A-Z of blips

For reasons completely and utterly unknown, it seemed like a really good idea last week to see if I could blip a song I liked by a band beginning with each letter of the alphabet. So 2 and a half weeks later I finally made it to the end and in case you missed any, here they all are with an accompanying Spotify playlist. Enjoy!

A: Aqualung - Strange and Beautiful

B: Blur - Coffee & TV

C: Cure - Lovecats

D: Dinosaur Jr. - Start Choppin'
E: Electrasy - Morning Afterglow
F: Faith No More - Epic
G: Guns 'n' Roses - Patience
H: Hardline - In The Hands Of Time (and also accidentally House of Pain - Jump Around)
I: INXS - Elegantly Wasted
J: Jane's Addiction - Been Caught Stealing
K: K's Choice - Virgin State Of Mind
L: Lit - Miserable
M: Metallica - Enter Sandman
N: Nickelback - Burn It To The Ground
O: Offspring - Self Esteem
P: Primal Scream - Rocks
Q: Queens of The Stone Age - Feel Good Hit Of The Summer
R: Radiohead - Paranoid Android
S: Sultans of Ping - Where's Me Jumper?
T: Terrorvision - Oblivion
U: U2 - Beautiful Day
V: Velvet Underground - Venus In Furs
W: Whale - Hobo Humpin' Slobo Babe
X: XTC - Making Plans For Nigel
Y: Yello - The Race
Z: ZZ Top - Gimme All Your Lovin'

And for the Swedish amongst you and in the pursuit of completeness (although I couldn't find them on Spotify)
Å: Åke Hasselgård - My Melancholy Baby
Ä: Änglagård - Kung Bore
Ö: Örjan Englund - Kärringar ska veta hut

A return... of sorts

Sometimes my capacity for sheer laziness shocks and appalls me.

When I stopped doing #oneaday last month, I didn't actually intend to take a break from posting for quite this long. In fact, I've been surprised at how much I've missed blogging; there have been so many occasions when I've been doing something else, and mentally started writing a post in my head, but without the motivation that came from doing #oneaday, they never made it from my head to my fingers.

I really enjoyed being part of the #oneaday group, and through it have added some lovely people to my twitter-stream. Unfortunately I still don't have the desire to take the challenge back up and place myself under the pressure of 7 day a week entries. What I need is a little bit of motivation to do more without taking all the fun out of it. As of next week, my youngest child will be at daycare for 15 hours a week over 3 days, so my intention is to write something on each of those days. It may not necessarily be on here, but there will be writing of some sort happening.

Fingers crossed I can get over my natural inclination towards indolence and the novelty of having time to myself again after all these years. Otherwise it's just going to be 15 hours of surfing the net, twittering, playing games and drinking coffee.

Actually, that sounds rather good....

Taking a break

Yesterday was my first miss of oneaday after a 50 day run. I'm pretty pleased (and very surprised) at getting so far, but think that it's time to take a break for a week or so. It started out as fun, and a challenge, but has recently descended into being a chore and I have enough daily chores as it is. Not that I've quite run out of things to write about, but my enthusiasm for writing about anything at all has disappeared and that doesn't make for interesting reading. I don't want to give up altogether, and hopefully I'll feel a little better about things in a week or so and can pick up the gauntlet again.

We'll see.

But thanks to everybody who has made the time to read my frequently inane ramblings - I don't think I would have even got this far otherwise.

Not quite what I intended

My original plan for today's #oneaday was to write about a tv programme called 'Simon och Tomas: Design' that is usually shown on Monday evenings. But we turned the tv over to the right channel at the right time, only to be confronted by something called 'Stjärnkockerna' (which I think is sort of a cross between Celebrity Masterchef and that cookery show that Anton du Beke presented, whatever it was called) instead which was something of a disappointment.

We discovered Simon and Tomas not long after we arrived here, and it was the first piece of non-UK or US TV that we really watched. They are a pair of interior designers (similar-ish to Colin and Justin) but Simon is English and only speaks English (and swears a lot in English) most of the time, and of course Tomas is Swedish and speaks - well, Swedish. The bilingual conversations that they have fascinate me, as well as making it easier to keep up with what's being said in Swedish, and they're also quite amusing. And that's without mentioning their two little dogs, or 'the boys' as they call them who go everywhere too and generally cause chaos.

Anyway, as they weren't on this evening, I can't write about them. As you were.




(Sveriges Fulaste Hem -> Sweden's Ugliest Home)

Ice hockey or UFC?

Last night one of Mr.B's colleagues took us to an ice hockey match at the local stadium. Happily we also had use of one of the corporate boxes, so were able to watch in some comfort and with a free cup of coffee.

It wasn't the first ice hockey match I'd ever been to (I went once in the US a few years ago) but to be honest, most of what I know comes entirely from playing EA Hockey on the Megadrive. And the main thing I remember from playing that is that it's ok to fight members of the opposing team. Which is what happened last night. (Not me, the players).

There was a particularly nasty shove by the opposition of one of the home team which left him injured, but for some reason went unpunished. A couple of minutes later someone decided to punish the culprit himself by taking a swing at him and was promptly sent to sit in the corner for 10 minutes to think about what he had done. However the home team's blood was well and truly on the boil by then and it wasn't long before another fight broke out but on a much larger scale than before. I couldn't help but be bewildered at the sight of two men having a full on brawl (helmets and gloves off) whilst 4 match officials just kind of stood and looked on. Apparently that was because they were trying to stop everyone else from joining in - although there were still a couple of other scuffles. The fight went on for at least 5 minutes and the spectators were starting to get a little restless. Eventually the referees put a stop to it and then proceeded to spend even longer deciding on who was going to get punished and by how much. They read a big long list of names and penalties out after that, but it didn't mean an awful lot to me.

Interestingly, the chants that were used wouldn't have been out of place at any English football match. The away supporters were very vocal (and there were quite a few of them considering the distance they had to travel to get there), but I was quite disappointed in the lack of home supporters. To my knowledge, our team are currently near the bottom of the table where they have been languishing over the last few years, and the supporters have got a little frustrated and started to give up on them. Which is a shame as it's times like that when you need your supporters the most. But then, they did play pretty badly so I can kind of understand why. The supporters were also at their most vocal when cheering on the fight which was quite depressing.

Final score: Södertälje SK 2 - Skellefteå AIK 7 (One SSK goal was scored in the first 2 minutes, and one in the last 2. The rest of the time they were mostly fighting and falling over.)

Dinner for one

Too tired to do my ice hockey report justice so that will have to keep till tomorrow. We went back to Mr.B's colleague's house for dinner afterwards, and had a really lovely evening with him and his family. Good food, good wine and good company - what more could anyone ask? 

They introduced us to this fantastic sketch that is a staple fixture on Swedish tv on New Year's Eve (and lots of other places too according to wikipedia). Despite the fact that it stars an English actor, I'd never heard of it before. It's a beautiful and clever piece of vintage comedy and worth 10 minutes of your time:

Tom Tits Experiment

As this week has been half-term, we managed to get in a proper family day out to the Tom Tits Experiment. Shamefully it was the first time we'd been together despite the fact that it's only a 10 minute drive away. Basically, it's one of those hands-on science museums for kids which is nearly as much fun for adults.

We all had a great time, although I did struggle a little bit trying to find the words to explain Newton's 3rd law and Moments to an 8 year old and 5 year old so they could understand it. The 'body' exhibition meant dragging up GCSE Biology from the depths of my memory in which I had shoved it to explain which internal organ was which and where it went. I liked the pickled brain in a jar best, but they were more interested in the plastic models of foetal development and the actual birth process.... happily there were no awkward questions to catch us unawares.

This was by far and away my favourite thing that I saw though:

I asked the youngest at lunchtime what had been her favourite bit so far. Her answer, "The ice cream that we haven't had yet."

We managed to get round everything inside, but we'll be making another trip back in the summer as there's lots of outdoor stuff that obviously wasn't available today (being covered in 3 feet of snow still), including a hot air balloon!

The power of film

There are many films that are extremely powerful and memorable in one way or another, but believe it or not, in this instance I'm actually talking about the Blair Witch Project. I remember vividly going to see it; I was living in Switzerland at the time, but there was one small cinema in town that showed US films with subtitles rather than dubbing. A friend was over for a visit and it seemed like as good a way to spend a Saturday afternoon as any. Unfortunately we would have been better off in the pub. Original? Yes. Scary? Erm.... not really. We spent most of our time giggling at the lazy subtitling - there was one point where the female character screams and swears at one of the others for a good couple of minutes, and what did the subtitles say? 'Non.'

Anyway, it was coming to the end and I was ready to write it off as something of a disappointment (particularly considering the hype) when we came to the last scene. For some reason this image freaked me out, probably more than it should.

So when I turned round this afternoon to find my eldest daughter stood with her face pressed into the corner of the lift I admit it did send a few chills down my spine momentarily. Simply because of a 5 minute piece of film that I last saw 10 years ago.

(She said it was because the lift was smelly and she thought that by sticking her face into the corner she could escape. And nobody hit me over the head while I was looking at her.)

My life in music (part 1)

Inspired partly by Rachel's Temple of Love post last week and heavily influenced by the 'CD CV' feature Mark Radcliffe does sometimes, I present to you some of the stand-out tunes that I can date my life by.  There's even an accompanying Spotify* playlist which I had a great time making this morning, and which could have contained an awful lot more songs.

Stand and Deliver/Take it Easy: These are two of the first songs I ever remember, largely down to having a much older sister who thought it was hugely amusing to teach a 5 year old all the words to the very first Eagles album. As she was a punk at the time, I suspect she knew she would be pushing her luck to teach me to sing along to any of the other music she listened to.

Agadoo/The birdie song/Pass the Dutchie: 3 songs that launched a thousand children's birthday parties. Not a high point to be fair.

Love in the First Degree: We could spend hours pretending to be Bananarama and making up rubbish dance routines. Happily this phase didn't last too long thanks to...

Hot in the City/Paradise City: The same sister who indoctrinated me with The Eagles as a small child also introduced me to rock music when I neared my teenage years. She very kindly copied some of her vinyl onto cassette for me (yes, it was that long ago) which I had to hide from my parents. My mother walking into my room right at the sweary bit of 'Mr Brownstone' got us both into a lot of trouble, but it was worth it.

The Final Countdown/China in your Hand: For some reason I had a tape with Europe on one side and T'Pau on the other and I listened to them both far more than is actually healthy.

Money for Nothing/Poisoning Pigeons: These were courtesy of the record collection of my friend's dad and we spent many Sunday afternoons listening to Dire Straits and playing cards. Tom Lehrer was more reserved for singing in the van on the way to one of our frequent camping trips.

Harvest for the World/Another Day in Paradise: These were the first two albums that I ever bought with my own money. I'll be your baby tonight was the first cassette single I ever bought, I think because it was in the bargain bin (at least I hope that was the reason).

Time of my life: I remember vividly going to a sleepover with a load of friends and watching Dirty Dancing for the first time.

The Time Warp/Should I stay or should I go: Listening to these takes me back to secondary school discos and sweet sixteen parties. Mostly good memories...

Dizzy/Sit Down/Birdhouse in your soul/Mmm mmm mmm mmm: Inextricably linked with 6th form college and sneaking off to the pub at lunchtime with boys who had floppy hair.

Purple Haze: My first serious boyfriend who forbade me to speak while Hendrix was playing. He was also into Sepultura at the time, but I tried not to listen to that.

Caravan of Love/We are Family: We used both of these in 6th form productions. Best thing about being in the music & drama department was being told indirectly by one of our teachers that if we put Bacardi into a can of coke, nobody would know that we were drinking.

Two Princes: My year out working and living away from home for the first time. This was the favourite song of one of my housemates'. I think I probably drank too much to remember anything else.

The playlist has a few more that aren't mentioned here - no particular memories associated with them, but they're very much of their time.
Post-1994 music will come another day.

*If you don't have Spotify and would like it, send me your email address as I have a spare invite or two.

What's brown and sticky?

Ever noticed how you can have the same conversation multiple times with a straight face and then on the 25th time all of a sudden it is quite the most hysterical thing in the world?

This happened to me at tea-time this evening, all because of this:

And yes, I am more than 7 years old.*

I had bought the girls some miniature bars as a treat and as a result Mr.B had one of those 'things I never thought I'd say' moments when he told one of them, "If you don't finish your tea then I'll eat your Plopp." Things snowballed from there and I ended up in the serious giggles, tears rolling down my face and unable to breathe. But the funniest part? The kids had absolutely no idea why I was laughing so much (the only thing Plopp means to them is horrible gooey chocolatey caramel stuff) yet they giggled along with me anyway. Ok, maybe they were giggling at me, but still.

*(Although at times you may think otherwise. The correct answer to the joke in the title if you didn't already know is: a stick - one of the few jokes that always stupidly makes me laugh like a drain whenever I tell it to someone who hasn't heard it before.)

A bad day

Today I am having a bad day. Ok, I know that in the grand scheme of things it's actually nowhere near being a proper bad day, more of a string of petty annoyances, but I find myself less equipped than usual to deal with them in an adult fashion. Don't worry, I'm not going to bore you further with a detailed list of things that have gone wrong (and because if I did I would be forced to confront just how trivial they really are).

Anyway, the consequence is that I have more to do than time to do it in, so reluctantly I've had to admit that this is the least important thing on the list, and will not be doing a proper #oneaday entry today. Hopefully I will have pulled myself together by tomorrow...

Happy St. David's Day.

Worth a read and other things

Interesting thing, habit. I'd kind of got into a routine of posting my oneaday stuff late at night, often in a hurry to get it done so I could go to bed - for no other real reason than it usually takes me that long to think of something to say. So when yesterday I ended up writing and posting much earlier in the day, it kind of threw my evening out. I was left with one of those nagging feelings that I ought to be doing something else besides watching tv and I just couldn't shake it. That aside, there was a certain amount of satisfaction to have got it over and done with and out of the way. Hence my attempt to repeat this today.

Although it doesn't make for much of an actual blogpost, I have been enjoying doing a 'worth a read' roundup of the week - although I do read as many of the posts as I can each day, I quite like having a Sunday catch-up. And Google Reader makes it that much easier.

Anyway, without further ado, here you are:

A Grandia Tale by Lauren (because I still have my PC copy of Grandia somewhere in storage and now want to play it again)
These are the sheep that I walk past to and from work every day by Sean
Feeling sexy by Chris
Cheescake Brownies by Jennifer (because they sound so damn good)
Tolkein: why I don't hate him like you do by Jazmeister
Temple of Love by Rachel
Demystifying games by Chris
I <3 by Daniel

This week has obviously been a good week, and it was actually quite tricky to pick these ones out - there were a lot more I could have added.

Oh, and can I just mention, for those very kind people who have added me to their blogrolls, my name is Kirsty. Not Katy (due to a misread very early on in the life of #oneaday I suspect).

I've started so I'll finish

When it comes to games, my perseverance has been somewhat lacking recently. I'm gradually wearing Mr.B down in my attempts to persuade him to let me buy a 360 and/or PS3, but don't feel like I can totally justify it until I've completed more of the games I've got for the consoles we already have.

Christmas left me with a huge stack of games thanks to gifts and a trip round a 2nd hand games shop where I just bought a load of random stuff because it was cheap. Some of which weren't even worth the £1.99 I paid for them, but that's besides the point.

My list of owned but unfinished games currently looks like this:

PS2
Dark Chronicle
XIII
The Da Vinci Code
Atelier Iris 3
Persona 3
LoTR The Third Age
LoTR Fellowship of the Ring
FF XII
Myst III

Wii
Zack&Wiki
CSI Hard Evidence
Tunguska

DS
Scribblenauts
My Sims Kingdom

Mac
Fable (the Lost Chapters)
C&C Tiberium Wars

I suspect the problem is that I don't have the time or concentration usually to pick one game and play it often enough so I keep forgetting where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing when I do play them. And some of them have just failed to grab me altogether. I did finally manage to complete Zelda Spirit Tracks last night, so need to pick one to get on with next. Most likely Fable or FFXII - depends whether I can kick Mr.B off the PS2 (he is addicted to Need for Speed Underground) for long enough...

Nordic Walking

After my trip there this afternoon, I wanted to write today's post on the Systembolaget, but was a little concerned that it had the potential to turn into another rant so I'll save it for another day. Instead I just wanted to mention the phenomenon that is Nordic Walking.

We see loads of people doing this round and about, mostly older people, quite often in couples, and it has fascinated me since we arrived. I don't know how much benefit there is to it but they all look quite fit and healthy when they're jauntily striding down the road, so I'm quite tempted to give it a shot. Mind you, strolling down a path that is narrowed from the snow with an old lady determinedly nordic walking towards you can actually be quite intimidating. I jumped into the snow out of the way just in case - those sticks are not supposed to have spikes on the bottom as far as I know, but there's no accounting for what home modifications these innocent looking white haired little old ladies might have done...

Here's a short semi-related video that made me giggle at the end:

'Forced' maternity leave

I read this post by Sweden's EU minister Birgitta Ohlsson earlier this evening and found myself rather frustrated.

Whilst it is admirable that gender equality is such an issue in Sweden, it often feels to me like things have been pushed too far in the opposite direction, to the detriment of women's choices rather than their advancement. Childcare provision is excellent and affordable, which gives women the ability to return to work after having children without too much difficulty - unlike in the UK where childcare is sometimes prohibitively expensive. However, instead of encouraging women to return to work if they wish, rather they are actively discouraged from staying at home to the point where it is almost socially unacceptable to do so. Frequently on official forms the only options are for working/studying/jobseeker/parental leave; there is no tick box that a full-time stay-at-home parent fits in. It may be that a mother staying at home to care for her children is a traditional gender stereotype, but that does not automatically make it wrong. And there is no reason why a man cannot be a stay at home parent either - if they decide that is how they wish to raise their children. But this choice has been virtually taken out of the equation, and that to me is not progress. Birgitta Ohlsson does not want women to be forced into staying at home, she apparently just wants them to be forced into employment instead so they can pay tax, regardless of their wishes.

The main issue of the article deals with compulsory maternity leave for the first 6 weeks after a baby is born. The maternity/paternity leave system here in Sweden is a vast improvement over that in the UK, with it being longer and also allowed to be shared between the parents as suits them, giving the fathers just as much opportunity to spend time with their child as the mother. But whatever you like to think, men do not actually suffer any physical side effects from the birth of a child, and the first few weeks are much less important for them than they are for the mother. Ohlsson has stated that she intends to return to work within a month of giving birth. When the time comes, if she feels like she can then that's great. Unfortunately right now she obviously has absolutely no idea of what is in store. Any new mother will tell you that the first few weeks are difficult. Your hormones are reeling, and unless you are very lucky, you will also most likely be suffering from sleep deprivation. And that's assuming that the birth itself is straightforward with no lasting physical effects, and not even taking breastfeeding and the possibility of PND into consideration.

I don't think the issue should be of the women who are going to 'suffer' from not being allowed to return to work in the first 6 weeks, rather it should be about the women who will be protected from being compelled perhaps by an uncaring employer or spouse to return to work immediately if they are not ready to. One situation will not likely cause harm, the other could prove to be extremely harmful. Whether 6 weeks is an appropriate length of time I don't know, but I believe there should definitely be a set period of 'compulsory' maternity leave for just these reasons. And let's not forget that this is not just an issue affecting Sweden, it is an EU law that is under discussion and not all other countries in the EU necessarily have such an 'enlightened' view on gender equality as Sweden.

Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to say that all women should stay at home with their children, rather that either parent should have the choice if the opportunity is there. Not everybody can afford to live on one salary, but people should not be stigmatised by the choices that they make. Isn't that what liberation is about? Giving people the freedom of choice.

Sporting allegiances

Before we moved over to Sweden, one of Mr.B's colleagues gave him a bright yellow 'Sverige' t-shirt just so he would know who to support when we got here. And moving to a new country does give a certain sense that you should be cheering them on in their sporting ventures as it would be rude not to. The difficulty comes when your home country team comes up against your adopted country - who do you cheer for then?

We didn't expect it to be much of an issue for a while as Sweden didn't qualify for the football World Cup, and wouldn't necessarily have played against England even if they had. But then came the Winter Olympics. We've taken an interest in both Great Britain and Sweden as they've been going on and haven't begrudged Sweden their 8 medals to GB's 1. But now it's the acid test - Sweden and Team GB are currently going head-to-head in a tense playoff for the last place in the men's curling semi-finals and all of a sudden we have to pick our allegiances.

I'm wondering if it's wrong to just cheer on whoever is winning at the time...

(But on Saturday, regardless of who is skiing from Britain or Sweden, we shall be cheering on Ghana and the Snow Leopard in the Men's Slalom.)

Braid (in which I pretend to write a review)

Not very well today with something that may or may not be Vinterkräksjuka so am cheating a little and using the sort-of review I wrote on Braid because of Spriteclub.
I'm doing so rather reluctantly, as so many of the #oneadayers are proper games reviewers and this bears no resemblance to something they would probably write. Anyway, here goes (with fingers crossed none of them read it).

For anyone who has never come across it, I would describe Braid as a kind of puzzle platformer where time goes both forwards and backwards.
I can sum it up in two words:

Original
Frustrating

The frustration does of course mean that it is incredibly rewarding when you finally work out how to do a level, but I'm not entirely convinced that the payoff is always worth the frequent temptation to throw the computer out of the window. I don't really understand the relevance of the story but then I never did get to the end so maybe it makes more sense the further you get through.

The whole being able to rewind if you get killed is a great concept, and the fluidity of time and motion varying with each level stops it from getting repetitive. I like the style and artwork but can't comment on the music as I only ever played it with the sound off. It's a good enough game that having played the first few levels on the demo I was really keen to buy the full version. Maybe I'll eventually complete it, some time around 2015.

Struggled for a while trying to decide what score to give. In so many ways it should be a 9, but in the end the aggravation with certain levels was just too much - it almost took it down to a 7, but the fact that you don't have to complete every single level in a world before unlocking the next one rescued it up to a final well-deserved 8.

When internal debates go wrong

My lovely Swedish teacher decided to give us extra homework half way through this week in the form of preparing a discussion of an article about women having babies at 60 years old. The fact that we were barely able to talk in basic sentences about ourselves last week without resorting to English is presumably besides the point.

Naturally I decided to work out my discussion points in English first, but this proved to be more difficult than I expected. Obviously a simple statement against it was not going to be enough, but for every reason behind my stance I found I could think of a fairly legitimate counter-point. Things that would have seemed clear-cut to me 10 years ago, now were much fuzzier. Which did make me question whether what I was thinking was actually right. I was originally going to write a post detailing all these points and opposing arguments in the hopes that it would clarify things for me, but unfortunately it didn't and I ended up tying myself in knots.

I admit my opinions are influenced by my own life - whilst my mother was not incredibly old when I was born by today's standards, in the 1970's she was. Maybe I was just an unpleasant child, but I will always remember being horribly embarrassed when I was young by my white haired mum and dad and hated being constantly asked if they were my grandparents. And though I loved them dearly, the generation gap was immense and despite trying, my mother often struggled with relating to the way things were for me as a teenager. She grew up in the second world war, left school at 13 to work in t'mill, and was married with a child by the time she was 20 - all perfectly normal for her generation, and worlds apart from mine. Although as I got older the generation gap did diminish quite a lot and I relied on and valued her knowledge and experience a tremendous amount, especially when I had a family of my own.

So my final answer to the discussion point ready for tomorrow? Jag tycker att det är inte bra för kvinnor att bli mammor 60 år gammal, men det är ett personligt val.

If you disagree, then that's fine. I can probably tell you all your arguments anyway.

Worth a read round-up of the week

In case you haven't had time to read all the #oneaday blogs this week, here are a few you really should not miss:

A cautionary tale by @cidergirli

One a day by Jazmeister (Almost entirely for one sentence in the last paragraph which made me smile)

Rudeness, favours and karma by @sorayaleila

The trouble with cinemas by @Rhiarti

And you should definitely read this and this by Chris about the future of #oneaday if you haven't already.

The S-word

The temperature here today was -13C (windchill took it down to -22C) so that combined with a poorly child made us decide to stay in and have a DVD weekend with all 4 Indiana Jones films. 1st two done today, 2nd two will be tomorrow as I don't expect any improvement in the weather. Hopefully the medium-sized girl will be a bit brighter though.
There has also been constant snow all afternoon and evening, so please excuse the repetition of a frequent moan, but I'VE HAD ENOUGH. All I want to do right now is jump on a plane to anywhere at all that has no snow. If I wanted to live in a country that had subzero temperatures and snow for 3 months of the year I would have moved to Siberia. /endofrant

Evening has been passed drinking the odd bottles of beer left in the fridge and playing Zelda Spirit Tracks - as usual I knew that it was time to call it a day when I was beginning to shout at it for taking too many attempts just to do one little part of a dungeon. Now I'm writing this and laughing at Mr.B constantly swearing at Need for Speed Underground. He too has reached that point but hasn't accepted that it's time to give in gracefully for the night yet.

Perceptions

Since moving abroad, I've come across some interesting perceptions that other countries have about the British. Not so much from the Swedes (the only thing they've ever commented on is England's inability to deal with snow), but just before Christmas I was talking to the Polish mother of one of my daughter's friends. She was asking me what I was looking forward to about going back to England, and when I only half-jokingly said 'the food', she looked really surprised and replied, "But the food in England is really terrible isn't it?" I confess I found myself struck entirely speechless by this blunt response, and only managed to muster a half-hearted defense. It wasn't helped by the fact that what I was mostly missing consisted of things like proper chips and nothing which would be considered a shining example of British cuisine.

This subject came up again earlier this week, when one of the Brazilians in my conversation class asked perfectly seriously, "But isn't English food all just meat and potatoes?" And the worst thing was, all the other people around the table were nodding in agreement! She was also convinced that all English people are obsessed with the Queen and was actually quite disappointed to be told that we weren't.

It appears that those trying to champion British cookery abroad have some large way to go just yet.

A lull

As anybody who's read my posts from the last couple of days will probably have noticed, I'm going through a bit of a #oneaday lull right now. Not that I haven't got a smattering of things to write about tucked away on one of my various lists, but none of them are particularly interesting to me at the moment, and therefore the words don't want to play nicely.

However, I'm determined not to give up just yet. I started this process to work on my self-discipline of writing something every day, and hopefully improve the nonsense that I do write. Whether or not that is happening I don't know, but I've impressed myself at the number of consecutive days I've actually managed to post something on here. Even if on occasion it has been the height of utter drivel.

So you're not getting rid of me just yet. And if you haven't read Chris' post on the continuation of #oneaday then you should. It's far more interesting than this.

Untitled

No title for this post, because there's no theme. Feeling particularly 'meh' right now, so here's a few random nuggets from the day.

- Swedes are known for not being very sociable in the winter, so it looks like Spring might actually be on the way. The old man from downstairs spoke to me in the lift this morning. He very kindly spoke slowly and in simple words so I could understand what he said, and I actually managed to respond with 3 whole words in Swedish.

- It's been snowing again all day today, and the weather forecast is predicting the same for another 8 days which is adding to the depression. Even the kids are starting to get bored of the weather now.

- Played XIII on the PS2 for the first time this evening; loved the style, but struggled immensely with the controls. It's a very very long time since I last played a first person shooter type thing, so hopefully with a bit of perseverance I might improve and not die every five minutes.

- Never underestimate how much excitement can be generated by the simple act of making biscuits and cutting them out with animal shape cutters with 3 small sous-chefs.

- My youngest will be starting dagis (preschool) in April for 15 hours a week, which means that I will have some time to myself for the first time really since the middle one arrived. She can't wait to go; I'm torn between being hugely excited and incredibly sad that my last baby is not a baby any more.

Goodnight.

Conversations

First Swedish conversation class was today. Not quite as bad as I expected (after sulking round the flat like a stroppy teenager who doesn't want to go school this morning) - I really thought I would be the least capable of stringing a sentence together after my performance in recent weeks, but I surprised myself with what I managed to come out with. And I was by no means the least able there, not the best, but not the worst.

I am in awe of the other ladies in the group though. There are 2 Brazilians, a Bulgarian, and a Dutch woman. The fact that they are all managing to learn Swedish via English rather than from their first language made me feel incredibly inadequate. I comfort myself with the fact that my Swedish accent is better though. (At least I think it is.)

Next week we have to talk about our hobbies. I should probably find one that's more interesting than 'playing on the internet' between now and then I guess.

Sacrifice

When I was 8, one of my best friends lived in the street behind ours. Each week we'd club together our pocket money and buy sweets and little bottles of Ben Shaw's fizzy pop which we would then hide in a gap in the hedge at the bottom of our garden for the day and raid every so often while we were playing. There was always a packet of Parma Violets in the stash which I secretly loathed (and still do), but went along with as they were her favourites.

A couple of years ago we were chatting, and this came up in conversation. "We always used to have to have Parma Violets," she said. "I hated them, and only got them because you liked them."

The moral of the story? If you're going to make sacrifices for your friends, make sure that they're actually necessary first.

#oneaday blog posts of the week

I could have written something about Valentines Day, but it wouldn't really be that interesting. So instead, here are some links to just a few of the stand-out #oneaday blogposts I've read this week.

Silence is Golden by @jenjeahaly

Things I cannot do #2 by @Jam_Sponge

Blog #44 by @matmurray

Midnight Manouvres by @Rhiarti

My problem with... Facebook by @adamenglebright

The man who gave me my laugh by @strybe

Sweet disposition by @SchillingC

Go away and read them. And all the rest.

228 days

228 days. That's how long we've been living in this apartment and I'm starting to feel every minute of it. Don't get me wrong, the place itself is not actually that bad as they go, and I have nothing against flats in themselves, but I've just had enough.

The last time I lived in a flat was pre-children, and was in a shiny new complex at the Royal Victoria Dock in London. I quite liked it there, despite the couple upstairs who argued very loudly all the time; and being under the flight path for City Airport which meant you couldn't hear the tv every time a plane came over. But then I was in the pub (which was actually a boat, in the dock outside - best local ever) most of the time anyway and my flatmate was at work or away, so it didn't really matter.

Living in an apartment with kids is an entirely different matter though. It's one thing having limited space and no garden when there's only 2 of you, but quite another when there's 5 of you. Having to pre-book the laundry for one half-day slot a week is a huge pain as well. The people living directly above us are quite noisy - they have a child who runs around in hob-nailed boots every night at about 9pm, and what sounds like it must be a rowing machine that is in use at 6am and 10pm every day. And then there's the electric guitar that appeared last weekend. Someone somewhere else in the building has a drum kit which thankfully seems to have been broken since the summer.

All of which makes me overly paranoid about how loud we must be to the people living directly below us, and I seem to spend all day telling the children not to run around and to keep the noise down to a respectable level. Not that they're that bad, they just get carried away with whatever game they're playing and forget. So it really irritates me that I'm so conscientious about not disturbing our neighbours but other people don't give a monkey's. I mean really - an electric guitar and drumkit? I don't worry so much about the people next door as they have a newborn and the only time I've heard it has when I've actually been outside on the landing waiting for the lift.

It does provide amusement at times - we get a great view of what's going on in the street; and then the other evening, a woman from upstairs got out of the lift on the wrong floor and tried to unlock our front door with her key about 3 times till I opened it and just looked at her and smiled. I've been convinced I was going to do the same thing since we moved here so I'm glad it was her and not me. The endless hot-water and the ease of only having to pay one bill a month (rent includes electricity, heating, internet, tv and everything else) has been really useful too.

Having said all that, I'm now going to go away and nurse the guilt that I feel after we spent 2 whole afternoons in a row playing Guitar Hero with drums. Please cross everything you have that we find a house soon - the next piece of noise-making equipment upstairs brings back might just send me postal....

Usernames

The origins of my username are sadly prosaic - kirtle is just part of a nickname that one of my sisters has called me for years.
Years ago in the early days of my internet usage when we spent many hours in telnet talkers, I was originally known as Titus (Gormenghast was one of my favourite books at the time) but changed that to Fuschia (Gormenghast again) due to the unfortunate side effect that when sending direct messages you didn't have to write the person's full name, so Titus was inevitably abbreviated to Tit which caused immense hilarity amongst the teenage boys.
When I signed up for my first yahoo email address, kirtle was what jumped into my head and that it what I have used for pretty much everything online ever since. It's sad, but I almost identify as much with being kirtle as being Kirsty.

So where does your username come from?

Cafe latte cookies

Being the eternal teacher's pet that I am, I've decided to take in some fika for my last Swedish lesson this afternoon. And this is what I made:



(The recipe below is from Anne's Food - I heartily recommend checking out some of her other recipes too)

Makes about 30

220 g butter, at room temperature
125 g brown sugar
125 g sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
275 g flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
30 g cocoa powder
1 tsp instant coffee
150 g dark chocolate, finely chopped
150 g white chocolate, finely chopped

Beat butter and both sugars until the mixture is fluffy and feels light. Add eggs and vanilla, and beat well. Mix the flour with salt and baking soda, and stir this into the cookie dough.
Now, remove half of the dough and place in a separate bowl. Add cocoa powder, instant coffee and dark chocolate to one of the bowls, and the white chocolate to the other bowl.
Scoop about 1 tbsp of each cookie dough, and place together on a baking sheet. Make sure to leave a lot of room between each cookie - I could fit about 10 on one cookie sheet.
Bake at 175°C for 8-10 minutes.

They taste awesome, and I certainly won't be taking them all with me!

Snow

I am so bored with snow now. It started snowing 2 months ago, and none of it has gone yet as the temperatures have been constantly sub-zero ever since (except for a couple of days last week when they reached the dizzy heights of 1C). There's so much that they've run out of places to put it when they clear the paths and roads, and dirty snow is piled up everywhere you look. Every now and then some of it gets scooped up into tipper trucks and taken away to who knows where (maybe they're selling it to the Canadians), but they're fighting a losing battle. Happily, what was forecasted for this week hasn't arrived apart from a few flurries this morning, but they're promising more next week.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate everything about the snow; when it first arrived it made things seem so much brighter after the dim and dark November we had; when you go out into the countryside the trees and fields look so pretty; and it's great fun taking the kids sledging at a weekend. Living in this apartment means that it's always warm indoors, and going out in the cold is a great excuse for hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows when you get back home.

I'm fed up with getting cold toes every time I go anywhere despite my fluffy socks. It takes at least 20 minutes just to get out of the door by the time everyone has put on their snowsuits or salopettes, jumpers, coats, hats, earmuffs, scarves, gloves and boots; and then the reverse process when we get in takes just as long plus you have to find space for all the wet things on the radiators. It will be nice not to have to have soggy newspaper in the hall for people to leave their wet boots on, and not get snow pushed down the back of my trousers by 4 year olds who think it's hysterically amusing every single time.

Most of all, I'm looking forward to being able to see something that's not white out of the window. I miss green.

The weatherman [video]

Not much of a blog today, feeling somewhat grumpy even though the forecasted snow has thankfully never materialised. Watching this cheered me up though - there should be more weathermen like this around.

Analysing the #oneaday bloggers

No, not that kind of analysis - although I'm sure there's plenty there for a shrink to get their teeth into. Around about the time that Mass Effect 2 came out, I noticed that a lot of the #oneaday blogs I read regularly contained a lot of posts that were games-related, which made me wonder just what kind of subjects were the most popular. So, being a sucker for anything that I can put in a spreadsheet (sad, I know) I decided to go through them all and see.

It was one of those things that seems like a really good idea at the time, and then when you get half way through you realise that you were obviously not quite in your right mind when you thought of it. And of course by then you've invested too much time and effort and have to carry on to the bitter end.

So today I went through everyone's blogs and put the posts into categories that were arbitrarily and vaguely defined by criteria that exist solely in my head, and here are the results:

No. of bloggers: 43
Total no. of posts (as of this morning): 1141
Gaming: 21%
Film/TV/music/books: 15%
Personal anecdotes and stories: 27%
Opinion/rants: 11%
#oneaday/blogging: 6%
Sport: 2%
Misc: 18%

There are also at least 25 desk-related posts included in one of those categories that I probably should have separated out into their very own, but didn't think about it until it was too late and then couldn't be bothered to go back and alter the numbers. I don't know what the results actually tell us about the people in the #oneaday network, but I feel better for knowing them.

It was actually quite enjoyable to read through a lot of what has been written - there are some incredibly talented people in the network. Some of the blogs made me laugh, some made me cry, they were informative, fascinating, and occasionally bewildering. I was also very impressed at the number of people who have lasted this far. I confess, I never expected to make it past a week or maybe two. But here I still am.

No sleep till Monday

There's something about Sunday nights. Inevitably, I find myself sitting up till the early hours of the morning, for no particular reason except that I just don't want to go to bed. Whether it's a reluctance to let go of the weekend, or a subconscious desire to postpone Monday morning for as long as possible, I have no idea. Whatever the reason, I can always find 101 things to do to delay matters. And even if I do decide to have an 'early' night on a Sunday, I cannot settle and end up getting up again. All of which leads to me being even more tired and grumpy on a Monday, which is a grumpy day for most people anyway.

You could be forgiven for assuming that it's because I have a lie-in on a Sunday morning which scrambles my body-clock. It's true, I did today, but usually Sundays are my turn to get up with the children at whatever godforsaken hour of the morning they decide they're going to wake up and start playing some game that involves lots of giggling.

I've just turned over and found that the Superbowl is being shown. I have no interest whatsoever in American football (there was a few months when I was around 10 that I found it fascinating for some reason and decided I would support the Miami Dolphins, but it didn't last long) - what's the betting that I'll watch the coverage to the end at a scary 4.30am, just because it's on?

This post comes to you with thanks to the inestimable @Cerithomas for encouraging me to get on with it when I couldn't get past the first line.

Better late than never?

It's fast approaching 2am, and I should obviously be in bed. Instead, I'm sat here with a large glass of wine, frantically trying to think of something to put in this blog so I don't miss a day for the first time (the rules do say that the day doesn't end till you go to bed, right?).
The reason being, having discovered that there was nothing on the tv (except an old episode of Silent Witness/Tyst Vitne that we've seen before) and being incredibly annoyed at the numpty upstairs playing the electric guitar, it of course made perfect sense to start playing Fable - the Lost Chapters which arrived in the post yesterday from one of my lovely sisters. That was 5 hours ago, and I've only just come up for air.
The stupid thing is, I can't even tell you 100% that I actually like the wretched game. I loved it at the beginning, and I was liking it again at the end, but there was an hour or so when I was just doing seemingly pointless (and difficult) quests that I was starting to wonder whether it was worth bothering with. Happily, after 2 hours of being really rubbish at fighting, I've finally got to the next bit of story and things feel like they're back on track.
There was a great little werewolf mini-plot which made me think of playing Doom years and years ago, as I had headphones in (to drown out the aforementioned guitar) and every time I thought I'd killed it I could suddenly hear it growling behind me. Think I know what I'll probably be dreaming about tonight.
Will I play it again tomorrow? Quite likely. Although I shall be happier when I find out what happened to all the new magic spells that I learnt which then promptly vanished when I actually wanted to use them.

The Gathering Storm (part 2)

I finally finished reading The Gathering Storm a few days ago. The impression I got was something of a whirlwind with how much actually happened, particularly when compared to say books 8-10. There was a noticeable difference in style in the later parts of the book, which was sometimes good as things were moving along and it was also quite easy to read, but also occasionally a little dissatisfying as events were wrapped up in the space of a couple of pages, when they could possibly have done with taking a whole chapter - almost feeling rushed. Maybe that's just because I had got used to the style of the preceding few books where they at times felt unnecessarily padded out, but there was sometimes a sense of unseemly haste.
On the whole though, I did enjoy the book. Plenty of storylines have finally got to where they were going; things are beginning to be explained; and my love for the series has been renewed somewhat - I'm waiting for the next one slightly impatiently anyway.
Overall, I guess I'd give it something around 7.5/10. Half a point of which is for a beautifully resolved minor plotline that I won't explain as that would spoil it.

Unoriginally entitled 'Desk'

By the time the rash of 'desk' oneadays came out yesterday, my own post had long been written; but as unusually today I'm actually sitting at a desk while I write this, I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon even if it is a day late.

However, I'm feeling particularly lazy right now and still have a headache, so here's a photo of it instead of a beautifully crafted description as some of the other bloggers did.



If a picture really is worth a thousand words then that probably makes this one of my longest blogposts yet.

Getting older

It's finally here. Today is the day that I can no longer hang on by my fingernails to the illusion of being in my early 30's, but am firmly ensconced in the realms of a middle thirty-something.
Yet I don't really feel any older or more grown-up than I did when I was in my early twenties. Despite all the trappings of adult-hood (husband, kids, mortgage), I'm mentally still somewhere around 23. Which means it can prove to be a bit of a shock every now and then when I look in the mirror and see the ever increasing number of grey hairs on my head and the very faint laughter/frown lines on my forehead. Not that there's anything wrong with feeling young, and I certainly don't want to feel old, but I would be grateful to start developing some of the wisdom and sense that's supposed to come with age.

Time for me to go and eat doughnuts with #3 and then have a go with Tiberian Sun that my SiL sent. Later I shall play Zelda on my other birthday present (the DSi) and eat chocolate.

See? I've got this grown-up thing down to a fine art.

Headaches

I distinctly remember the first time I ever got a migraine. I was about 8 years old, and we were on holiday somewhere down south. After much nagging, my parents had finally been persuaded to take me to a amusement park for the first time and we were in the car on the way there. All of a sudden, my excitement turned to total panic when I realised that I couldn't see properly and had a huge blind spot right in the middle of my vision. Everything goes a bit vague after that, I presume my mother had an idea what was going on, as rather than rushing to the nearest hospital we carried on to the theme park where I spent the day alternately being sick and sleeping in their medical room.
The other very memorable time was when I was at secondary school, and had a nightmare trying to convince the school secretary that I needed to go home - she was obviously labouring under the impression that migraines were something that only adults got, and was incredibly huffy when I had to ask her to help me walk to the door to be picked up because by that time I couldn't see a thing.

So after 25-ish years of them, I've kind of got used to the whole 'Can't see any more, got to go to bed' thing. Generally, I get the aura as a warning, so if I'm lucky I can have taken some painkillers and jumped into bed to be asleep before the headache starts; thus missing most of the pain altogether.
The worst bit though is not the headache, as that only lasts a few hours; it's the hangover I get for two or three days afterwards. My head feels like it's full of cotton wool with a dull ache, my brain goes even slower than usual, I want to sleep all the time, and if it's been a particularly bad one, my speech can be slow and slurred so that I just sound drunk. I know people who suffer with the actual migraine much worse than me though so I'm thankful for small mercies.

It also means that I can't look at a computer screen for very long, so if I'm quiet over the next few days then you'll know why.

Washing day poetry

Monday laundry day bad poetry.

There once was a washing machine
That made all the clothes very clean.
"Please stop me!" it cried
As it tumbled and dried;
"This sock has made everything green."
--------------------------------------
Today I must wash
Tvättrum is too far away
Need to use the lift.
--------------------------------------
Lots of clothes
Awaiting in the pile.
Unless I get them clean,
Nobody can get dressed.
Dirty clothes will smell,
Red t-shirts and
Yellow socks.
--------------------------------------
I wish someone would invent
A machine that folds and puts away.
Something I could rent
To save me time on laundry day.
Such a device would be heaven sent
And lots of money would I pay.

How far would you go?

Over the last couple of days I've been reading a book by Peter James called 'Dead Tomorrow'. It's a tale of Romanian street children being kidnapped and killed to provide organs to transplant patients in the UK (and elsewhere), and it gave me pause for thought.

One of the central characters is a woman with a terminally ill teenage daughter who is in desperate need of a liver transplant. After being let down by the NHS, and fearing for her daughter's life, she turns to the internet and contacts an international organ broker. Despite knowing that a number of dead bodies have turned up in the area minus their organs, she shuts her mind off to the possibility and chooses to believe what she is told - that the liver will come from a donor who has died in an accident abroad.

Reading it did make me consider just how far I would go if it were a matter of the life or death of one of my children. I like to think that I would never consider buying an organ on the black market, knowing that it would mean someone else's unnecessary demise, but it's easy to say that sitting here with 3 perfectly healthy children sound asleep in their beds. Obviously I hope I'm never in that position, but I can imagine being prepared to do just about anything to give my girls a chance of survival. Would I descend to such desperate measures though?

How far would you go to save your child's life?

Birthday fika

As my birthday is mid-week this year, Mr.B took me out for birthday fika here today:



For those of you who haven't been following me on twitter for the last 6 months and don't already know, fika is a Swedish word which basically means to have cake & coffee. It's a little more complex than that though; for a start, it's not really something you do on your own, and conveys an element of socialising, whether that's with just one friend or an entire office of people. It's quite a large part of Swedish society, and a custom we've been more than happy to adopt since coming here! And the place is Taxinge Slott, or as it's more commonly known, the 'Cake Castle'.

As it was (nearly) my birthday, I treated myself to a serious piece of Sachertorte:



It was tough going, and I nearly didn't make it, but I did eventually manage to get through to the other side.



Our original intention was to go for a walk down by the lake afterwards, but the fact that it was -18C and the paths were knee deep in snow persuaded us that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea. Plan B was to have a drive up the road to Mariefred to see if the lake was frozen, and it most certainly was - there are some photos of it on Flickr. It was only -14C up there, so we did manage a quick walk round (didn't dare venture across the ice though, despite the fact that there were footprints in the snow), but then hurried back to the car and home to warm up with a proper English cup of tea (actually, the tea came from Ireland courtesy of @Twistedlilkitty, but you get the idea).

That Friday Feeling

You know how when you're young, Friday nights are entirely for going out, and a Friday night in is deemed to be something of a failure (unless it's a party of course). Then when you get older and you're either too tired by the end of the week to do anything, or you have kids and it's too much hassle to get a babysitter so you stay in. But even so, there's always a feeling that Friday evening should be a little bit different to the other days; a mini celebration that the working week has finished once more and there are two days of relative freedom to come.

The Swedes of course, have a word for it - fredagsmys - which is basically the act of staying in and relaxing on a Friday night with family and friends, having snacks, drinks and maybe watching tv.

OLW (the equivalent of Walkers I guess) have even used it as the basis for an advert:



If you're not going out tonight, enjoy your fredagsmys.

Watch out for hidden rocks

One of the most frightening telephone conversations I've ever had was in 2003 and went something like this:
Me (on answering the phone): "Hello, I'm just about to get on the plane to go home. Are you ok?"
Mr.B (in France): Well, I don't want you to worry, but.."
Me: "But what? What have you done?"
Mr.B: "Erm.. I think I've broken my back."

You can imagine my reaction to that - despite being stood in the middle of Glasgow Airport at the time; and it turned out that he had indeed fractured two vertebrae in his lower back whilst skiing. 4 days later he finally came home, happily on his feet (just), but encased in a hard plastic shell from neck to hip. He was very lucky not to be injured more severely, the helmet that I had bullied him into buying and wearing just before that trip very possibly saved his life judging by the huge dent in it. 6 weeks of being horizontal on the sofa followed by several months of physiotherapy and he was almost as good as new.

So when he casually mentioned last night that the 10th anniversary boys' skiing trip was coming up my heart sank. He's only been back to the slopes once since the accident, and it was an incredibly nerve-wracking time. But, like the good little wifey I am, I've encouraged him to go as I can see he really wants to. Still, no matter how many times he tells me it was only a little fall, and he was just unlucky that there happened to be some rocks underneath the snow where he landed, I won't be happy until he's back in one piece.
Plus I've told him if he has so much as a scratch when he gets home, I'm going to break his skis.

When thrifty isn't necessarily a good thing

As the child of a Scotsman brought up in Yorkshire, you can imagine that penny pinching is something I am all too familiar with. Irritatingly, those principles were so firmly ingrained in me from childhood that they still influence my spending patterns on a fairly regular basis.

Which goes a long way towards explaining why, despite desperately wanting a PS3 and/or 360, I have only recently upgraded from my beloved original PS1 to a PS2 - a second hand one of course. We did buy a Wii when they first came out (ostensibly for the kids), but once I'd completed Twilight Princess I largely lost interest in it.
Of course a new console means new games. But naturally, I couldn't possibly buy those new either; cheap pre-owned being the only ones I can really bring myself to hand over my hard-earned cash for (well, Mr.B's hard-earned cash, but what's his is mine). Whilst over in England, I happened upon a shop that was a veritable treasure trove of inexpensive games, and couldn't resist bagging a bargain or six. Sadly, I went for quantity and price over quality so included in the handful I bought are some real pups, but as I've paid money for them I'm determined to play on regardless so it wasn't a complete waste.

So last night I was sat up till 1am trying to get my money's worth on The Golden Compass. I've never seen the film, was distinctly underwhelmed by the original books, and the only reason I bought it was that my friend's daughter had it on her dS ages ago and it didn't look too bad when she was playing it. Unfortunately I can't think of anything nice to say about it. The camera angles are usually placed in such a way to make it as difficult as possible with no way of changing them; there is too much dialogue and cut scenes that you can't speed up or skip; and the mini-games are repetitive and pretty dull (although some of them are occasionally infuriatingly tricky). Will I play through to the end? Probably. I've got to be able to justify spending that £1.99 after all. Will it drive me mad? Almost definitely.

Thriftiness tip of the day:
Should you have a temporary mental aberration and splurge £130 on a dSi but can't bring yourself to spend another tenner on something to keep it in, an odd fluffy sock makes an excellent case. The dS sits nicely in the top, and your games will stay safe underneath it in the toes.

Candles

When we first arrived in Sweden, we were told by some friends who'd been here a couple of years, that once winter arrived we would need candles. Lots of candles. It is dark here (not as dark as the far north of course) but still, sunset is something silly like 2.40pm on the shortest day, with sunrise being around 8.40am. I have previously written a post elsewhere on the lack of sunshine, but what I didn't mention there is what a huge difference having those candles lit makes.
I've always had lots of decorative candles, but now I have an excuse to really indulge myself and our windowsill is lined with little nightlights in glass holders. When they're all lit it looks so pretty and brightens the place up more than you would imagine. I haven't quite reached the 37 I was originally told to get, but I'm working on it!

(Sorry it's short and dull and boring, but I'm tired and I want to go to bed. And no, whilst I would like those candles, they're not mine.)

The Gathering Storm (part 1)

Around 15 years ago* I was waiting for a friend; they were running late so to occupy my time I indulged in one of my favourite hobbies of browsing a second hand book stall. Because I'm something of a fast reader, I always tend to be drawn towards chunky books, in the hope that they'll last a bit longer than usual, and my eye was caught by a pair that were book one and two in a series. They weren't particularly cheap considering I was a skint student at the time (one of them still has the £2.25 price sticker on so the pair were probably the equivalent of about 4 pints) but I decided to get them anyway. Little did I know that that spur of the moment purchase would lead me down a long, at times tortuous, and expensive road, and one that still hasn't ended.

If you've been down that road with me, then you'll know exactly what books I'm talking about from the post title, but for those who haven't, they were the first two books in Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. My imagination was well and truly caught by the immense world he had created, and by the time I finished the second I was incredibly keen to find the next. It took some time, but I eventually managed to get hold of cheap copies of books 3, 4 and 5 and a christmas book token got me a shiny new hardback copy of number 6. And then I had to wait. Which pretty much covered the next few years. Sadly things started to lose their way around about book number 8 (it felt to me like something of a filler, just something to keep people occupied while the next 'proper' book came out and nothing much happened in it), but I continued buying and reading and things picked up a little - besides, by this point I'd invested too much time and money in it to stop, plus I *really* wanted to know what happened at the end.

Number eleven came out and was the first book I didn't buy straight away, but borrowed from the library. I was kind of hoping that it was going to be the last one, but no. Some threads in the story were beginning to be wrapped up, but new ones were still being introduced. Then tragically, in 2007, Robert Jordan passed away, leaving the story unfinished. Which brings me to where I am now - looking at book twelve, the Gathering Storm which was already in progress back in 2007, but has been completed with the aid of notes left behind by RJ by an author called Brandon Sanderson (who I had never heard of previously). Originally this was intended to be titled A Memory of Light, and be the final book in the series, but has got too long and is being split into three installments. Which will take us to a grand total of 14 books (15 if you include the prequel), an epic tale if ever there was one.

I think this new book is the largest out of all of the WoT books on my bookcase, and having just finished re-reading the previous 11 for the first time in quite a while in preparation (I did buy #11 eventually, can't do with having an incomplete set) I remembered how much I'd loved reading them the very first time. Which makes me slightly nervous about starting on this one. Hopefully this Brandon Sanderson will stay true to the characters we've grown to know so well over the years, and manage to tie up all the hundreds of loose ends that have emerged in the story so far. I am disappointed that this will not be the last, and I'll have to wait a couple more years to read the ending, but I'm grateful that at least they're being written.

* writing that just made me feel incredibly old

Charity and stuff

I've been struggling all day to think of something to put in today's blogpost, and failing miserably (and I know I'm not the only one). The situation hasn't been helped by something of a hangover, a sick husband this morning, and a sick child this evening.

So I'm just going to plug something my friend's girlfriend has started to raise money for Haiti called Ladies Don't Lunch - there is a facebook group here, and a justgiving donation page here.

Thanks.

Football (yes, really)

I'm not exactly what you would call a football fan. I'll watch England playing in something like the World Cup or Euro whatever, but I'm not that bothered if I don't see it. But despite all that, I take a keen interest in the fortunes of Leeds United, having been indoctrinated in it by my dad for as long as I can remember.

I've only ever been to watch 2 football games in my entire life - the first was about 15 years ago, and was Huddersfield v. Blackpool with my then-boyfriend and his family. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it, the atmosphere was great and it was really easy to get carried away and shout as much as the next person when a referee's decision didn't go our way.

The other game was Leeds v. MK Dons last December. My dad promised me as a small child that he'd take me to see Leeds play when they got into the first division (which was the top of the leagues at the time), and then when they won the first division and when they won the premiership after it came into being, but never did. So when we were living in Milton Keynes, he'd moved and Leeds had fallen so far down that they were in the same division, I had to bully him into finally fulfilling that promise. One of our neighbours was a huge Dons supporter, and arranged for us all to get seats in the season ticket holders stand. We had a great time, despite being the only ones in the entire section cheering for Leeds, and we were really impressed by the people around us who chatted with us throughout the match and managed to commiserate without being too smug when we lost and the Dons won.

But by far and away the best result of the past few years has got to be Leeds beating Man U at Old Trafford in the FA cup 3rd round at the beginning of this month. It thrilled my heart in a way that I would never have expected. Then this evening they held Spurs to a draw at White Hart Lane, giving them a replay that I can't wait for (and the day before my birthday too which has to be a good sign, right?). We won't get it on our tv here though unfortunately, but I may just have to check whether the sports bar in town will be showing it and see if I have the courage to brave it.

But like I said, I'm not a big football fan.

This post was brought to you courtesy of 4 glasses of wine. I can accept no responsibility for any injuries sustained whilst reading it.

In praise of... pyjamas

I love my pyjamas. I would spend all day in them if I could. Not because I can't be bothered to get dressed (although that does come into it occasionally), but because there's just nothing more comfortable for pottering round the house in.

Unfortunately, despite not being officially employed, I do still have to leave the house in a morning and be seen by other people, and I haven't yet reached the level where I can go out in my baggy grey jogging bottoms and not care what other people may think. I confess I have been known to do the school run in them when there hasn't been time to get dressed, but on those occasions I've stayed firmly inside the car so no-one would know anyway. Typically it was one of these mornings when the police were stopping everyone to breathalyse them, and even though I didn't have to get out and don't think the policelady noticed or particularly cared what I was wearing, I still felt slightly embarrassed.

So although I do put 'proper' clothes on in a morning - well, jeans and a jumper anyway - the first thing I do once the kids have gone to bed is get into my slobby clothes. And when Mr.B is away, I tend to do it as soon as I know we don't need to leave the house again that day. One of the advantages of living in a new town/country is that you don't know anyone so there's no chance of unexpected visitors to necessitate a swift wardrobe change. Or so I assumed - I've been caught out once since we got here, and was mortified one evening when there was a knock at the dor and I answered it in my comfy but terribly unattractive clothes to find the beautifully dressed, immaculately groomed French lady from upstairs who wanted to borrow a chair for a dinner party. Bless her, she didn't even flinch at the sight of me, but I was truly mortified.

My mother would have berated me seven ways from Sunday if she knew what I wore at home - she was very old-fashioned in her views about certain things, and always told me that I should make an effort to look nice for my husband. And she practiced what she preached, inevitably looking well turned out no matter what else was going on. Happily Mr.B doesn't seem to mind too much (and I do make a bit of an effort every now and then) although he does know exactly what my mother would have said and has a little dig once in a while.
At which point I bring out my high heels. Not to wear, to hit him with.

Semla cakes

This blog is not going to be all about Sweden, I promise (I have one of those already). I had a few thoughts for posts on here earlier today, but they were all wiped out of my mind when I was reminded by something else I was reading about Semla cakes, and the shocking fact that I haven't had one yet this year.
They are cardamom-spiced buns, with the top cut off so you can put an almond paste mixture inside and fill them with whipped cream.


Traditionally they were only eaten on Shrove Tuesday, but nowadays are available from the New Year through till Easter. We had some on our recce visit last February and they were lovely. Not that they had anything to do with our decision to move over of course - you can't believe that we would be so fickle as to be tempted over by the lure of delicious baked goodies, surely?
But I know where I'll be going this weekend...

(Image from here)

Jag måste tala mer Svenska...

...I must speak more Swedish

I am such a coward.
Since we came to Sweden, I've been having language lessons - 20 hours so far - which have been enough that I can understand bits and pieces when I'm spoken to, and also get the gist of the letters that come home from school sometimes; but when it comes to actually speaking to someone, I go to pieces and cannot remember enough to even string a simple sentence together.
This morning was a prime example. I went across the road to post a letter, and all I had to say was Kan jag skicka detta till England? I was determined to do it, but when the moment arrived, I just kind of waved the letter and muttered something in English. Pathetic really, as I know my pronunciation isn't all that bad, and whilst I can't speak with a proper Swedish accent at the moment, at least I don't speak Swedish with an English accent (so my teacher says, and she seems to think it is a good thing).
It's mostly down to a lack of confidence, aided and abetted by the fact that most people here do understand English which provides an unfortunately convenient get-out clause. It would be all too easy to give up trying altogether, but I'm uncomfortable with making people use my language instead of their own all the time.
Conversation class starts next month, so perhaps that will give me the confidence in my own ability to speak when I'm out and about. I'm sort of dreading it, but hopefully the other company WAGs will be no better than me so I won't feel like a complete failure!
In the meantime, there's always the lady at the coffee shop up the road who is more than happy for me to practise on her, and of course the lovely cakes she sells are merely my reward for trying. Honest.

In a rush

This afternoon, Mr.B flew off somewhere decidedly unglamorous for a business trip, and I fully intend to make the most of the few days he's away.* After our recent visit back to the UK I came home with a fistful of new PS2 games, none of which I've had the chance to try out yet. Judging by my previous form, it's entirely likely that by the time I look at the clock again it will already be tomorrow, and as it would be a shame to fall over on day 2 of this #oneday lark I thought I'd write something (even if I still haven't decided to officially join in).
Sorry, I would write more, but those games are singing to me from the corner...

(* - Not that I was looking forward to him going or anything, but it is nice to have the opportunity to be in control of the tv once in a while)

Why I'd love to do #oneaday, but....

For a proper explanation of #oneaday click here.

I was intrigued by the concept of #oneaday when I first saw it appear in my twitter stream at the beginning of the year, and have been reading some of the participating blogs with interest ever since.
There have been a few times that I've considered joining in as I'm really good at starting blogs, but not so good at keeping them updated, and thought that perhaps this would be a motivator for me to get going and be a little more consistent.
And really, how hard can it be to write a quick blog post every day? (Actually, a lot more difficult than you might think.)
My hesitation to join the collective stems from a couple of things. Firstly, self-discipline has never been my strong point (as is evidenced by the fact that I'm writing this when I should be doing my Swedish homework that is due in... tomorrow morning and isn't started yet); and secondly, my worry that an inability to be able to think of anything to write about will merely hammer home to me just how dull my life is at the moment.
Not to mention the fact that some of the stuff I've been reading is really good, and I fear everything I manage to cobble together will look third-rate in comparison.
However, despite all that, I'm going to see if I can post something on here for the next few days, and we'll see how it goes. With a bit of luck it will eventually kickstart my other writing as well which has been sorely neglected for quite some time.
We'll see.