I actually uttered this phrase (how can I remember so many awful songs?) on Friday night, eliciting a long, disgusted, communal groan from my companions. We had just pulled up at the sailing school on Långholmen, where we were going to hear a talk from a man who has just returned from sailing in the West Indies in his yacht called – Amarillo.

Okay, okay. But it seemed funny at the time.

We have had our first autumn storm over the last few days, with winds whipping up to 50 knots and sheets of cold, needle sharp rain. After the hard winds of the last couple of days, this morning dawned sunny and really calm. Looking at Fiona gently rocking in the sun, you have to ask “What storm?”



It may be calm, but it is bitterly cold, with the temperature dipping to minus 10 Celsius overnight for the first time this season as the dreaded north winds sweep down bringing King Bore (pronounced bore-aye) – the king of winter to Nynäshamn. There can be no more talk of autumn now that he has arrived and already there are signs that the water is getting really cold. This morning, the piers were covered with a layer of frost and the surface of the calm water was beginning to ice over.



In the pond at the local park, the birds are gathering around waiting for winter food handouts as the pond slowly freezes. I have seen several people who come to the park and harbour area to regularly feed these birds over winter and I’m sure that without their help, the birds would find it very hard to survive. Quite why they choose to stay and winter here rather than fly with their smarter relatives to Africa I don’t know. Man, I feel cold just looking at them! And check out the frost lying on the grass – still around at lunchtime, though the lovely blue skies and the low lying sun go some way towards cheering up the scene.



Some animals, however have it far better. No, I’m not thinking of Princess Lambi for once, though she certainly leads a charmed existence on the sofa in front of the fire at this time of the year. I was actually thinking of a huge dog I saw on the morning train this week. God knows that train trips are dull at the best of times, so I was utterly charmed when I saw this fine puppy sitting up, looking at all of his fellow commuters.



He’s taking advantage of the warmth of the winter sun streaming through the windows (just as well because the damn train driver kept the doors open, despite the frigid temperature). And who would be heartless enough to tell him to get off the seat?

In the evening, we met up with our friends Bosse and Ann after work and enjoyed a fabulous Italian dinner together at La Casa Trattoria. The restaurant was lovely, with soft, gentle lighting, very comfortable table settings and a simple but cosy ambience. The food was first class and the company outstanding. As usual when we four get together, there was a lot of laughter and not a quiet moment. And no, contrary to what you may think, it isn’t just ME taking up the airspace – everyone is equally involved. It is always a joy to spend a relaxed evening with people who are so easy to talk to and so much fun to be with.

I did have one strange moment, though, where I stared at the three Swedes seated around me and wondered why I was bothering living in this country. I was telling them all about a beautiful old Swedish wooden fishing boat that friends of ours (he is Swedish, she Australian) have very recently purchased. This is one of those boats that lies moored along historic Strandvägen and I thought Ann might see it on her way to work at SVT each day. I commented that the name of the boat (Matilda) was so perfect, as Beth is an Australian.

Blank looks from Lars-Göran, Bosse and Ann.

“You know” I said, “like the song Waltzing Matilda”.

Blank looks from Lars-Göran, Bosse and Ann.

“Oops.” I said “Don’t you know that song here in Sweden?”

Blank looks from Lars-Göran, Bosse and Ann.

Ann tentatively says that yes, they DO know the song, but is it an Australian tune? Lars-Göran pipes in with an ill-considered “I thought it was some shit from America” and Bosse seeing murder in my eyes, wisely decides to study his cup of coffee very intently.



Whoa. Deep breaths there, Marie. Calm yourself. Count to ten. Smile......

Nope. No good, I’m still mad as a cut snake.

“America! AMERICA!!” I splutter. ”Just look at some of the words of the song – words like swagman, billabong, coolabah, tucker bag, jumbuck. Run those past any American and I bet you’d get a blank look because they are uniquely Australian words. My God! It’s practically our unofficial national anthem!” I cry with passion and a patriotic tear forming in my eye.

Lars-Göran (unwisely laughing): A national anthem about stealing sheep? Well, that figures, coming from you guys!”

Can’t you just tell that he’s never going to get a visa to Australia with an attitude like that? I decide to ignore that pathetic attempt to smear my countrymen and just shake my head in disgust.

Lars-Göran (digging a deeper hole): I always wondered why you had Waltzing Matilda as your ring signal on your mobile phone..

And after FIVE years, you’ve never asked why?

So you see, they deserved that crack about Amarillo - a song you could truly describe as "some shit from America”!