Radioactive cookies?

Saturday I am going for a guide tour of the Aspo Hard Rock laboratory. This has nothing to do with music. I wonder if they have a cafe though?

Spin the sphere

As you know I am a bit of an impulse mover.

I have never struggled with the decision where to go next.

Never BEFORE that is. This time I really don't know where I want to go, or IF I want to go.

I have added a little poll so you can help me with my decision. The options listed are done so for reasons I will not dwell on this time, but vote away!!

When parents don't think

Could you date a guy called Peter File?

Painting coconuts

The problem with painting things white is that things you previously considered white suddenly appear beige, or dirty, so you have to paint them as well. It's important to know where to stop.

Time to tidy

I'm excited about my cousin's visit this weekend. I also feel slightly stressed as I have started tidying every cabinet in my house, without finishing any of them. The place is a mess!! I am also painting furniture. To get from the front door to the living room I have to climb over various chairs, hop over a number of boxes. It's fun and challenging but perhaps not ideal for having visitors.

Countryside living

I was sitting outside enjoying the fantastic weather in the paradise that Vibo is. Next thing a butterfly landed on my hand. My "ahhh" quickly turned into "OUCH" as a bee stung me on my foot.
Nevermind!

Driver's license

I promised my grandmother I will make sure to have a driver's license next time I go to Sweden.

She said in that case she won't be expecting me any time soon.

I tell you this much...

When my grandmother tells me about a conversation she’s had, she tells it like a dialogue, using different tones of voice or accents to separate who said what. She also tends to use the same old expressions over and over again, so that in fact she is re-telling the overall point of the conversation carefully placed into her own universe. This means that, according to my grandmother’s stories, almost everyone start their sentences with:

“I will tell you this much, that…”

alternatively

“This much I’ll tell you, that…”

In addition, she refers to people according to where they live. In her family there’s no Bill, Jack and Bob. We are Stockholm, Australia and Hong Kong. There are also Oskarshamn and Monsteras. When we get to Monsteras it gets complicated as there are two sets of people living there; so you have to understand the context in order to know who she’s talking to. Yesterday she told me Oskarshamn is coming down this weekend.

“What?! All of them?” I asked sarcastically, but another wonderful thing about my grandmother is that she doesn’t really listen to sarcasm but simply says “Yes!” and continues talking.

Park bench?

I'm at Frankfurt airport and I have just realised that not only have I forgotten to organise where I am going to sleep tonight (I arrive in Stockholm at midnight), nor have I checked flights or trains that might get me to Kalmar tomorrow. This is an unusually relaxed attitude for being me. Nevermind!

Is there a priest on this flight?

The girl sitting next to me on the plane Hong Kong - Frankfurt suffered from the worst aerophobia I have ever seen.

She started crying already during takeoff. Once we hit the Tibetan plateau and the inevitable turbulence, the silent tears had turned into loud sobs and finally screams of fear. An air hostess was appointed to sit next to her during the worst parts, although I think that at times an Exorcist might have been more efficient.

I couldn’t help but think how funny it would be if I started saying things like: “Look at the wing, that doesn’t look right” or “I don’t think this turbulance is normal”…but I’m only that evil in thought!

Restlessness strikes again

The travel devil is back! He, who in true Disney style, lives behind my ear, tells me to move, move, move. When I arrived in Hong Kong I declared him dead and buried. I could easily picture myself spending a lifetime out here. Seems the little devil wasn't dead at all, merely hibernating. A few days ago he woke up and started talking rubbish again (I am not hearing voices, there really is a little devil behind my ear).

Mother has for some time been campaigning to get me to leave Hong Kong (in favour of settling down in rural Sweden, producing an army of grandchildren for her). If ever I say anything negative like "I have been eaten alive by mosquitoes again", she replies:

- See, there's nothing good about Hong Kong.

I look forward to the next time she says this, as I can now reply:

- You know what, you're right! That's why I am moving to Botswana.

Mother will not be impressed!

If Hong Kong is the world's most difficult place for a single, white girl to meet a reasonable guy, I reckon Botswana must be one of the easiest! Or maybe South America? France? Oh, and I really like Italy! What can I say, the world is my oyster!

Some jemima puddle duck a'Lorange, anyone?

I wonder if Beatrix Potter was a vegetarian or if she would emerge from her studio digging into some nice Peter-the-Rabbit stew?