I'm still trying to recover from the dreadful shock I got today. We had to go to IKEA in the nearby town of Linköping to pick up some things for the flat. While I don't mind some of their range, I'm generally not a lover of the whole IKEA shopping experience. It begins with trying to leave the car in a vast carpark the size of the Gobi desert, with many of the spaces reserved for specific types of vehicles, none of which match your own ordinary car. And I positively loathe the way you get herded through the whole shop like wildebeests migrating through a narrow river crossing in the Serengeti, when generally I know exactly what I want and would prefer to simply head straight to the warehouse section and pick the goods up. Though, perhaps I'm not as averse to it as Bob.....




Anyway, I didn't complain (well, not very much, anyway) and we found most things we wanted, so I was in an upbeat move as we made our way to the checkout with our goodies. What stopped me in my tracks and left me standing there open mouthed was a whole section like this:


Surely not Christmas decorations in September? I shut my eyes, thinking it was a hallucination brought about by having to hike through 59 kilometres of car park and 75 kilometres of furniture showroom without food or drink. But no, when I opened them again, I was still surrounded by glittery decorations and flashing lights. I'm thankful that at least there was no piped version of Jingle Bell Rock pulsing through the PA system. Then I really would have run amok - and noone needs to see me do that.

Am I the only one appalled about the appearance of Christmas decorations in the shops already? Is it my imagination, or does it seem to be getting earlier and earlier every year, even here in Sweden? I remember when I was a kid, one never saw Christmas decorations until the third Saturday in November at the earliest. The sight of Santa Claus bringing up the rear at the Johnnie's Christmas Pageant on his way to The Magic Cave on North Terrace was the signal: It's now officially the Christmas season! Shop till you drop and decorate to your hearts' content. The pageant had barely left West Terrace before I'd broken out the tree and flashing lights and was happily covered in tinsel and fake snow.




Even then, people usually didn't decorate their homes until early December. In some of the more traditional homes, particularly those that observed a fairly strict catholic calendar, the decorated tree didn't appear until Christmas eve and was taken down after the Epiphany. Please don't think that I'm some kind of anti-Christmas Grinch, because I really do love the whole holiday season, trimmings and all. It's probably my favourite holiday. However, Christmas decorations out before the leaves turn? Thats just not right.




I admit to also doing a double take when I saw this stretch limo in the car park. I thought maybe IKEA's founder Ingvar Kamprad was here visiting for the day. But we didn't see anyone around, apart from a few people rubber nacking like us.

And so we sped back to the safety of our little town where Christmas insanity does not hit until late November with a magnificent medieval style Christmas market held in the castle. The article is in Swedish only, but the pictures will give you an idea of what we will see.

Back in Vadstena it was quiet and peaceful, so I could recover my sanity.




Looking at the picture above, taken from the street that crosses ours, you can clearly see the red tower, which is in the middle of town and I think is a great landmark. But not everyone noticed that it existed. When we needed to pick up something that required us to go to the main street, charmingly called "The Big Street" (Storgatan), I suggested we do so on our way out to the boat. Lars-Göran grumbled a bit about where to park the car as the town is so car unfriendly, but I assured him that I knew a spot that would be perfect. So I began my directions there with "Just follow this street to the red tower". He looked at me with a puzzled look and asked "What red tower?" Of course I laughed, thinking he was fooling around, but he wasn't. He had never noticed the red tower before! I'm booking a time for him to have his eyesight tested!




It's a lovely place we live at with its mixture of town and country life existing side by side. On the same corner where you can look towards the red tower, you can turn ninety degrees and look over farmland, where today we saw a deer grazing. And then a short walk into town brings you to the lovely park surrounding the castle, which today is looking glorious as the autumn colours begin to show.




They have managed to hit a good balance with the park. It is stately and grand with many old, well established elm trees, but it is still very much a place for people to enjoy, with lawned areas, plenty of benches to rest your weary feet and a playground for the children, which strangely enough does not look incongruous in this setting. I always feel relaxed and welcome here.




And then there is the peace I feel at home in our cosy apartment. It is so nice not to be on the main street anymore. I thought we might miss some of the passing traffic, but in fact there are so many different birds in the trees outside of my kitchen window that it is always a treat to be there. While they have mostly been crows or ravens, today we had dozens and dozens of chattering and gregarious starlings (starar). While it doesn't show up in the photo we took from the breakfast table, their feathers have the most beautiful a metallic sheen.




And progress on the apartment is ongoing as well. We have finished with the bathroom which now looks so much more civilised with everything attached properly and some new cleancut, plain white IKEA furniture to brighten it up - a double doored mirror cabinet, a high cabinet and cupboards under the basin. We've filled all of the 58 holes in the wall with a special, watertight compound that blends really well with the existing wall covering and we've added towel hooks, shower curtain rail and shower curtain. It has made a huge difference and now I can move on to another room. Slowly but surely, we seem to be getting there.

While we've had no rain, it has been sunny though cold, as well as wild and very windy. It's amazing how the wind howls like a banshee through the trees and shakes at the windows. In Adelaide, I used to love days like this, with the wind roaring outside while I was all warm and cosy inside. I'm not sure why I love wind storms so much, but I have always done so. Perhaps it has something to do with my growing up by the ocean. On a stormy day, the ocean was so strong and vibrant that simply being beside the sea on such a day could quite take your breath away.

A short walk westwards from our apartment brings us to Tycklinge, a small but pretty narrow spit of land extending out into the lake. It has a sandy beach and is very popular in summer. Today with the strong westerly winds, the waves were rolling in, crashing against the shore with a repetitive and hypnotic rhythm that made me nostalgic for the beaches of my childhood. It lacked the sharp saltiness in the air that I so cherish about Australian beaches, but the noise was terrific and when I shut my eyes and listened, I still found it hard to believe that I was standing by a lake and not by Aldinga Beach.




Today, it is possibly around the same wind speed as when we sailed home, though now the winds are coming more from the west than from the south. Ironically enough, it would have been better for us to have waited and crossed over with these westerlies and avoided the terror of being swamped by a succession of breaking waves. Several members of the boat club thought we were crazy to have attempted that crossing in a southerly gale, but how were we to know? It's all this local knowledge that we lack and will have to learn again. Maybe. We in fact are discussing exactly what we will do with the boat in future seasons, but more about that when we know for sure. For today, we simply stood by the shore and enjoyed the view, happy to be safely on solid land looking out rather than being out in the cauldron. In the distance, you can see three of the giant wind turbines used to generate electricity. Methinks that it's no co-incidence that they are sited just here.




We wondered what it would look like further along the shoreline, so we packed a bit of a picnic and sought a sheltered spot with a panoramic view, in order to enjoy a little afternoon tea. I remembered a pretty hill we had stopped on briefly the other day when we visited Omberg. It was just a few kilometres from Vadstena and from what I recalled, it was sheltered from the west by large trees and we could get a view across to the harbour town of Borghamn from up there. My guess was that the waves would be quite spectacular from that vantage point. So we set off happily in the afternoon sunshine.

Obviously we were not the only ones with the same idea! Don't they look happy and cosy there? That was the table we would have liked, but we made do with one a little further up the hill and Lambi eagerly helped us with our picnic. There's never any chance of leftovers when you bring a dog with you.




It seemed intrusive to stay there while this father and daughter were enjoying their Saturday afternoon, so we set off again, hitting on the idea of checking out Hästholmen, the little harbour town we had also seen from the high point of Omberg. In strictly geological terms, Omberg is considered a horst which slopes steeply into Lake Vättern and dominates the surrounding plains.





When we went there with Madde, we found that the whole area has much to offer, such as expansive views towards Västergötland province on the other side of the lake, many cultural artifacts as well as the stunning nature. We were also quite struck by the view of the hill when we sailed across Vättern, rising high and looking so powerful. We were slightly busy as we sailed back (funny about that) the other day so I could not get a picture of what it looked like from the water, but I am determined to do so as it was quite arresting. This area has been inhabited since the Bronze Age and it is no wonder that a lot of mythology surrounds the mountain. During the Iron Age, the mountain offered protection to the people and traces of their fortresses remain. I think we'll be visiting and investigating the region quite a lot in future. But today it was off to Hästholmen, where the wind was screaming in and the waves crashing over the seawall.




The photo doesn't really do justice to the conditions, but it was incredibly wild at the guest harbour. There are two boats moored to the seawall. We saw the crews of the boat sitting outside watching the water and our guess was that they had crossed over from the western shore and probably in record time. But now they were stuck here as they had no hope of leaving here with such a gale blowing. I wondered how urgent their homeward trip was. They seemed restless, looking out at the water, as though willing it to calm down.

And just in case they were unwise enough to try their luck, there was a nasty surprise waiting out in the harbour entrance for a stray hull to crunch up. What a scary group of rocks and a glance at the charts showed that it is a rather tight way in as it is, with a high rocky cliff to the south, those rocks to the north and quite a shallow bay to the east. You need to come here in calm weather only as the margin for error is very small. Why is it that these rocks place themselves smack bang in the middle?




There was a small lighthouse on a bluff overlooking the guest harbour and the lake, so we decided to clamber up the narrow, slippery path and take a look at the spray being thrown up by the waves as they pounded the cliff face. We were well rugged up which was just as well because the ever blowing wind had a sharp edge to it. The wind was so powerful that we had to stand leaning towards it to hold our balance while we watched in fascination as the waves curled and broke then crashed against each other and the rocks, throwing up huge fountains of spray.




We stayed up there attempting to shelter behind the lighthouse, but the whipping wind was so strong that it simply came around the corner and blew at us anyway. Poor Lambi was zipped up inside my jacket with just her little head and floppy ears protruding to protect her from the cold wind. I dared not put her down as I was afraid she'd be blown away (or just run away back to the car as it was clear from her reproachful looks that she thought we were mad to be outside in this weather). Each time I looked down at her, I had to smile as I watched her little ears rise like spinnakers. Very cute. We were watching the huge swells coming in and Lars-Göran was trying to time the click of the shutter to get the spray as the wave hit the cliffs, which is never easy.




In spite of the wind, it was a glorious day, with a sunny, bright blue sky looking as though it was gift wrapped in huge, white, puffy marshmallow like clouds. The limestone in the rocks around this area tends to colour the water a unique shade of light blue, which is both very clear and quite pretty. On a still day, it would just exude peace and tranquility and lend itself to quiet contemplation. But not today with the wind furiously driving the waves relentlessly into the rocks. Looking up further into the harbour we could see that the swells were creating havoc with the other fishing boats moored there as well as with the boat houses by the shore, some of which looked to be in a rather precarious position.




Lars-Göran was in his element, but the complaints were coming loud and clear from the smallest member of the family who was squirming and sending out plaintive whimpers as though to say "Get me out of here!" I looked down and laughed again at her ears which were doing their full on Sally Field aka The Flying Nun impersonation and said I'd take her back to the comfort and shelter of the car. Lars-Göran walked down along the fishing boat piers, which were heaving in the rough water. The noise was incredible, with fenders squeaking, ropes straining, rigging literally screaming and shakes and groans coming from the lovely old fishing boat twisting at its mooring. There were several worried boat owners out there tying more ropes to their stricken yachts and it really focused my thoughts on mankind’s futile efforts to combat the forces of Mother Nature when she gets going. But none of this worried Lambi in the slightest once she was safely asleep in her carriage.




On the drive home, we talked about how sorry we felt for the sailors stuck there in the wind, which was forecast to last a few more days. Having almost been caught out in it ourselves so recently, we vowed never to go out on the lake without checking the more long range forecast. In many ways we are still thinking like sheltered water sailors, which is what you are in an archipelago. While you still get winds there, the belt of islands and shoals protects you from the huge waves like the ones we saw today. We also thought about where we could sail in the lake and the more we look at the coastline, the more certain we are that the only shelter is in towns like Hästholmen. While that is okay occasionally, we don't want to spend all of our time doing trips like that, particularly when we could do the same trip in a 20 minute drive from home.

These observations over the last few days have firmly cemented our gut feeling that our sailing will continue out in the coastal regions and with that in mind we will start investigating mooring places out there. I'd much rather drive an hour to the boat and take her out for weeks or months on end in that environment than put up with sailing from town to town in Vättern plus the hard work of doing the Göta Canal twice a season. We'd also be locked into the canal's timetable which is frustrating as well. And the annual expense of doing the canal trip (over $1500 a season) could be better spent on something far more entertaining - like more booze for the ship's bar. So, it looks like we'll be moving Fiona away from Lake Vättern in the spring and back to the sea - possibly here.




The wind did abate after a few days and the rain settled in for a while. One afternoon I glanced out of my kitchen window and saw these kids having a picnic in the rain. The large house and garden next door is what in Sweden is called a fritidshem. There is no direct word for that in English and my Swedish/English dictionary translates it as "after-school recreation centre for junior school children" if that makes sense. I guess in Australia it would be called "Out-of-School Care" or something similar. I prefer the simplicity of the word fritidshem (literally leisure hours home, which has a nice, homely feel to it). Anyway, as you can see, they breed them tough in Sweden. There's none of this staying warm and dry inside in wet, cold or even snowy weather here. The kids are simply dressed up and taken outside to enjoy the day, illustrating perfectly that Swedish saying which so annoys expats here - There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. (I can hear my friend Liz in Skåne screaming from here)




When the weather fines up, we always take a break from work and continue walking around and learning about our new town. This is a view from out on the sea wall, looking back towards the bay, with the church of St Birgitta on the shore and a little further away, the distinctive red tower, which quite sensibly is known in town as (what else) "The Red Tower" (Rödtornet). It is the remains of an older church (St. Per's Church dating from 1460). The church was deemed too large for a small parish of only 1,500 inhabitants, so in 1829, in a rather short sighted decision, it was demolished. The tower was allowed to stay and the clock was installed there as a useful addition to the town and today the tower and attached building houses the town's business centre. To the right of these and unfortunately not in the picture is the turrets of the Renaissance castle. The spires of those three buildings can be seen for miles in any direction and is the first glimpse of home for us.




We still love walking around the town and imagining we are in another time. There is very little car traffic around, though quite a few pedestrians and cyclists. The small side street where we live with it's old homes painted in warm colours and pretty window boxes seem to hit just the right note for us. It's such a change from our old home at Nynäshamn, where we lived on a long straight road where young men in their throbbing cars tore past us at what seemed like 250 kph. At least I thought they were young men as it is so hard to tell through the tinted windows. You know, I used to have regular fantasies about putting a chain of tyre-piercing steel spikes across the road? How nice to have left all of that behind me.




At dusk instead we can wander out to the lighthouse on the sea wall and contemplate the water. This lighthouse signals the beginning of the canal which leads into the guest harbour right in the castle's moat. A fitting welcome to Vadstena and a perfect place to just be.

It's busy, busy, busy times at Chez Nordström, with renovations in full swing and travelling around to collect bits and pieces being high on the agenda. It can be a bit frustrating to find things when you are in a new town and are not sure of what is available and where. But I'm not complaining as it is all a learning curve and has helped us make new discoveries. We've been to Vadstena Antik och Kuriosa, an amazing shop, housed in an old barn and full of used furniture and knick-knacks, located just on the edge of town. We had a ball fossicking around, marvelling at some of the appallingly tasteless items on display and wondering who on earth would ever have bought them!

It was not all ghastly, though, and a lot of it was really interesting and I enjoyed looking at the rooms set up as old kitchens, dining rooms and sitting rooms.




Lars-Göran loved being upstairs in the old hay loft, which he said smelled exactly the same as his grandfather's barn and while I found it a bit spooky, he was in his element. It was a very productive visit as well, because I found an old art deco style mirror and hall table that will be great in our hallway and we bargained a bit and happily brought it home. Pictures will follow once we have finished with the wallpapering and installed it.

Our hunt for suitable bathroom furniture and fittings continues after we had no luck finding what we wanted here. Who thought it would be so hard? Well, that's not quite true as we did find some lovely fittings at one local shop, but the price was unbelievable. I don't know how we kept a straight face as we read the price tags. Now if we'd bought a manor house, we would have been okay, but there was nothing for our much leaner budget. Still, I'm sure what I want exists, I'll just have to look around in Linköping.

We try and go out for a walk each day to explore the town and to get exercise for all three of us. The smallest, fluffiest member of the family is not thrilled by this, but we are trying to encourage her. Mostly we have been going to the outskirts, where it is decidedly rural.




This is about a fifteen minute walk from our apartment, up a hill with a view over the town. It was too hazy to take a picture of the town, but it looks very picturesque from here. You'll just have to take my word for it. Something that strikes me as we live with it every day now is how much work there is to do on a farm. The farmer is out every day doing something and the landscape changes daily as the season changes. I think it will be wonderful to observe it over the course of a year.




As we approached the boundary of the farm, the cows in the nearby field came out to say hello. I particularly liked this pretty brown and white calf who came tentatively over to look more closely at Lambi, who was none too keen in being noticed. However, I was loving it, especially the shy calf with those beautiful big eyes.

The other cows also came over for a look and a pat and this one even looked like it was talking to Lars-Göran. I now tease him by saying "I think your girlfriend is saying something". I so enjoy coming here to watch them graze peacefully and it's amazing when you think that only a couple of kilometers away is the center of town. Beyond here there's nothing but the occasional small hamlet or farmhouse and of course the fields. I love the fact that Vadstena is so small that the countryside is never too far. You can get out of the urban buildup within minutes!

Thanks to the fact that Vadstena is not one of those immense sprawling metropolises, everybody has access to a natural environment and has the opportunity to discover the countryside. Whether you walk by foot, take the bus or drive your car, it is always easy to reach. At the risk of boring you all, I have to say again that this place was heaven. There are some places that the minute you arrive there, you know that you belong there. This is really such a place.




While walking back home, we were chatting about sailing again and we thought it might be fun to go out for an overnight trip across the lake to an area on the other side which has a small archipelago of islands. We had visited the northern archipelago last year when we were here for a visit, but had not seen the smaller group closer to Karlsborg. Several people at the boat club had spoken warmly of an area called Ombo öar (The Ombo Islands) so we packed up and set off in the brisk winds for a rapid crossing of the water, taking around three hours to reach the first islands. This archipelago is made up of five small islands on the edge of the western shore, as you can see on this map from Visa Naturreservat.




It had been rather wavy out in the open water, but as it was a sunny day we didn't really mind and it felt so good to be out on the water again. As we made our way through the narrow opening to the island group, I was looking forward to anchoring and catching the last of the afternoon rays. But it proved to be somewhat problematic. I watched the depth drop from 50 metres outside to around 5 metres and falling as we came through the heads. Then suddenly, it started getting deeper and inside the islands the water was between 10 metres and 25 metres deep!

Okay, on to plan B, especially as the water was not all that still inside. Certainly there were no waves, but there was still quite a swell that was not comfortable. We could see a small sound marked on the chart as Djäknesundet that looked as though it might be more protected and hopefully a little more shallow. Imagine our surprise when we saw five other boats moored there - on a Thursday in autumn! We were a bit taken aback as we imagined we'd be alone and the bay itself was not all that inviting. There was a small pier that was full of the visiting boats and the only spot where we could safely anchor was in the middle of a spooky, dark, troll like wood and was ten metres deep. That meant laying out all 50 metres of anchor chain. And worse still, hand hauling it all in again (electric windlass, where are you? Are you listening, Santa?)

In the end, we saw that the boats at the pier were bunching up and one boat even lay on the outside of his friend's boat so we could have room at the sunny pier, which was really nice of them.




As it was still sunny, we decided to take advantage of it and have a look around. We read the information board and chose one of the walkways through the woods on the mainland. It was a really different landscape than any other place I had visited in Sweden. It borders on Tiveden, the ancient forest of the god Tis - a wilderness area between lakes Vättern Vänern. It was apparently this almost haunted area which separated the tribes of the Svea and the Göta from each other. One had to be very brave in those days to risk the bears, wolves and outlawed highway men of the so called "twelve mile forest". In places, it still had a primeval feel. We were not attacked by any bears or wolves and the only wildlife we saw was a little lizard sunning itself on a bench.




We saw light through the trees and made our way towards it and came across a rather extraordinary sandy beach, surrounded by high rocky cliffs. It was quite unusual and surprisingly calm compared with the wild waters outside. This was because it was in lee. I imagine that in strong easterly winds, this place would be like a crazy cauldron of swirling water and crashing breakers. Still, it was a pretty spot and I can see why it would be popular in summer.




We walked back through the woods and came out to a rather marshy area opposite where our boat was moored and looked across to the pier. There were a couple of young men fishing but apart from that, everything was quiet and serene. We chatted on the way back about our impressions of the island group and both agreed that it was okay, but nothing special and that if we had been in a larger archipelago, then we would more than likely have given this bay a miss and tried somewhere else. Still, you don't know these things until you've tried and we were not sorry to have taken a look.




The other thing which occurred to us is that this place is reachable by road as it lies on the mainland. That would make it less likely that we'd come in busier times as it could be crowded with day trippers. The other boat owners, who were all from Motala told us that normally one does not lie alongside the pier as we all have done as in season there are 20 or more boats here. We couldn't imagine why, but then the rather worrying thought occurred to me "Perhaps there is so little choice that this seems good". It's made me more determined to take the boat out to the coast, canal or not. I really need my fix of archipelago life with its myriad choices and variety of landscape to fit any mood. Am I being too fussy, I wonder?




The forecast in the morning was of real concern with the winds shifting to the south and increasing up to a strong gale. We needed to get home as Bruce and Sheila were there on their own and would need food and water by tomorrow at the latest - and the forecast for tomorrow was even worse. But I was worried about being out on the open water in these winds.




A quick look at the above map will show you why. As you can see, we are moored just above the town of Karlsborg and we need to get back to Motala with the winds sweeping up at gale force from the southern part of the lake. The water will be able to travel for over 100 kms unhindered and I'm not too keen to see just how big and powerful those waves will be. To make matters worse, it's becoming wavy in here as the water had started to sweep around the rocks and the wind is forcing the boat closer to the pier. So we were damed if we stayed or left and in a coin toss, leaving won, so we set out towards the opening, confident that things would be fine. I mean, it's a lake not the Southern Ocean and it was a gale not a ripping southerly buster. We were only three hours away from port, how bad could it be?




I have never been so scared in my entire life! Once we were out and saw the waves, it was too late to turn back and we had no choice but to continue on what turned out to be like being on a combination of the Mad Mouse and a giant washing machine. The boat handled the conditions well, but I was worried as we were in the midst of a churning sea, with long waves of around two to three metres high at intervals of about a boat length. What made it particularly dangerous was that they were breaking waves. Every fith or so wave actually broke over the boat as she ploughed into the water and we were constantly bathed in buckets and buckets of cold water as it crashed over the dodgers. Poor Lars-Göran, who was steering bore the brunt of it, but we both got a good drenching as water swirled over the deck and into the cockpit.

We had rugged up well and we were both wearing life jackets, life harness with a lifeline firmly attached to the boat, wellies, souwesters and oilskins. Though the rather iffy seams on my old Gill jacket were no longer really water tight and by the time we arrived at the other side after a three hour roller coaster ride, I was soaked down to my knickers. Even here, the water was slamming into the piers with great power and we were glad to round the peninsula at Råssnäs and into the comparative calm of our mooring buoy.




What about Lambi, you are all thinking? Well, she slept through it all, safe in her basket in a dry part of the cockpit under the sprayhood. She had been wearing her lifejacket and life line and her basket was covered with a waterproof jacket. "Waves? What waves?" she seemed to say as she stretched, yawned and shook herself when we uncovered her.

We on the other hand were cold and wet, so I heated up some soup while Lars-Göran lit the diesel heater and we both stripped off and put on some warm, dry clothes on. It's amazing how much better you feel when you are warm and dry with nice hot soup in your tummy. Then we picked up and sorted through some of the things which had been wet as we did not have the bilge pump on while we sailed and water had filled up the bilge and flooded some of the floor.

Up with the tent to keep out the wind, out with the sopping wet mat, the jackets, sailing overalls, life jackets and we set about creating order from the mess inside. We tend to stow things fairly securely, so I only had a few spice jars fall down from the spice rack, oven mits and tea towels that came off their hooks and a couple of leaflets and a book on the floor which got wet.

We rowed back to land in heavy winds and the threat of rain in a darkening sky, loaded up with plastic bags of clothes and linen that needed to be washed and dried. When I stepped on land, I nearly cried I was so relieved to be home again. Later in the evening, safe on my couch, warmed by a red wine, I wondered just how we had managed to get home in one piece. When you are out there in the situation, you have to simply get on with doing your job and concentrating on how you will do it. It is also very physically challenging so you don't get a chance to dwell. You must concentrate on the next thing to do and most important of all, to keep yourself on the boat. In the waters we found ourselves in today, it was wet and violent and we knew that if we fell overboard we'd have a ninety-nine percent chance of drowning. Quite a sobering and depressing statistic that makes me less inclined to go out on the lake in a southerly blow ever again. Perhaps I am meant to sail only in the protected waters of a real archipelago and leave the white knuckle stuff to people like Ellen Macarthur.

At the moment, my head is just so full of lists that it's spinning. I must be suffering from the early onset of old-age forgetfulness because I'm increasingly finding that I really have to write things down. I then promptly lose the scrap of paper and have to start all over, or else weeks later I find these crumpled envelopes in my handbag full of lists of things we need to buy, things to accomplish, long-range plans, boat lists, lists of lists.

Funnily enough, I've also noticed that these lists are written in a mixture of English and Swedish (usually whichever word is shorter). Of course, sometimes I only know the Swedish word for a special piece of boat equipment. And sometimes I even write a half-English, half-Swedish term that only I could possibly understand. What is happening to my language skills?

So on one of these endless lists was "Buy Bruce and Sheila a new cage". The cage they came in was a bit worse for wear when we got it, but I'd never really seen anything much that I liked, so here they are years later with the same cage that I have to keep sticking back together with duct tape all of the time. In a fit of what I thought was genius, I started looking at a Swedish version of ebay called Blocket. I searched in our area for a cage and found one. It was listed at a great price, so I clicked on the link. Why did I look?




Along with the cage comes this gorgeous, sad little guy. The ad said that his mate had recently died and that he really needed to be with other birds, so the owner was reluctantly selling him complete with all of his equipment. I could feel the tears starting to prick the back of my eyes. I so wanted that bird, though I know that Bruce would have other ideas as he's pretty sure that Sheila's his bird, so to speak.

I know I should have stopped then, but it was like passing a car crash when you know you ought not look, but can't help yourself. I couldn't believe how many little birdies needed a home and I angled for a way to convince Lars-Göran that I needed a new twenty nine room mansion to house all of them. He is tougher than me and while he was moved as well by the cockatiels, love birds, budgies, parrots and macaws to be saved, he shut down the computer, told me not to go to that bit again and took me out for a drive instead to Lake Tåkern.




Lake Tåkern is regarded as the foremost bird lake in Northern Europe. As you can see from the map, there are four visitors' areas round the lake with paths and bird watching towers. And this is all but a very short drive from our home!

We first stopped at Hov (pronounced "Hoove"), where we took a short 200 metre walk through the woods to the bird tower. I wasn't really prepared for the sheer scale of the lake - it's enormous at 12 kilometres long and 8 kilometres wide. I read on the information board that during the nineteenth century they had tried to drain the lake in order to gain more agricultural land and that the level dropped by several metres between 1842-4. By 1845, the average depth was only 0.8 m and as a result, the reed beds began to spread out, the water meadows became well established and the lake began to attract birds. So really, the epoch of Tåkern as a bird lake is no more than 150 years old.

This was a very well set up spot with picnic tables, paths and ramps that made even the tower accessible for disabled people. And what a view! This area is especially famous for the large numbers of cranes, geese and ducks that stop here during the autumn migration. There were birds everywhere.





We then drove to the southern part of the lake, stopping at the Glänås visitors’ area. Again, we followed the footpath around to the three level bird-watching tower, from where we could see the different types of habitats that Lake Tåkern has to offer. As with the Hov area, it was well provided with picnic tables, boardwalks and ramps to the lower level of the tower and masses of information. We had our lunch here enjoying the sunny day and surrounded by a chorus of birds, buzzing insects, frogs and an occasional moo in the distance.




We saw huge numbers of birds out on the water. I'll write the names in both Swedish and English, partly because it's good for me to learn the names and also because I have readers who speak both languages. In fact, I had to struggle to find the English names of some of these birds as they are wholly unfamiliar to me. There were great colonies of various types of geese - Greylag Geese (grågås), Bean Geese (sädgås), Canada geese (kanadagås) and Barnacle Geese (vitkindad gås). Far away on the northern shore (those white dots in the distance) were huge flocks of Mute Swans (knölsvan). And nearby there were dozens of different species of ducks, all loudly gabbling to each other.




Surrounding the lake were water meadows, framed by the distant hills of Omberg. As in former times, these meadows are maintained by a combination of mowing and grazing. It's a way they have discovered of maintaining the the rich biodiversity of the region. If it were simply left alone, the scrub would eventually take over, obliterating the meadows and many species of sun loving orchids, primroses, genetians and grasses would perish. Today there was a herd of cattle out on the meadow in the sunshine, sloshing through the swampy ground and cutting the grass.




The other thing I noticed was the incredible number of insects around us. I wonder what it is like in summer? There were beetles scurrying around, one or two butterflies and an amazing array of pretty dragonflies everywhere. They covered the benches, sunning themselves happily then buzzing off over to the reeds again.




I read on the information board, that this one was called a "Ruddy Darter" which made me laugh as my father often substituted the work ruddy for the more colourful expletive bloody when he was annoyed. In Swedish, this dragonfly is sensibly called blodröd ängstrollslända. While we ate, a small, golden looking frog hopped over the grass to check us out.




It was quite tiny and literally glittered in the sunshine. I think that it is a marsh frog (sjögroda), though I'm not certain. It was very cute sitting there, then hopping casually away. I feel like I'm living in an episode of Animal Planet.

At this spot, there begins a trail around 2 kilometres long which leads through the reedbeds and up to a smaller birdwatching tower. There are also a couple of hides along the trail and it is an ideal place from which to more closely observe the birds, plants and insects here.

Today, we saw one of my favourite birds close up in the reeds - the elegant heron (häger).




The heron surely must be one of the most attractive wading birds in Sweden. I read that the breeding adults like this one have a plume or tuft at the back of the head, with the juveniles looking similar but lacking this plume. That will be something to look out for next summer when we are out sailing. They are fairly shy birds, so it's usually not possible to get close to them and they tend to both fly and hunt alone, though they seem to nest in fairly large colonies.

Further away in the mudflats were some mute swans (knölsvan).




It's funny that they are called "mute" as they do make a rather nasty hissing sound if approached. They're large birds and very aggressive when breeding, driving other birds away from the area. I love to watch them fly with with their neck extended and regular slow wingbeats making a great whooping sound that is so unmistakable.

Out near the middle of the lake were some of the much loathed Canada geese (kanadagås).




They have quite attractive plumage, but it is a North American interloper, having been introduced by some short sighted individual a few years back. The big problem is that it encroaches on the native geese by competing with them for food, nesting places and other resources. It is also much larger than any of the native geese and in some areas of Sweden, they have reached nuisance levels, with hundreds of them alighting in parks and school grounds, leaving behind huge mounds of droppings.




In autumn, most geese migrate in huge flocks like this one, with each bird flying slightly off centre from the one in front of them in order to benefit from its wake, which in turn makes flying slightly easier. It's quite common apparently to see several of these flocks in the air at one time here on Tåkern, all heading south for winter. I read that in mid October, there can be up to 20,000 Bean Geese alone on the lake! What a sight that must be.




I have no idea what kind of ducks these are flying overhead, but I do admire their neat little feet and elegant lines, even if the wing beats are somewhat frantic and less graceful than the bigger birds. Autumn and winter are excellent times to see many different species of duck on the lake, returning south after their brief but productive northern summer. Sweden experiences quite harsh winters, so most of these birds will continue south to warmer countries, though I have seen that some of them stay here throughout the snowy winter.

But what cheered me most today was seeing these gorgeous birds for the first time.




These are cranes (trana) and are the most spectacular of the wading birds. They make a really unusual, primitive sounding squawk reminiscent of the call made by a B-movie pterodactyl. This quite appropriate in some ways as cranes are thought to be the oldest surviving species of bird on the planet.




It's the wrong season to see it of course, but cranes have a rather spectacular mating dance. The male and female face each other and leap into the air like brolgas, with their wings extended and their feet held forwards. They bow to each other, throw grass into the air and squawk as they dance.




I read that at the end of September and during October, you can come here and see what they call "The Big Lift-off" (det stora lyftet), when thousands of geese leave the lake at dawn heading over to the fields to feed. They say that even the 2,000 cranes take part in this. I'd love to witness such a spectacle, but Lars-Göran drew my attention again to the word gryning (meaning dawn or daybreak). As if we'd be anywhere but tucked up in our warm cosy beds at that hour of the day.

Though if we get that big mansion I can see in the distance, we could install powerful binoculars and see it from our bedroom. Surrounded by every bird I can rescue on Blocket.

Yeah, I know.... dream on!

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.

In the middle of all these renovations, we had a surprise visit from Madde, who is home unexpectedly from Africa for a couple of weeks. We warned her that the place was not really ready yet, but I guess after living in a Masai village, this place would seem quite civilised by comparison, so she said she'd slum it with us for a couple of days. And I know one small, white, furry member of the household was beside herself with joy as Madde stepped off the bus in Mjölby. It's been fabulous to have her to stay and the big, satisfied grin on Lars-Göran's face was wonderful to see.

We took some time out from our work to show Madde around our town, but also took a trip out into the countryside to see the region. One day we spent the day at a nearby national park called Omberg. We had no idea what to expect at all, but we were entranced with the place and I know this will become a favourite picnic spot for us.

Since 2003, a great deal of the Omberg region has been made an ecopark, developed by Sveaskog. An ecopark is a large, continuous forest landscape that has been deemed to be of great biological and ecological value. The Omberg Ecopark contains a varied landscape of deciduous forests, enclosed pasture land, groves of great oaks, natural spruce and old beech and elm forests plus a limestone marsh area rich with orchids. I can't wait to see this place in autumn - it ought to be stunning.

Our first stop was at a place appropriately called Hjässan (meaning the crown as in the crown of your head). It was a mere 800m walk from the car park, which sounds quite close, but was a sheer, vertical climb that nearly killed me. Am I really that unfit?

It was a clear, if very windy day and from this summit, 264 metres above sea level we were rewarded with a magnificent view of the surrounding countryside. From here you can see for literally miles around – with the plains of Östergötland to the east and Lake Vättern to the west. I counted no fewer than eighteen churches in just this small scene in front of me.




Looking westwards, we could see Lake Vättern and the tiny hamlet of Hästholmen (The horse isle). It is a very old settlement and I read that in 2000, it had celebrated its 700th anniversary. In the 14th century, this community was a town with a thriving trade and shipping industry. In 1918, the steamship Per Brahe sank outside of Hästholmen. This peaked my interest as I knew that one of the drowned passengers n that accident had been the illustrator and artist John Bauer, an icon in Swedish art and one of my favourite illustrators. You can see samples of his evocative pictures here. That will be another place I have to visit.




We all enjoyed climbing the observation tower, looking at the countryside and walking around the area. There are benches and picnic tables set up, so I was kicking myself that we had left fika in the car. What a perfect spot to sit and contemplate life. And there was also the thought that I might need sustenance to allow me to make the return journey to the car!




We continued along the narrow, winding road that skirted the shore of the lake, marvelling at the sheer limestone cliffs and the startling views which reminded me so much of sections of the Great Ocean Road along Victoria's south west coast. Below us were the great elms and cattle grazing on the rich grasslands, framed by the brilliant, clear blue waters of the lake.




At one stage we rounded a bend and glimpsed a view northwards towards the tiny hamlet of Borghamn. You can see the waves just rolling in as it was blowing at around 30 knots out on the lake. I had to blink twice to see if I was dreaming, as the wild waters look more like a sea than a lake. We decided to take a slight detour and check out the little harbour we could see in the distance.




Borghamn has been here since the early Middle Ages. This area has been home to a limestone quarry, which supplied building material for Alvastra Abbey and many of the local churches. The quarry is still in operation today and we saw limestone slabs ready to be loaded onto boats for shipping. Though maybe not today as it was awfully rough, even inside the breakwater. Only the sea gulls seemed to be out today braving the rough weather.




We watched in awe and amazement as wave after wave crashed into the piers and at times even over the pier, sending the gulls wheeling into the air in a perfect formation. How they can all rise simultaneously and not bump into each other is incredible. I suppose I've observed this many times before but never really thought about the fact that the group seems to turn and manoeuvre as a single unit, changing direction almost instantaneously. I could have watched them all day.




I was also thinking about the awesome power of the waves and I wondered what it would be like to be caught out in strong westerly winds like this. I made a mental note to always check the forecast thoroughly before venturing out onto these waters.

We had afternoon tea back in Vadstena and walked along the foreshore. It's a beautiful sunny day, the view was fabulous and I could see that even here the water had managed to creep over the seawall. I wonder why there is nobody sitting at that bench enjoying the view?




One of the reasons that we were happy to have Madde with us is that it is my mother-in-law's eightieth birthday and we can travel up to Stockholm together for her party. While Lars-Göran's brother and cousin are organising the food, it is our job to collect money from everybody and to arrange the floral bouquet from the family as well as the family present. Madde knows her granny's taste really well and as Lars-Göran hates to buy presents and gets so stressed at the thought of shopping in general, it's wonderful to have a friendly ally on hand to help me out. We wandered through town, browsing here and there, discussing and studying various possibilities, judging the kind of thing Evy would like and going to the card shop for card and paper, the jeweller for the gift (a glittery Swarovski crystal necklace and matching ear rings) and the florist to select a huge bouquet to be made up for us to collect in the morning. We drove the following day up to Stockholm, where Evy was having an open house to celebrate her big day (August 29th).




When we walked in, Lars-Göran quipped "It looks like God's waiting room in there. I think the average age is around 450 years old". Evy was happily surrounded by old friends and family, some of who had travelled from Finland to be here.

Out on her sunny balcony, the younger generation of cousins were sitting and chatting, catching up on all of the family news. It's funny how much it resembled an Australian party, with three generations present dividing themselves into groups - the "oldies" in the lounge, the younger ones out of earshot and the youngest generation looking for a way to escape. And as usual, it was a couple of us women who were kept busy serving food and drink. Lars.Göran's cousin Karin was wonderful and the two of us were run off our feet keeping the cocktails, nibbles, smörgåstårta, drinks, cake and coffee circulating.




The guests were all having a good time and Evy herself was beaming. Among some of the happy guests I snapped these three lovely ladies eyeing off the fruit platter. From left to right, they are my sister-in-law Mille, a vaguely familiar poodle who funnily enough shares the same birthday as Mille (perhaps they ought to be together more permanently?) and completing the trio is my stepdaughter Madde.




The special guests who came all of the way from Malax in northern Finland for the day were Lars-Göran's 86 year old auntie Hjördis (his late father's sister) and her daughter Karin. It's really hard to believe that Hjördis is 86 - it must be all of that fresh country air that keeps her looking so youthful! She was bright and chatty and full of energy and both she and Karin worked hard all day and had even brought gifts of traditional Finnish food for us to try.




As the Finnish guests were staying with Evy, we opted to rent a small apartment in the same complex for the night and it was with swollen ankles and feeling dead beat that I gratefully fell into bed after the last plate had been dried and put away and Evy was safely tucked into bed. She was exhausted, but so happy - and that after all was the object of the exercise. More than the flowers, cards and gifts, she enjoyed seeing all of her children and grandchildren together for the day. With busy lifestyles and being spread out across Sweden, it does not always happen so often.

In the morning we went up after breakfast and set out the array of flowers she had got - it was a bright, sunny addition to her dining room. We stayed for a while, then left her to get some rest and set out to drive home again. But first there was another stop to make.




The road home from Stockholm takes us right past our friend Beth's home, so we had to go in and bring a small gift to welcome her new son and have a bit of a cuddle. Beth's mum was also over from Australia for a visit, so it was an opportunity to meet her as well. Lambi made herself right at home. When Beth opened the door, instead of wildly leaping all over her and barking like a lunatic, she sauntered right in, glancing briefly at Beth as though to say "Ciao. I'll be with you in a moment", then it was up the stairs, taking the first left, traversing the kitchen at a gallop and coming to a sliding stop in front of the cat's bowls, where she drank Lille's water and snacked on some of her cat biscuits! How cheeky - and to think that the little rat remembered all of this from our last visit here!

Fortunately Beth loves animals and she thought it was funny. I'm pretty sure that Lille did not share her amusement and Lars-Göran saw her later in the day sniffing around her bowl and turning up her nose at what she must have considered the "stench of a dog" surrounding everything. But the main purpose of the visit was to cuddle little baby Oscar - and what a sweetheart he is!




He's just so cuddly, clinging on like a little baby koala bear. He is so alert and strong that it's hard to remember that he is still a newborn. He certainly knows who mum is, though and it was very touching to see him follow her with his eyes, to react to her voice and give her a big, beaming heartwarming smile. I think Beth is hooked.




I had bought something from a gorgeous little baby shop in Vadstena called Krusbär (gooseberry). I'm still stunned by the variety and quality of the shops in such a tiny town. This is a pretty shop, the staff are really friendly and I'd been itching to go in and look around, so it was a labour of love to choose a little outfit for Mr Oscar. And what could be more appropriate for him than a little jumpsuit with pictures of lambs on it. Okay, I admit that it was Lambi's idea.




Isn't he handsome? I see a future as a lady killer ahead of him. After a couple of hours of laughing and cooing over the baby, Lars-Göran dragged me away, made me return Oscar to his mother and we made our way back home to continue working on the apartment. But of course I found another distraction, by suggesting that we go along and see the harvest fair at a nearby town (Borensberg). It's only a tiny place and one we had glimpsed from the Göta Canal, so we figured it would be some kind of small, low-key country fair.

Yeah, right! Think Royal Adelaide Show, just without the CWA scones the Sheep Dog Trials but with the crushing atmosphere of Sideshow Alley and Showbag Hall.




What a shock! We read in today's paper that there had been 40,000 people there and I well believe it. It was just crazy and we inched our way along openmouthed at the enormous number of stalls, craning our necks to get a better view at the wares on offer. I bought some more cute socks, some fresh licorice, locally produced honey, some delicious garlicky mettwurst, a new leather belt for Lars-Göran and a few bits and pieces. I would have bought more but I found the crush quite oppressive, so we escaped as soon as we could.




And now I can't put it off any longer, so I have to tackle the bathroom with my handy Tech7. It is starting to look better already and with the addition of some furniture and fittings, it will be great. If I get my behind off the couch, away from the computer and actually do some work, that is.