there was the usual struggle (by me) to sing the Swedish songs but Mirinda did much better than preceding years. She even read and translated a short, odd story about a wild man who broke another man’s umbrella then hoped it would rain. Was it an analogy of an unfaithful wife? I don’t know. (There is part of the story shown in the bottom right-hand corner of the photo of Birgitta cutting her Västerbotten pie.)
The night was, of course, great fun and enjoyed by all. It was particularly ‘enjoyed’ by a rather noisy cricket that was possibly complaining that we were keeping it awake. Oh, and my bread was praised and devoured, so there was that.
And, of course, Nicoline showed what an excellent hostess she is. I do love attending crayfish parties and have her to thank for introducing us to them.
Tusen tack, Nicoline!
