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Today was meant to be a day of cooking and a night eating and chatting with KSP and Jonas. I was going to make scallops, moussaka and crème brûlée and had been looking forward to it very much. But, given the week we’ve had, it had to be postponed. And, speaking of postponements, I had to dip out of the latest Other Book Group meeting to discuss Dogs of Summer by Andrea Abreu, which was doubly a shame because I actually enjoyed it and wanted to discuss my thoughts.
Anyway, what was going to happen but didn’t is not really what this blog is about so…
After shopping and navigating the Freya-less morning, we took her to the vet who said she would deal with the cremation. I don’t remember if I have said how lovely the vet is, here in Trosa. Kind, caring and as loving as any dog owner. I can’t remember us having a lovelier vet. And we’ve had a few.
We then headed out and about, stapling posters up for the next Riksteatern play. This always takes a couple of hours and is strangely satisfying. Naturally I took a photo down at the harbour.
Don’t be misled by the photo above. The day consisted of scattered showers, total cloud coverage and the occasional sunny bursts. I was just lucky with the timing of the photo.
Back at the house, Mirinda had a nap (she slept very little last night, keeping poor Freya company) while I pottered around.
Earlier in the day, Nicoline had texted asking if we would come over to Harald’s house to sit around a fire with Annette, Roger, his dad Lasse and Charlotte, one of Harald’s kids, to reminisce and generally chat about Harald under the stars.
It seems that the Friday Fire was a Harald tradition where korv would be grilled and, I assume, beer would be drunk. Having embraced this fine tradition, I have to say it is a quite marvellous idea.
And, along with other thoughts and tales about Harald, Charlotte shared the following story about her dad. My apologies for inaccurate reporting but I have not embellished anything.
It was shortly after they’d arrived from Germany and Harald was busy building a small structure behind the main house. The rest of the family was either out working or at school or doing whatever leaving Charlotte and Harald alone.
Suddenly, there was a knocking at the door and Charlotte went to answer it only to find Harald standing there grasping his thumb, saying he’d sliced the top off and could she help. She did what she could but said he’d have to go to a doctor to get it seen to.
She was too young to drive so poor Harald, hand heavily bandaged with blood seeping through, drove them both to the doctor. After inspecting the wound, the doctor said the wound couldn’t be fixed at the clinic, and he’d have to go to the hospital at Nyköping. The doctor also asked if they had the top of the thumb because, if it was put on ice, it might be reattached.
Charlotte said that was not going to be an option because, as they were frantically trying to staunch the blood, the cat came walking down from the building site, proudly displaying the end of Harald’s thumb in its mouth, as if it had caught and killed the biggest, fattest mouse in the world.
Having shown the humans its prize, the cat then ate it.
We all laughed at lot, remembering other Harald accidents.
I realise everyone in the photo above looks miserable, but that’s only the lack of light. We all enjoyed the memories. Probably just as much as the cat enjoyed Harald’s thumb.
Overall, it was a lovely night and allowed us all to memorialise Harald for the special man that he was.
And Stephanie Cole died today, aged 84. Along with many, many other roles, she played Madame Arcarti in Blithe Spirit when she was 17. An accomplished actor.
