tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60716032008-05-07T01:44:43.002+02:00Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03295603055944507048noreply@blogger.comBlogger548125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-61414879799364718612007-12-07T22:43:00.000+01:002007-12-18T19:15:07.618+01:00

I don't know about you, but lately it seems as though I'm living in perpetual darkness. When I wake up in the morning it's dark. As the day progresses, the sky lightens somewhat to a dirty grey and even if the sun fleetingly appears, it is pale and weak. And by three in the afternoon, it's dark again. When the greyness of November is over and the Christmas lights are twinkling in the increasing

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-33251079743070683922007-12-06T18:14:00.000+01:002007-12-17T23:03:54.355+01:00

Coming as I do from Australia, I'm very much a warm weather person, so it is somewhat cruel that fate sent me a man from a country where reindeer roam free and Santa spends the off season. Today, I'm celebrating the anniversary of my arriving here seven years ago on a dark, cold, grey, misty and blustery winter's day. When I left Adelaide back then, I remember wondering about how cold it

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-91979175079572664102007-12-02T21:07:00.000+01:002007-12-16T22:38:53.505+01:00

I like the season of Advent. It's like a candle lit in the darkness. A reminder that there's still light, love, hope. It's this feeling you've got while anticipating something good and beautiful. It isn't there yet, it hasn't come - but you already know it's there. And you know it will eventually come. And it does not matter anymore when or how. It will come. It's about everything you ever

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-46331330836933988772007-11-30T21:46:00.000+01:002007-12-17T21:12:25.664+01:00

After the disappointment of last Saturday's Motala markets, I was hoping that the ones here in Vadstena would make up for it. I'd read a little about it all being styled on the old medieval markets and that it was held indoors at the castle. The weekend had seen busloads of people descend on the town, so I was guessing that it must have been worthwhile to make the trip. We set off bright and

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-49145810764997119552007-11-28T16:38:00.000+01:002007-12-16T22:36:42.558+01:00

The wind came up in the night. Strong. Cold. The dead leaves of autumn fly ahead of it. The bare branches of the willows and the maples and the aspens protest it. The temperature drops all day, pushing toward the single digits. During the night, the rain has ceased, the low clouds blown away and dispersed by a whipping south-east wind. The day was bright, clear and the morning was pierced by a

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-66729020893783396052007-11-26T11:37:00.000+01:002007-11-27T16:36:02.976+01:00

Yesterday when I woke up, I saw that most of Saturday's snow had melted again and been replaced by hazy rain. But brief though it was, the snow certainly had put me in the mood for Christmas - for baking, wearing warm socks, sipping hot tea and mulled wine and spending cosy evenings curled up in my favourite chair - and of course, going to Christmas markets with their assorted piggies. Pigs seem

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-75035362713137389802007-11-24T17:57:00.000+01:002007-11-26T21:46:11.756+01:00

“Winter came down to our home one night Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow, And we, we were children once again.” ~Bill Morgan, Jr. This morning we woke up to one of those magical winter days of bitter cold, frost and pale, cloudless skies. The sun shone, sending long shadows, but there was little warmth in its rays as the iceman had truly come. Outside of the kitchen

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-13829481716367042662007-11-23T17:15:00.000+01:002007-11-23T17:24:00.704+01:00

I started to beg the minute I heard that the tallest Christmas tree in Europe has been switched on. "The lights on the tallest Christmas tree in Europe are switched on in the city of Porto, Northern Portugal. The theme for this year's tree is "candles" and it will remain on display until January 7 next year." There's a webcam which allows you to see the tree live and it can be found here.

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-5315531866116783612007-11-21T15:33:00.000+01:002007-11-22T22:12:24.910+01:00

An eagle-eyed reader emailed me today and commented on the pictures from the other day at the little café, and exclaimed "Marie, you have new glasses!" Errr...yes, I do, but I never expected anyone to actually notice the fact. They were the last purchase I made before I left Nynäshamn for summer sailing and I didn't write about it at the time because I was too busy with other things and also

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-52445257637142153462007-11-19T13:58:00.000+01:002007-11-19T13:58:51.482+01:00

Today when I woke up, I looked out the window and saw the world shrouded in a white, translucent veil. It was rather surreal sitting in the semi darkness at the kitchen table watching the mist swirl around and see shadowy figures scurrying along the street and pools of vague yellowish light from the street lamps. I immediately started humming a very familiar tune and in an instant I was

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-24213414812040392352007-11-18T19:59:00.000+01:002007-11-18T23:13:38.935+01:00

Honestly, who needs enemies, when you can have friends who are able to leave the Swedish chill and instead go and sun themselves in Australia for six weeks. And then rub salt into the wound by sending you postcards about having a wonderful time as well as emails with pictures of themselves having a sunset barbeque on the deck of a beachside mansion in the swanky Perth suburb of Cottesloe.

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-18754796954689193072007-11-16T15:17:00.000+01:002007-11-16T19:13:33.867+01:00

Last week I had a conversation with an Australian woman who has been living in Sweden for the last four years and the subject of Christmas came up. She was feeling torn as she tried to weigh up the prickly and pricey problem of who to send a card to this year. In her first year in Sweden, she had sent cards to all of the usual family and friends on her Christmas list. Yes, it was expensive as

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-78332156970654975222007-11-15T17:45:00.000+01:002007-11-15T17:50:14.899+01:00

If you see the following news headline - "Sweden invaded by a plague of Mammoth Crocs", you can remember that we aren't being attacked by one of those super-sized toothy reptiles which Steve Irwin used to wrestle to the ground. We all know in which country that scenario is most likely. No, no. As frightening as that is, in Sweden I'm sorry to say that it's very much worse than you think and

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-59150418132809132652007-11-14T10:52:00.000+01:002007-11-15T16:30:23.921+01:00

Four years ago today, on a cold, grey November morning, I made my first tentative blog post. My God, who is that man with the short hair in that post? In the beginning I was very hesitant to start blogging. I didn't think there was any way I could come up with much to write about. I guess that fear was unfounded. Lars-Göran encouraged me as I think he hoped I'd share my loud mouthed opinions

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-6068356284621647342007-11-13T17:37:00.001+01:002007-11-13T18:31:27.669+01:00

I don't normally post blog memes or quizzes, but Kay from As It Happens nominated my blog in this meme at Poéfrika as a blog with an unusual name. Do you really think so? ;) I thought it was an interesting idea, as I do sometimes wonder how people came to name their blogs. So, have you ever wondered why some blogs are called what they're called? I hope so, because you have just been tagged.

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-34628765557060363052007-11-12T17:02:00.000+01:002007-11-13T15:08:14.665+01:00

"An extra yawn one morning in the springtime, an extra snooze one night in the autumn is all that we ask in return for dazzling gifts. We borrow an hour one night in April; we pay it back with golden interest five months later." -Winston Churchill I try and keep that sentiment in mind as we approach the darkest time of the year here in Sweden. We traded in an extra hour of sleep the other

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-17179353920717957022007-11-10T19:14:00.000+01:002007-11-13T12:28:41.682+01:00

It is no surprise to learn that a road is always less predictable in winter than in warmer weather. Irrespective of whether it's snowy, icy or just wet, the surface always gives relatively less grip than in summer. According to several reports I've recently read, an icy road is: twice as slippery as a snowy road;four times more slippery than a wet road or one that is covered with melting snow;

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-7787888580334539812007-11-06T07:12:00.000+01:002007-11-12T11:33:59.696+01:00

I was thinking today that a lot must have changed in Australia since I left in 2000 and, as is the case with emigrants the world over, the view I have of my home country is increasingly outdated. Whenever I begin a sentence with the words "Well, in Australia..." I'm actually talking about the Australia of seven years ago not the Australia as it is today. I'm very conscious that the gap between my

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-9555582976620811802007-11-04T21:53:00.000+01:002007-11-11T19:08:47.101+01:00

The days are getting shorter; the light glows paler; the wind is colder. You can tell that winter is on the way. This weekend it's Alla helgons dag or All Saints'Day as we would know it and as such, a public holiday. I know that the actual date in the Christian calendar is November 1st, but after a complicated history resulting in them combining both All Souls' Day and All Saints' Day, this

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-2359872435990432432007-11-02T09:56:00.000+01:002007-11-10T23:16:39.440+01:00

When the leaves had left the trees, I would look at them and marvel at the branches. I would always think that the dense bunches of branches in the birch trees were simply bird's nests. I would wonder why birds chose one tree out of the dozens available and why they would all choose that tree rather than spread themselves around for a bit of privacy. Whenever I would see a tree dotted with dark

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-5657990546361731552007-10-31T21:54:00.000+01:002007-11-10T21:41:47.316+01:00

The sun has thankfully made a reappearance today. So I put away my razor blades and cancelled plans to slit my wrists. No it wasn't the nasty strep throat that has plagued me for what seems like weeks which prompted this angst, but rather it was that on Sunday morning we turned our clocks back for winter time. I've come to absolutely dread this changeover. While it's true that you get an extra

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-5284916671265603432007-10-28T09:54:00.000+01:002007-11-09T21:14:41.672+01:00

*cough cough* *gasp* *cough cough* So, does anybody have any idea how hard it is for me to NOT talk? At all? *cough cough* *gasp* *cough cough* I've been horribly ill with a serious case of strep throat that is currently doing the rounds here in Sweden. It began on Lambi's birthday when I had a bit of a sore throat. By the Friday night I was feeling the pits and well, the weekend was a

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-71021817120142540482007-10-24T19:30:00.001+02:002007-11-07T14:24:05.735+01:00

Fresh air is something that I'll never take for granted again. When we were looking for a new apartment, we had a list of "must haves" this time around. I admit we were a bit blue-eyed when we bought our first place together and hadn't fully thought everything through, especially about how it would be to live at street level on a busy main road that the local hoons used as a racetrack. The other

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-44416113955287310962007-10-18T20:37:00.000+02:002007-11-07T12:22:45.655+01:00

Today is a very special day at Chez Nordström. Yes, it's Lambi's birthday and she is the ripe old age of 14 today, which in dog years is .... too many years to count. Actually, that's not really true. I looked at an online dog years calculator on the internet and according to their sums, Lambi is 69 in human years. I'm not sure how reliable this is, but it has to be less dodgy than the simple

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6071603.post-13756475108975805652007-10-14T15:15:00.000+02:002007-11-07T12:19:23.008+01:00

It's been full on with getting the boat ready for the weekend. The snowfall the other day did disappear as fast as it arrived and now there are no signs of it anywhere. The only lingering reminder is the muddy puddles underfoot, left by the melting snow. Very cold artic air will apparently spread southwards from the Arctic next week, which won't be fun, but for now we are back to more autumn

Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04088355577823930786noreply@blogger.com