I was reading today about a study that claims to have found the "skinny" gene. You know, they could look through my entire DNA wardrobe and not find one single pair of skinny genes. But apparently, they have discovered what makes the body decide to accumulate fat or burn it off. Man where do I sign up?

It's quite a co-incidence seeing this study today, because for the last couple of days we have been fruitlessly trying to buy Lars-Göran a pair of jeans. Now his DNA cupboard is full to bursting with this gene they call adipose and he knows how to use it. I think I'm married to the human rake - he eats well and snacks on all of the wrong food groups constantly, yet he remains stubbornly thin. (Yeah, I hate him as well, sometimes).

We went to a big national menswear chain, thinking it would take a few minutes to grab a pair of jeans, then we could look for some bathroom stuff. Ha! Ha! The jeans are arranged in size order very neatly, so I marched over there and scratched my head as the waist sizes were all in inches. Sweden is a metric country in everything except jeans sizing, where they adopt the American system for some odd reason. And these jeans only came in big sizes. The smallest waist size was 32". We needed a 28" waist - or else I'd have to put Lars-Göran on an American fast food diet to get him big enough for the jeans. We spoke to the assistant who was apologetic but confirmed that 32" was the smallest size.

"Okay, no problem" I said, "we'll just go to a specialised jeans shop. Sure we'll have to pay a bit more, but at least they'll fit." We braved several shops full of blaring (c)rap music about "hoes" and "muvverfukas" and looked at their ridiculous jeans.




They either had these 5cm crotches, or else the crotch hung down to your knees, or they were full of holes. And the prices were staggering. It's hard enough to get Lars-Göran to the shop for clothing at the best of times and this sorely tested his patience. We tried out a couple of branches of department stores as well and in one shop we did find a 30" waist pair of Polo jeans, that would be okay in winter when he needed to wear thick shirts and thermal longjohns under them. We bought them (at double the price of the jeans in the menswear shop) but he refused to go to any more shops. I'll have to make some discreet enquiries about where to buy normal looking jeans in a slim size.

Apart from that glitch, we have been loving every minute of being in Vadstena. What a wonderful place, I keep thinking as I stroll through the afternoon sun. And I live here! This is home.




I don't think that it has fully sunk in yet. In selling up at Nynäshamn, I've had to walk away from a cluster of memories, some of them very precious to me. It does not compare to wrench of uprooting from Australia and moving to Sweden, but there are wonderful moments like our wedding day and the smiling, cheerful greetings from good friends that happened there.

But in buying here in Vadstena, we have chosen where our future will take place and that is something to really cherish and look forward to with anticipation. This is a lovely town and I enjoy the quiet way that people go about their daily business. Each day on our afternoon stroll through some part of town we see people walking their dogs across the parks, children laughing and playing together, gorgeous gardens full of fragrant flowering roses and the beautiful, cobbelstone streets.




A shady path extends along the waterway with a big avenue of chestnut trees leading to the magnificent sixteenth century castle by the harbour. This park around the castle has a timeless quality to it. The clothes, the flowers, the size of the trees may all change, but it could easily be a hundred years ago.




But here too is a sense of balance, of real life. I watch joggers running past us, working off the effects of morning fika, sunbathers, bird watchers and bookworms lounge on the park benches and parents watch their children play. We can hear the yapping of a small dog (no, not ours - a tiny, bold and saucy chihuahua is letting a cocker spaniel know just who is boss) and the chirping of birds. The benches were full of neighbours chatting.




This unhurried existence is a million miles away from the fume-filled avenues of Stockholm. It's a peaceful spot to read the paper. The dog can have a long evening walk along the curved shore of Lake Vättern.

There was childish laughter from a playground and we stopped for a minute and watched a group of preschool children rise and fall on their swings. Then I glanced up at the silhouette of the town, with the majestic castle to my right, the red tower and the church steeple glowing in the afternoon sun and I find myself overwhelmed once again by all of the art, architecture and history in one tiny little town in the middle of Sweden.




The town itself is a dream to walk in, with the main street being reserved for pedestrians only. It's a lovely mix of gracious buildings like the fourteenth century town hall, restaurants, cafés and small, interesting shops. This blend of harmonious buildings is punctuated by narrow laneways that veer off invitingly.




And the life in the street buzzes and thrives, while a tempting smell of freshly baked pastries and roasting chicken drifts out of the open doorways of the restaurants and coffee shops. It's a real people town, with friendly, approachable people, nice flat streets and charming old timber homes. Quite a few of them have the old "snooping mirrors" on them still, so they could see what is happening outside from the comfort of their kitchen table.




I think that it is the wonderful effect of having no cars that has restored the importance of people. In some ways, the presence of cars in the narrow hilly streets of a place like Visby really destroys the atmosphere as well as scaring the living daylights out of one every time you have to leap out of the way of a kamikaze pilot in training behind the wheel of an enormous Volvo trying to squeeze down a lane barely wide enough for a Vespa.




In Vadstena, you can wander up and down in peace, get a sense of the scale of the architecture, the lovely low buildings while you amble along the flat streets that in some cases are only made for walking. Even cyclists are forbidden to ride down the main street. The rest of the town is fairly inhospitable to drivers as well, with numerous cul-de-sacs, streets that are too narrow and winding so we have found that it pays to leave the car home and to walk.




I've found the town's businesses to also be friendly, efficient and welcoming. This shows me how successful the town has been to adapting to change. While there are very old buildings here, you don't get a sense of stepping back in time, this is not a musty, static museum town with people in costume selling you a tourist experience of life "in the old days". People here are very much of this time - it's just that they have had the good sense and foresight to bring the past along with them rather than raze everything to the ground and start anew all of the time.




While wandering around the convent area, looking at the buildings which are still standing today after many hundreds of years, you get the feeling that a merchant from the fifteenth century could return and probably find his house today. Present and past coexist in a harmony in what I think must be one of the most civilised towns in Sweden.

Now if I could just find those skinny jeans for Lars-Göran and a gift certificate for skinny genes for myself, my life would be complete.