Nope. No relation to the blue tit or the coal tit. Just another one of those English phrases that leaves my man looking bewildered. Still, very descriptive of the sort of weather you associate with February in this neck of the woods. So what does one do in these conditions? If you were thinking open fire, cosy slippers, an afghan rug and a good book, you'd be wrong. Surely you aren't going to let the below zero temperatures and hip deep snow hinder you from going out, are you?

Join me and see what the Swedes do in February.

This weekend, thousands of people will be flocking out to Lake Mälaren for the long distance skating event Vikingarännet - literally "The Viking Run", where competitors can skate the 50 kilometres from Uppsala to Stockholm. For those not quite as mad, there is a shortened track of "only" 22 kilometres from Sigtuna to Stockholm. I don't know about you, but I'm still liking the thought of the open fire scenario much more.

I know, I know, I'm never, ever going to be truly Swedish at this rate.

So, on to the "lake", which looks quite different now than it did last time we visited in summer. For a start, where is the water?




I'm really surprised that things are still frozen solid here. In Nynäshamn, the harbour area looks more like an esky of slowly melting crushed ice, but the fresh water on Mälaren is frozen rock hard and perfect for skating. I still can't believe that this is the place where we sail in summer, with all of those reeds gently waving in the breeze, full of the calls of nesting waterfowl and industrial strength mosquitoes. Today in the sunshine it is a still and silent sea of white.




Because everything is so organised over in Sweden, you don't have to go out with your seacharts and GPS, nor leave a trail of cake crumbs to retrace your steps as they have thoughtfully cleared a track for you to follow all the way from here (Upplands-Väsby) to Sigtuna (only 10 kilometers away). "Where is that open fire?" thinks Marie. Our friend Lennart however, has no such wimpy thoughts as he strides out on to the ice and prepares to strut his stuff.




It is fun for the whole family and even the pets can come out for a romp. You will of course note that this is a normal family dog bouncing along with enthusiasm and happily greeting total strangers. Other, more sensetive and regal puppies would be safely wrapped in their pure wool coats and curled up asleep in their daddy's backpack.

Still, this scene reminds me a little of a recent discussion I was having with an internet friend in the Netherlands, where we were trying to come up with suggestions to spice up the Winter Olympics and make them a bit more interesting. One suggestion was to let a few polar bears loose on the cross country skiing course and see how fast they'd go then on pure adrenaline driven fear. Imagine the ratings! Imagine frigging Bruce McAvaney calling the event. Yes, I feel quite cheered up now. Still freezing, but at least laughing.




Along the way, the weather changes suddenly as it is prone to do and a thick mist starts to roll in, obscuring the horizon and enveloping everything in it's cool damp grip. At this stage I'm thinking back to my grade seven social studies class and wishing I'd paid more attention when Sr Mary told us about Mawson, Scott, Shackelton, Amundsen and the other Antarctic survival stories. Then I vaguely recall that the Norwegian team ate their huskies on the return journey. Am considering suggesting that we eat the dog if things become desperate. Not that I'm a drama queen or anything...




However, the dog is saved by the sight of the beautiful old town of Sigtuna, which dates back to 980AD. What is even more welcoming is the sight of an open café - the very pretty Tant Brun's Coffee Shop, housed in an intimate and charming old building dating from the 1700s. Strangely, nobody seems to be using the garden area today. Last time I was here, it was packed solid with customers.




The doorway was inviting, with its promise of warm pastries, hot chocolate and warm fire. It is a delightful place, with a lot of rustic charm coming from the uneven floors and low ceilings that force most men to have to bend or risk banging their head.




Now all there was to do was to contemplate the ten kilometre skate back to Väsby. Or there is always the bus...




And since I mentioned the Winter Olympics, could I please ask Australia to get a move on. You've only won one gold medal to Sweden's two - this is a state of events that can't be tolerated in this house. Do I have to come to Turin myself with a few polar bears?