After the disappointment of last Saturday's Motala markets, I was hoping that the ones here in Vadstena would make up for it. I'd read a little about it all being styled on the old medieval markets and that it was held indoors at the castle. The weekend had seen busloads of people descend on the town, so I was guessing that it must have been worthwhile to make the trip.

We set off bright and early (well, for us, anyway!) and made our way across town towards the castle. On the way, I stopped by my new hairdresser to make an appointment for a hair cut and colour for Christmas week. Better to do it as we were passing or I'd totally forget until it was too late.




Isn't it a cute building? It dates from the seventeenth century and used to be the stables attached to a blacksmith's workshop behind. While it is modern and well appointed inside, it still retains the air of being quite historical and it is typical of the way the town has managed to maintain the look and feel of a meddieval town, but still provide the modern comforts that we crave. I like the way they marry the two concepts so seamlessly.

The little errand done, we crossed the road, passed by the library (housed in the old mental asylum!) and across to the park adjacent to the castle. It was a bright, clear cold winter's day and everything looked clear and well defined in the clear winter chill. That blue sky makes all of the difference! I was quite pleased to see that there was only one coach in the car park, which gave me hope that it would not be too crowded inside.




The markets I've been to in the past are usually only for a couple of days. Well, that's not strictly true, as the ones in Stockholm at Gamla Stan and Skansen go for several weeks. But generally, the ones at towns and suburbs are only a one or two day affair. That this one is open for 10 days makes me curious to see it. We went into the largely deserted courtyard and while L-G answered the call of nature, I warmed myself by the open brazier - and lovely and toasty warm it was, too.




We bought our tickets and decided to start with the main castle first, where we saw that handicrafts were on display on the first two floors. The main hall (the Great Hall) and the banqueting rooms had been cleared of their usual furniture to house the market, though several of the tapestries still hung on the walls, with the colours and details still strong after 450 years. This one depicts the bloodline of thew royal family responsible for the castle being built. Despite what the wikipedia article in English says, the castle was built not to protect Stockholm (which is hundreds of miles away!) but as a show of strength to keep the unruly population of this area in control.




Today, kit's very peaceful in the area, so the castle is strictly a tourist attraction as well as being used in summer for Opera performances, large scale concerts and the winter Christmas markets. There were quite a few people inside, but it was not crushing and I was able to wander around in relative peace and look at the items on sale. There was a lovely range of goods to suit all tastes. The rough, whitewashed stone walls were an ideal backdrop to the markets.




Those cute little hairy figures (tomtar) in the foreground are very typical Swedish decorations for hristmas and I bought a few to enclose in a package I'm assembling to send to Lars-Göran's eldest daughter who is spending her first Christmas away from Sweden. She'll be in Kenya and I'm guessing she'll be very homesick come Christmas time, so a parcel of goodies from Sweden will be very welcome, I'm sure.




These lovely fresh wreaths also caught my eye. The fragrance of pine was beautiful and each of the wreaths was different. The woman also had plain wreaths as well, with a selection of decorations that you could buy and either do it yourself or ask her to decorate an individual one in your taste to pick up later. I was tempted, but I've just bought a beautiful wreath in autumnal tones from a shop in Linköping, so I couldn't really justify a second one. I mean how would I sneak it home?




As we made our way to the rooms upstairs, we passed the casement windows, which were decorated with traditional straw decorations. These are mostly made of rye straw, decorated with red ribbon and often served a dual purpose, especially if placed outside. As well as being decorative, they could supplement the meagre winter diet of some of the tiny birds that winter here in this harsh climate. These ones however were on the inside and they sparkled with a golden glow in the sunshine.




The upstairs area with the banqueting halls and other state rooms would usually be furnished with paintings and period furniture as you see here. The castles I've seen in Sweden remind me a lot of Scottish castles. They don't have the prettiness and fine wall coverings etc that you find in a place like Versailles or even some of the English castles which are more like pleasure palaces. Here in the north, they are rougher in the interiors, much more sparsely furnished and austere - a reminder that they were foremost fortresses.




I had to have a picture of this stall, which reads "L-G's Hobby & Träslöjd" (L-G's Hobby & Wooden Handcrafts). Who knew he was moonlighting on the side :) Actually, this stall had a beautiful array of hand made wooden toys and decorative as well as household items. There were also stalls selling straw decorations, hand painted glass ornaments, hand sewn and knitted items, clothing, lace, leather goods, sheepskin boots, handmade tomtar, gorgeous hand-dipped candles shaped like a crown. It was a market full of great things and I wandered around happily watching the craftsmen at work and buying here and there.

My only slight criticism is that I found the sellers a little pushy. As soon as you stood in front of an item, many of them began the "hard sell" patter that I so loathe, so I was scared off showing an interest in anything.




The upper floors housing the chapel and queen's chambers were closed to the public, but there were several sketches on the stairwells, depicting the castle at various stages in history. It has altered considerably from the original design, and even from a relatively "recent" picture such as this one from the early 1900s. The castle is right on the shore, which means that the park surrounding it and the whole harbour area has been added sometime in the twentieth century.




Being indoors meant that we were protected from the elements, although today was a beautiful winter's day. Imagine if it was raining or snowing? How much nicer to be inside looking out at the weather. Most people stuck to the main rooms, so I was able to grab a little peace and quiet just sitting in the window casements on the stairwell like a contented cat and look out at our new town. A brief respite was perfect to rest my feet and think about what to buy at the produce area, which was housed in a separate section in the castle's western moat walls.




What an absolute feast for the senses! Now THIS is what Christmas markets are all about. My first priority was the parcel to Kenya, so I looked for interesting flavoured "rock" lollies from the nearby town of Gränna. I found violet and liquorice as well as toffeed almonds, locally made julmust, mustard, hardbread and other goodies that a Swede would miss from home.

There were big wheels of cheese, locally made sausages and other smallgoods, aromatic herbs, oils and vinegars, baked goods, warm mulled wine and cordials, smoked fish, smoked reindeer, jams, gift baskets, lollies, cards, wrapping paper - in fact all you could possibly need to make up your christmas table.




We went around sampling the offerings and buying bread (a traditional vört bread, a saffron bread and a rye bread), sipping mulled wine, nibbling on the toffeed almonds and finally pigging out at the stall selling dried friut and other nibbly stuff. We loaded up with wasabi snacks, chilli sticks, mexican rice crackers - hey I even bought a local smoked fish. It's called sik, which translates as lavaret, which is apparently a a species of freshwater fish in the salmon family. I have no idea how to serve it, but I'm sure I'll find a way. Google Sverige, here I come.




By now we were fully laden with parcels and feeling well pleased with our haul, except that there were no straw pigs! I can't understand it - you are literally falling over them at the markets I've been to in Stockholm. Maybe they are only a Stockholm thing, though I've seen them pictured on flyers for the markets here. Come on, little straw piggies, come out from hiding. I promise I'm not the big, bad wolf.

The wind came up in the night. Strong. Cold. The dead leaves of autumn fly ahead of it. The bare branches of the willows and the maples and the aspens protest it. The temperature drops all day, pushing toward the single digits. During the night, the rain has ceased, the low clouds blown away and dispersed by a whipping south-east wind. The day was bright, clear and the morning was pierced by a chorus of bird-song.





It was the sounds of these birds which woke me and I went to the kitchen window on the lee side of the house and leaned on the sill to watch the tiny redpolls (gråsiska or Carduelis flammea at play. I breathed in the damp, mossy-scented air and looked up to see a couple of thrushes carolling away in the birch tree, adding to the scene and enveloped in the sweet mistiness of a perfect autumn morning. What a lovely place this is to wake up in.






It was a day when Mother Nature beckoned and tempted me to go out. It’s cool this morning and really windy, windy enough to whip your pants legs, tumble leaves along the beach, to make you keep your hands in your pockets and to lean slightly into it on the way back.




It's so wonderful to make you way through the maze of cobblestoned lanes and little unexpected squares towards the open shores of the lake. From quite a distance away, you could hear the sound of the breakers crashing on the shore and feel the wind as it plucked at your clothes and blew your hair into disorder.




High above, the clouds parted for an instant and a weak, watery gleam of sunshine broke through. The damp streets threw back the reflection of this light and the stone and slate were washed in gold. The sunlight disappeared as swiftly as it had come and all was grey again. But the wind remained, blowing intensely and sending cascades of spray into the air.




The picture shows a wild wind-driven sea crashing over the rocks at the southern end of the bay. I was balancing on the slippery rocks right at the edge of the surging sea with waves breaking on either side and at my feet, an exhilarating, exciting and noisy place to be.




As well as the wind and spray, it was so interesting to see the wind blowing gusts of sunshine and shadows across the water, with clouds rapidly forming then dispersing to reveal glimpses of an eggshell-blue sky. The streets, the park and the foreshore are quite deserted, the hordes of summer tourists having long departed and the locals electing to stay behind closed doors.




The power of wind and water was quite mesmerising and as the waves crashed into the seawall, it was the water itself which drew my attention. Yes, it was blue, but it was made up of thousands of different hues and I could see how difficult it would be to paint the scene. With a camera and a little luck, you could capture the instant and perhaps the colours. Or could you?




No, it wasn't possible. What you can't see is that towards the sandy shore where it was shallow and translucent, the water was almost a jade-green streaked with aquamarine. Over towards the rocks and seaweed, it darkened to indigo, while far out where a small fishing boat bucketed its way across the waves towards the lighthouse, it became a deep Prussian blue. It was as though the water lived and breathed, while it swelled and formed waves which themselves resembled moving sculptures of green glass.




I just love the green glow of sunlight through the waves and the spray dancing on top of them. Though of course, my enjoyment comes from being the observor, standing in safety on solid ground. I am so happy to not be out on the boat in such conditions!

Now home for a warm drink, I think.

Yesterday when I woke up, I saw that most of Saturday's snow had melted again and been replaced by hazy rain. But brief though it was, the snow certainly had put me in the mood for Christmas - for baking, wearing warm socks, sipping hot tea and mulled wine and spending cosy evenings curled up in my favourite chair - and of course, going to Christmas markets with their assorted piggies.

Pigs seem to be everywhere for the Christmas season in Sweden; pig motifs on cards, table linen, aprons, wrapping paper, gingerbread biscuits shaped like pigs, piggy marzipan cakes, straw pigs, big pork hams for the traditional meal, etc. It's all rather macabre really, since poor old Wilbur is not only cute and pink, but he's also firmly on the menu.

I had thought that Sweden would be all about the reindeer motif (which ironically is the most common in the Australia), since they seem to have a lot of them in Lappland. But I suppose it would traumatise kids here too much if they thought that Santa served up the reindeer after they had hauled him around the globe in one night. It sounds like the sort of thing that Amundsen did with his doggies. And we all know how that traumatised me forty years ago.




This year I'm on a mission to buy a couple of straw pigs for someone. Which is a great excuse to loiter around and study them at my leisure. Lars-Göran can't hurry me on or roll his eyes as I'm researching, aren't I? I mean, I have to make sure it is cute, don't I? And who can stop at one. I've never hear a story about one pig. The familiar fairytale talks about the Three Little Pigs. So I have to get three - one for you and two for me sounds fair. Oh wait! What about the rhyme my mum used to do with my toes - there were FIVE pigs in that one, beginning with "This little piggy went to market...."


Can you tell that I was really excited before we left for Motala. Despite the overcast weather and the constant drizzle, I was happily looking forward to reliving some of my previous market experiences. The pictures I had in mind were similar to these ones. And that was reinforced by the blurb I read on their website:

"Stämningsfull julmarknad på torget och i hamnen med mycket marschaller och glöggservering." (basically, a Christmas market in the square and harbour, full of atmosphere with lots of welcoming candles and mulled wine). So I got a very unwelcome shock when the market turned out to look like this:




No atmosphere, no charm and worst of all - no straw pigs! How could that be? I had a bad feeling when I saw that the first stall sold mammoth crocs. And that was the highlight - things went radidly downhill from there. I walked around the dozen or so hastily erected stalls with a sinking heart. The unexciting offerings included a stall selling scrubbing brushes and baskets, another selling lottery tickets, one selling lucky dips, a Dunkin' Donuts caravan, a "Piss-Weak World" style Chocolate Wheel, a lolly stall with generic sweets you can buy anywhere, a bric-a-brac stall, a florist selling door wreaths etc. I was nearly in tears with disappointment.

Where were the Christmas goodies, the smell of hot sugared almonds and warm mulled wine mixed with spruce and straw? Where were the stalls selling ornaments, sweets, smoked meats, fish, cheese, mustards, jams, cordials, bread and buns? Where were the handcrafts - wrought iron candlestick holders, glass decorations, straw goats and pigs, cards, hats and gloves? It was very quiet in the car all the way home. I'll be crossing this off my list of things to do in future.


I did however cheer up later in the day when I heard that an Australian (Dave Downey) had won the world Santa competitions being held as part of the Snoyran Games at Gällivare in the north of Sweden. I laughed when I read that when he was asked how he practices, Mr Downey replied: "Kangaroos, sheep, porridge eating, of course, the usual Santa activities. It's just a bit harder in the heat that's all." Go Dave, you show them!

At least we still have our own Vadstena markets to look forward to. They are advertises as Gammeljul (Old Christmas) and is held in the majestic renaissance castle on the shore of the lake. In the afternoon, we went for a walk in town and passed one of the castle entrances.




They've decorated it with boughs of freshly cut spruce interspersed with pretty, soft white lights. Two floors of the castle are lit up and it is here the handcraft markets are held, with foodstuffs being sold on the other side inside the castle walls and a medieval style market in the main courtyard. It was closing time (4pm), so people had dispersed, but we had a little peep in the courtyard ehrough the late afternoon gloom.




People were leaving, laughing and chatting away, laden with bags. It's a good sign that there is at least something worth looking at inside. We talked about trying to come down on Tuesday for a good look at what is on offer. As well as the little pigs, I need something to send to Madde in Africa to remind her of Christmas at home.

We looked at this morning's paper and saw that they raved about the Motala market (Swedish only), which begs the question, exactly where were they reporting from? Surely not from the same place we were!

This morning we woke up to one of those magical winter days of bitter cold, frost and pale, cloudless skies. The sun shone, sending long shadows, but there was little warmth in its rays as the iceman had truly come. Outside of the kitchen window lay a white, white world with the leafless trees looking like black lace against that pale sky.




It was far too beautiful a day to languish inside, so we determined to rug up well against the biting chill and go out walking around the town and seeing what it was like in the snow. We were very fortunate as well to see this little fellow fly in and sit on a branch of the birch tree nearest our window, feeding on tidbits and trying to keep warm. He's a gorgeous bullfinch (domherre) and was a very welcome addition to our breakfast scene.




I've never seen one of them in the flesh before, though they are very common motifs on Christmas decorations in Sweden. And you can see why - they are instantly recognisable with their bright pinkish-red breast and cheeks, grey back and black cap and tail. Such a cheerful, busy little bird! I find watching birds out of my window to be really fascinating and so calming. It always brings a smile to my face and can banish any winter blue feelings instantly.

By the time we set off, some of the snow was melting, especially on the roads where passing cars created friction with their studded winter tyres. It made the conditions slippery and icy in places, but I had my halkskydd with me in case it was too slippery out. If it wasn't for them, I'm sure I would have broken my neck by now. We walked briskly towards the old railway station, near the castle.




The Christmas markets were in full swing today and the car park at the castle was absolutely jam packed with tour buses. A kind reader had already emailed me and warned me about the crush there on a weekend, so we determined to go during the week sometime when things are possibly a little quieter. For now, we stayed on this side of the moat and instead went and looked through a few of the smaller shops which were open for trade. My favourite was this lovely gallery called Frukthem.




There was an exhibition of work by local artists and illustrators Johan & Cathrin Hesselstrand. Their work was all inspired by Vadstena and the surrounding area and we both spent quite some time browsing around the gallery. I was particularly drawn to Cathrin's work. My favourite was a stunning view of the castle on a deep, dark, star filled winter night. There was snow all around, the moat was deep frozen and the lone figure of tomte was pulling his sled along the front of the building. It was beautiful and quite arresting. Lars-Göran was more drawn to the summer views of the streets with the rich, warm colours and the leafy vegetation. We are thinking about getting one of them, but in the meantime, I bought some of their Christmas cards with local scenes from Vadstena on them.

We wandered through the antique shop and handwork gallery near the old silos, then walked along the eastern part of the castle moat.




Feel free to click on the picture and see the lovely panorama shot Lars-Göran took of this stately building. Vadstena Castle was built by King Gustav Vasa in 1545 as a fortress and it has that sort of look, doesn't it? It was used as a royal palace until 1716 and another day I'll talk a bit more about what it is like inside. One interesting bit of gossip about the moat is the number of cars that must be fished out of there every year. Swedes are not so used to using handbrakes and the ground around the moat slopes, so scenes like this happen a half a dozen times a year. It makes me nervous about mooring my boat there in future.




But for now we looked at the moat, slowly turning to ice and then turned towards the main street of the town, which lies beyond the castle's gardens. The mood in centrum was busy and buoyant. The shops seemed to be doing a brisk trade, there were people out enjoying the fresh air, window shopping, greeting friends and the small coffee houses and restaurants were full of happy diners.




We stopped at the gallery and looked at some prints, browsed in the newsagent, checked out the window display of the fabulous little gourmet kitchenware shop Kopp & Kanna, the irresistible kids' clothes in Krusbär and went in to the equivalent of an Italian continental deli to savour the food delights. I loved looking at all of the cheeses, pastas, condiments and I couldn't resist buying a lovely Christmas panettone,which we are going to gobble down happily on Christmas day. I just love panettone!

I was looking out for some pointsettias to buy but didn't see any, so I'll wait until next week. I looked with longing at the beautiful straw deers in the florist window and at the colourful amaryllis flowers. I must get a bulb to grow again this year. One window sign in the local costume jewellery shop made me laugh:




The sign reads "Everything in the window 100kr" (that's about $18). Which was funny because there was nothing in the window! We chuckled to ourselves and kept walking along the street to the red tower and then turned towards home, where a nice warming cup of coffee and slice of bun awaited us.

Tomorrow we are off to Motala for their Christmas markets. I admit that I'm really excited as I am anxious to get Christmas on the road this year. I've been to the markets at Nynäshamn, Utö and in Stockholm, so I'm wondering how this one will compare to those ones. With the markets at Vadstena being so big, I'm thinking that Motala, which is ten times the size of our little town ought to have something really special. And only one more sleep.....

I started to beg the minute I heard that the tallest Christmas tree in Europe has been switched on.




"The lights on the tallest Christmas tree in Europe are switched on in the city of Porto, Northern Portugal. The theme for this year's tree is "candles" and it will remain on display until January 7 next year."

There's a webcam which allows you to see the tree live and it can be found here. It's so beautiful.

But Lars-Göran was adamant - no Christmas tree until Christmas eve which is a zillion years away. I want my tree up now! I showed him the footage from Portugal and he just nodded and said "Very nice. And when we live in Portugal, we'll put the tree up when they do and keep with the local tradition. But right now, we live in Sweden"

I was not so easily dissuaded, so I tried another tack. We have an artificial tree, which can be put up at anytime, but traditonally (my tradition, that is) I think the weekend of the Christmas pageant in Adelaide is the right time. I showed him photos sent by friends of this year's pageant, with Santa on his sleigh riding through town on a glorious, hot summer day and Lars-Göran's only remark was that he thought it was ludicrous to wear a red velvet suit in that heat. True, but my point was that according to my tradition, Santa was sitting happily in his Magic Cave at DJ's so it MUST be Christmas. It must be time to put up the decorations at the very least (not mentioning that I'd also "accidentally" put up the tree at the same time).




And to bolster that argument, I showed him pictures also sent by my loyal friends back home, showing me that the Christmas riverbank display on the Torrens at Thebarton was up and running as well. I conveniently forgot to mention the Lobethal Christmas Lights because they don't start until December 9th and that's even later than here in Sweden. We don't want any inconvenient facts getting in the way of a good argument, do we?




But again, he stood firm. While it might be Australian tradition to put up the tree now, while we are in Sweden, we'll do it the local way. *grumble grumble* That argument is not strictly true either as the big department store in Stockholm (NK) unveiled its Christmas windows last weekend. And I saw on the webcam from Slussen that the Stockholm christmas tree near Skeppsbron is up (you can see it in the middle webcam shot here). "Ahhh..." he points out, "That's in Stockholm - what do you expect from big city mentality. It's different out here in the country. In the real Sweden."

So then why are they unveiling the Christmas windows in nearby Motala on Sunday? He maintains that Christmas decorating must wait until this magical day, which is always the first Sunday of Advent - December 2nd this year. Except in Motala, it seems. So I can go and look at the lights and decorations on Sunday, even go to their Christmas markets, but no decorations in Chez Nordström until Vadstena's skyltssöndag on December 2nd! See what I have to put up with? Though today, I see that the big hotel in town has their tree up in the entrance. No wonder I feel deprived.




Perhaps what is making me more tetchy than usual is the joys of menopause, or peri-menopause, or whatever we're calling it these days but referring to the months, nay years, that lead up to the end of our fertility. Mostly, it has been relatively kind to me, being more a collection of annoyances rather than anything else. But every once in a while it throws a whammy my way. An anxiety attack. A case of midlife acne. The whole "guess when your period is going to start or stop - yes, no, yes, maybe, no, almost, no, yes" followed by a crazed clown's evil laugh is probably the worse. But just lately I've been having a lot of nightly hot flushes again after I thought they were a thing of the past. My body thermostat is pushed all the way to high and stuck there. I mean, sure, it saves on heating to be able to happily wear tank tops in Sweden in November, but my family shivers under blankets and gives me those Puss in Boots sad eyes in an effort to find a single drop of pity in me to turn up the real thermostat, the one on the wall in our flat. Hey, they'd probably be happy if I just shut the doors and windows.

Added to that is the fact that it is so dry inside that I wake up in the morning feeling like I've been put through a commercial dryer and climbed out hot, and exhausted. Lars-Göran even feels the discomfort of dry air as his sinuses really hurt and he wakes up with a very dry mouth. We've thought of using a vapouriser, but the one we bought sounds like we have a vacuum cleaner on in the room! Which was why I was stopped in my tracks yesterday when I saw this at the local electrical shop.




It's tiny, effective and above all SILENT! We bought it straight away and used it last niught and today we woke up feeling better than we have for weeks. I can't tell you how good that feels!

It looks as if winter is really setting in now. It is so dark today that we have had the lights on all day. There is a strong wind blowing and it is very cold, with snow blended rain falling in gusty showers. Still, we are in late November so it must be expected. And it won't dampen my enthusiasm for going out to the Christmas market at Motala on Sunday, or the one here in Vadstena during the week. It will just make that warming cup of glögg and bag of freshly roasted almonds all the more welcome.

An eagle-eyed reader emailed me today and commented on the pictures from the other day at the little café, and exclaimed "Marie, you have new glasses!" Errr...yes, I do, but I never expected anyone to actually notice the fact.

They were the last purchase I made before I left Nynäshamn for summer sailing and I didn't write about it at the time because I was too busy with other things and also because I hate shopping for glasses and wanted to forget the whole sorry episode.

There's nothing worse than shopping for new glasses. Well, maybe global famine or an epidemic of bubonic plague, but glasses shopping rates right up there with them in my book. Aside from that, glasses shopping just never feels right. At least for me.

I'm happy to have the eye test and god forbid, with the amount of reading I do, I surely don't want my eyesight to deteriorate. It's just the choosing of the frames that is problematic. I hate it and avoid going to the optician just because we'll have to go through the whole collection, with me screwing up my nose, asking with an irritating whine why I can't just have the same frames or new ones identical to the old ones. I don't like change! And I never look like me anymore. Yes, you're right, I'm behaving like a two year old in full tantrum mode. *stamps foot for effect*

For a start, I'm short sighted, so I need to stand about 1cm from the mirror just to see what the new frames will look like. And that is far too close to comfortably look at myself. I see all of those wrinkles, freckles, large pores, the witchy few hairs on my chin (when did I turn into my Great Aunt Margaret?) and just can't see beyond that. I think around 5 kms away is a good distance from which to view myself in the mirror. And they always say "Stand back and look" which is ridiculous as they know from the eye test that I'm but a whisker away from a white stick and a seeing eye dog.

This time, Lars-Göran got me there by stealth. We were apparently just going into town for a short walk. I should have been suspicious that the dog was not to accompany us. As we passed the optician, he suggested going in to ask something about his glasses (which badly needed replacing!) and while there waiting, I started to try on frames as a bit of a joke, picking out odd ones and turning to him saying "What about these?"




Buoyed by the horrified expression on his face, I quickly turned to the sunglasses and plucked a pair that I knew he'd hate, repeating the question. He pulled a face, then looked at them more closely and asked why they had D&G in huge gold letters on the side. You can tell he has no idea of designer labels or the idea of letting the universe know what expensive brand you are wearing! So I showed him the Dior and DKNY etc on the other glasses, saying that of course, these ones were Dolce & Gabbana. "Don't you mean Dolce & Grabbarna" he said with a perfectly straight face. At which point I cracked up laughing so much that I had to sit down.




For those who don't speak Swedish, the word grabbarna means "the boys" and used in the same way we'd say that the boys were going out fishing. I can't believe he'd seriously think that's what the label was called, but apparently so. After I stopped laughing I told him that it was a high end Italian fashion label favoured by the likes of Madonna and that Gabbana was the surname of one of the founders/designers. But of course, he got the last laugh as when the optician returned with his glasses, he asked if they had time to test my eyes as I needed new glasses. I was too stunned to resist.

As I had guessed, my eyesight had changed. It seems to be getting longer with age, so I have to take my glasses off to read, but need them for longer distances, so my current glasses were unsuitable. Okay, I'll get new lenses but I wanted the same frames! Not possible, apparently. They have been discontinued (probably 3 minutes after I bought them) and there was nothing similar, so we started the whole "Let's try and find a new look" merry-go-round that I hate so much.

Because I'm such a nice person, I'll give you a link so you can do this in the privacy of your own home before having to subject yourself to the indignity of public ridicule. The link is here - just upload a picture of yourself and fire away.

So which look should I go for?

How about the Brian Henderson (from Bandstand) tv frames?




I was feeling very Nana Mouskouri and as I was just warming up for a verse of The White Rose of Athens, Lars-Göran shook his head and said nope.

So how about the school librarian look?




I practised saying "Sshhh" in a stern voice. Then "No running in the library!" But it really wasn't me. I hasten to add that I never once looked in the mirror, which rather threw the girl who was helping us choose. She picked frames and I put them on and turned to Lars-Göran who said no or maybe. My argument to her was that I never see myself anyway, so I don't care what they look like. Lars-Göran however has to look at them every day, so it's better if he gets something he thinks is okay. I'm fairly sure she thought I was nuts.

So why not go with that thought and try for the clown?




I could tell from the look on L-G's face that these were on the "no way!" pile. He is a bit like me in that we like our glasses to be unobtrusive. I guess if you are someone like Jenny Kee and working in the design industry you can get away with frames like that, but I'd feel like a freak and if I had to wear a paper bag over my head before I went out every day it would defeat the purpose of having glasses in the first place.

Well, I like birds, so why not try the owl look.




That was not a good look for me either. So we scanned through the maybe pile again, discarding several pairs before hitting on the pair I finally bought. Sight unseen, so to speak as I didn't look at them at all in the mirror, much to the horror of the optician who for some reason thought that I ought to. I told her that if she and Lars-Göran thought they looked all right it was fine with me as I only cared that the lenses worked. In the end it was quite painless really.

Another reader sent me a link to some shoes that she thought I ought to see as they are being flogged off in the States by the Nordstrom chain of shops.




No, in case you were all wondering, we aren't running a bunny-shoe-empire! And while these did produce a laugh from me, I think they are quite cute in contrast to the mammoth crocs hideousness.

It continues cold, misty and dark as we make our way slowly towards the winter solstice. A bright point on the horizon is the start of the medieval Christmas markets at the castle tomorrow and at Motala on the weekend and the lighting of the decorative street lights as well. You need something warm and cheering in this weather just to keep going. And yesterday I bought something else to brighten up those cold evenings - Lucia Choklad Starkvinsglögg.




It is a mulled wine (glögg) with a mild chocolate, caramel, plum, all-spice and orange hint to the wine. It sounds so tempting that I think I'll get out my copper pot and serve some right away!

Is 3.30pm too early to hit the booze do you think?

Today when I woke up, I looked out the window and saw the world shrouded in a white, translucent veil. It was rather surreal sitting in the semi darkness at the kitchen table watching the mist swirl around and see shadowy figures scurrying along the street and pools of vague yellowish light from the street lamps. I immediately started humming a very familiar tune and in an instant I was transported back to my gran's warm, cosy kitchen at Erindale. Through the mist, I could see gran bustling about at the stove and trying to work around her old heat-seeking kelpie/cross, Spot who was draped across the floor. I could hear her kangaroo, Bluebell scratching at the door to be let inside. And I could also hear her magpie, Maggie barking at the door in a perfect imitation of Spot, hoping we'd be fooled into letting her inside as well so she could tease Spot. And I could see my childhood self sitting by the radio spellbound as Puff the Magic Dragon played. "And frolic in the autumn mist"




I’m not sure how old you have to be to have the song Puff the Magic Dragon seared into your soul, but Peter, Paul and Mary released it in 1963, when I was six years old. It’s always been a part of my consciousness and even though it’s not a song I’ve heard very often over the years, it always brings me to tears.

My very frugal gran actually splashed out and bought a copy of the single and she had to play that recording for me over and over again until it wore out. I could never get enough of it. One very memorable day, she invited me over for afternoon tea and put on the kitchen radio to listen to 5DN's "Listeners' Request" show. She told me to listen carefully to the announcer between each song, which I did. Imagine my surprise when I heard him say "And this song is dedicated to Marie from Kensington Gardens, with love from Gran, Spot, Bluebell and Maggie." I think this was one occasion when I didn't actually sing along with the song as I was so overwhelmed that the man on the radio was doing this for ME! I just couldn't believe how lucky I was to have my name read out over the radio like that.




There are a few memories I have where I remember being very small and singing along to Puff. Most of the people who are a part of those memories are gone. My gran, my Uncle Len and good old Spot, Bluebell and Maggie have all passed away (most of them a very long time ago), so I suppose that adds to my feelings of nostalgia when I hear the song.

Peter Yarrow, the author of the original poem that inspired the song said this:

"Puff has appeared to me both childlike and wise, a king but also a willing follower of just about any bright spirit that inspired him. Puff gives his whole heart and soul to one special friend, Jackie Paper. And though it is terribly painful when Jackie grows up and has to leave, Puff has given Jackie the strength and courage he needs to believe in himself when he goes back to the real world. "

Maybe we are mourning for ourselves and our own loss of innocence when we hear this song. I've tried to think of another song that has the same emotional impact that Puff the Magic Dragon has on me, but I can’t come up with one. There is also The Seekers' hit Morningtown Ride, but I was older when that was released and it just isn't quite in the same league as Puff.

Yesterday, I spent the day at the boat, attempting to cover this bit of discolouration on the freeboard.




It's an old repair made by a previous owner. The fibreglass work is both seamlessly and beautifully done, however he has not done a good job of matching the colour and this stain has always annoyed me. It's only a cosmetic thing, but I thought we could improve it. We've talked about rectifying it, we've consulted colour charts at marinas, but never really wanted to shell out the $160 price for a tiny tin of two component paint that may turn out to be the wrong colour.

After a tip from a car painter, we took the hatch cover to a local paint specialist right here in Vadstena and he promised to match the paint for us. For a very modest fee, he mixed up various samples, applied then to clear tape over the hatch cover and a week later rang us to say that while it wasn't easy, he'd managed to get a perfect match and we went in and discussed the paint, bought the rollers and brushes he recommended and determined to try it out. After all, it couldn't look worse than it does now.

So step one was sanding the area with very fine wet and dry sandpaper.




Yes, that's me up on the scaffold doing the work because Lars-Göran's eczema has flared up again and he can't do this kind of work. If he could, I'd be home on my couch on a cold, Sunday afternoon I can tell you. After I sanded the fibreglass, I washed to well with water, wiped it dry and then applied the heat gun to the area to make sure it was completely dry. Oh, the extra things you have to do in this climate! After I was satisfied, I carefully rolled on the paint and brushed it as per the painter's instructions.




It looks lighter than the rest of the hull, but I think it will darken as it dries. We should know today or tomorrow what it looks like, so fingers crossed that it's a good match. We'll leave it to harden over winter then lightly sand and recoat in the spring. If successful, we can paint the aft of the boat and repair the nasty scratch on the port side caused by a nail ob one of the Göta Canal's badly maintained waiting piers. For which they typically accept no responsibility!

Someone up there must be happy, though, because on the way home, coming into Vadstena, there was a beautiful sunset, providing a kaleidoscope of colours behind the spires of the castle and the red tower. It made the trip almost worthwhile.





And in other exciting news, I saw on the tv news over the weekend that a near-intact shipwreck, apparently dating from the 17th century, has been found in the Baltic Sea. The discovery was made during the filming of an under-water documentary series.




They think that the wreck could be from the same era as the famous Vasa warship, which sank on its maiden voyage in August 1628.

SVT said the Baltic's low oxygen content and low temperature had helped preserve the wreck. The origins of the ship were unclear but its features resembled the work of Dutch ship-builders from the period.

"Experts who have studied video of the ship conclude that it is probably the best-preserved ship ever seen from this period," they said. There is a report in English at BBC.

Honestly, who needs enemies, when you can have friends who are able to leave the Swedish chill and instead go and sun themselves in Australia for six weeks. And then rub salt into the wound by sending you postcards about having a wonderful time as well as emails with pictures of themselves having a sunset barbeque on the deck of a beachside mansion in the swanky Perth suburb of Cottesloe.




Exactly! Where's that Christmas list and my whiteout fluid?

Nah, just kidding. But it was quite a contrast to the frost and ice we are having here. Björn and Marianne have a US based Australian client who has homes in Gothenburg, Conneticut and in his hometown of Perth. He flies them to both the US and Australia once a year and they live in his homes and do maintenance work on the cars, boats and houses - painting, gardening, spring cleaning etc to get it ready for when he will be staying there himself. It must be so hard luxuriating in the beautiful sunshine, soaking up the summer sensations of the velvet delicacy of rose petals, the feel of hot paving underfoot, the aroma of sunwarmed strawberries in the air, the sweetness of the first homegrown tomato and the tang of fresh homemade lemonade. Not to mention swanning around Perth in a Jaguar convertible. Jealous? Me?




Björn does his best to try and convince us that he actually does some real work, but he looks quite a happy little Vegemite atop of his ladder. If he was here, he'd still be up a ladder as well, sanding and painting boats. The difference is that it's gorgeous and warm in Australia and the paint at least dries in the summer breeze. And he can wear shorts and a tshirt.




For the peasants staying in Sweden, though, yesterday was a sunny but bitterly cold day. Not having a mansion and a fleet of jaguar convertibles lying around, I made do with our trusty little car to pop into Motala and pick up some new plants to replace those I left with Beth. The living room looked so bare without them, so I braved the Saturday crush to select some replacements of a more modest size. I seem to have a green thumb and plants thrive in my care, so I guess in a couple of years I'll be looking for a new home for these ones, too. Lambi waited intently in the car, hoping no doubt that my bag contained something edible.




We returned home via the small town of Borensberg. There had been a small smattering of snow overnight. The contrast with the traditional falun red of the Göta Hotel, the sapphire blue skies and the perfect white snow glistening in the rising sun was beautiful, so we stopped here for coffee and admired both the stillness and the view. The water in front of the hotel is the Göta canal and it was interesting to see it from shore as well as in the off season. It is a real miracle that snow and sun co-exist so happily here.




Back in Vadstena, we walked along the sea wall and saw that several section of the water reeds are frozen solid. The sun was glistening off them and they shone like diamonds in the afternoon light.




Quite a contrast to sunny Australia. And when one of my other friends in Adelaide started sending me pictures of the flowering jacarandas, it was all I could do to stop myself ringing QANTAS and booking a flight back. Actually, it was more the size of my bank balance that stopped me. I think I may not even have enough in it for the bus fare to town.

Oh well, back to sanding and painting the boat in my winter thermals and gloves, I guess. Just as well I can still dream.

Last week I had a conversation with an Australian woman who has been living in Sweden for the last four years and the subject of Christmas came up. She was feeling torn as she tried to weigh up the prickly and pricey problem of who to send a card to this year.

In her first year in Sweden, she had sent cards to all of the usual family and friends on her Christmas list. Yes, it was expensive as they were all sent at international rates, but she wanted people to know that while she was now living far away, they were still very much in her thoughts. She was a little surprised that so few reciprocated, but she rationalised it to herself and put aside the prickle of hurt she felt. She repeated the process in the following years, including a chatty letter and photographs and asking about how they all were, but again, there were few replies. Last year there were hardly any cards from home, despite her sending out close to 100 of them! A few sent her an ecard, but most sent nothing and she is feeling a mixture of sadness and anger. "Do they think that I have fallen off the face of the earth" she wailed.




I told her that I have experienced exactly the same thing over the years, with cards received becoming less and less. A couple of years ago, feeling in a similar mood, I sat down and asked myself whether it was worth the trouble and expense for so little return and decided that I had to ask myself just why I sent cards. Was it for them or something that I wanted to do for myself? I decided that it was a mixture, so I pared down my list drastically and kept it to sending out cards to those people who I really liked. I'll continue to do this every year whether they reply or not, because it makes me feel good and I want them to know how we are doing. This is the traditional time of giving and if they don't want to share or return that is up to them.

I was reminded of this today when I popped into the post office and saw that this year's Christmas stamps are out. And they are lovely!

The much loved Astrid Lindgren characters of Pippi, Madicken and Lotta are the motifs for the stamps. It is rather appropriate as on November 14th of this year we celebrated the centenary of the birth of Astrid Lindgren, the world renowned Swedish author. The designs on the stamps are taken from the wonderful drawings of Ilon Wikland, who illustrated all of Astrid's "children" so beautifully! So I'll be writing my list and checking it twice over the next couple of weeks.

We had a walk through town today and stopped for a fika at one of the old cafés in town, Gamla Konditoriet, literally "The Old Teashop".



In contrast to the chilly, grey weather outside, it was warm, cosy and very inviting inside. In the front of the shop is a very busy bakery full of a wide variety of breads, rolls, buns, pastries, cakes and ready made filled rolls and sandwiches. Behind this are two large, airy rooms warmed by a huge old fashioned ceramic heater. There is also an outer courtyard, but there was nobody out there today for some funny reason. It was simply, but elegantly decorated and furnished and each table had a tealight candle burning as well as a small vase of flowers. It exuded charm and peace.




We chose a window table to take advantage of the small amount of light struggling through the cloud cover and also to watch the passing traffic. One orders and pays at the front counter, where you collect your chosen bun, cake, pastry or sandwich. You serve yourself the tea and coffee from a servery in one of the back rooms. I had a big steaming mug of vanilla tea (sorry, Kay!) while Lars-Göran had his usual large flat white. Above the servery was this carving which I really loved.




It says "The bells from the Sister's town ring clearly over the wide, swaying waters of Vättern". The "sisters" referred to are not some latter day feminist cult but in fact the order of nuns founded by St. Bridgid of Sweden, who also built the church you see in the carving. The nuns (Bridgettines) still live in Vadstena today and the feast day of St. Bridgid (Heliga Birgitta) is a huge celebration here. Oh and look, the invisible red tower is also pictured.




As you can see, I couldn't resist a highly fattening nice danish pastry to go with my tea. There goes the plan for those skinny jeans - again! The best part of the whole experience was that I didn't have to share any with Lambi! She was home in the warm, cosy flat waiting for our return. It's the first time we've left her there, so I hope she is okay for an hour or so. We are planning on going out each day for a short time without her to get her used to the idea and so that we can fika in peace.

I'm loving November so far, even though it is usually my least favourite month. There have still been beautiful autumnal mornings with a chill in the air and a weak sun casting its beams through the mists which linger over the fields where often I see a couple of young deer grazing. There is a sense of the year winding down, but not one of it being dead.

If you see the following news headline - "Sweden invaded by a plague of Mammoth Crocs", you can remember that we aren't being attacked by one of those super-sized toothy reptiles which Steve Irwin used to wrestle to the ground. We all know in which country that scenario is most likely.




No, no. As frightening as that is, in Sweden I'm sorry to say that it's very much worse than you think and I don't believe that even St Steve could save us from these abominations - crikey, he probably even has a pair himself! That ghastly khaki pair, I reckon. May I present the Swedish version of Mammoth Crocs (be warned: this is truly the stuff of nightmares):



You'd think we'd be safe from this in the winter, wouldn't you? Is there no end to the scourge of these shoes? I don’t use these words very often, but I truly loathe and despise these rubber catastrophes. It’s not that I am a crazy fashion freak or anything, but honestly, I have searched and searched for a redeeming feature and I have yet to find a single one. I dread the thought of what I might do if I actually see someone wearing them. They look like a cross between ugg boots and a rabbit hutch and I imagine the only people who would be attracted to them are the types who slope around wearing velour track suits, with curlers in their hair and a fag end hanging from the corner of their mouth. *shudder*

As well as the fear of mammoth croc attacks, there are other reasons to stay indoors. The time really has come to say farewell to the light, to the stunning autumn colours and to the warmth! The temperature is steadily dropping below zero and now there is no denying it - winter is as good as here. The days are short, the sun is gone and there aren't that many birds around either.




We had a woodpecker in the birch tree outside of the bathroom window the other day, but it was camera shy and stubbornly remained on the other side of the tree. However, we were able to capture a shot of this gorgeous little blue tit (blåmes). They are usually hard to photograph as they are constantly on the move, but this little guy had found some titbit to nibble on, so he stayed still long enough to capture on film.

Today's walk along the harbour and parks was peaceful as the town winds down from the hectic tourist season and prepares for the imminent Christmas season. In the trees, we did see a flock of siskins (grönsiska). They were busy doing their level best to strip the tree of all it's remaining seeds. Again, they are always active and constantly moving, but lovely to watch.




In another tree, we saw an acrobatic common redpoll (gråsiska). Like the tits and siskins, these are lively little birds, extremely social and constantly moving, They are able to hang upside down to pry the birch seeds from hanging catkins. It really is quite funny to watch them.




We have had very frosty mornings here but only a few feathery snowflakes and snow flurries. So imagine our surprise when opening the national paper to learn that in our old hometown, there was a huge blizzard and people were trapped in their cars, buses, trains in the evening peak hour for up to eight hours. Kids were getting home from school at 1.30am! If you read Swedish there is a report here. It is very reminiscent of the chaos we had there at the same time last year. It's always the same when we get that first big snowfall and again, there are calls for trucks from other countries who drive here in winter to be fitted with snow chains. It seemed that they completely blocked highway 73 from Stockholm to Nynäshamn and the snow ploughs could not clear the road. Still doesn't explain why the train wasn't working, does it? Some things just never change! I am SO GLAD I don't have that commute anymore.

Instead, I am contemplating making this for dinner - a delicious bean and chickpea stew full of fluffy dumpling pillows.




It's perfect comfort food for a cold, dark day. We had watched a beautiful Chinese DVD last night - The Road Home - and they were eating dumplings! Lars-Göran had not realised what they were called in English, so what better demonstration could I offer but to make this for him to enjoy.

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 tsp cumin
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp chilli powder
1 tin borlotti (or red kidney or pinto) beans
1 tin chick peas
4 cups vegetable stock
few drops Tabasco
2 tins chopped tomatoes
fresh chopped coriander or chives for garnishing

Dumplings:
1 cup plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 cup margarine, cut into small pieces
1 tbsp chopped fresh herbs or 1 tsp dried
1/4 cup milk

In a large sauce pan, saute onion in oil over medium heat for about 5 minutes or until soft. Add garlic and spices and sauté for one minute. Add beans, chick peas, vegetable stock, Tabasco and tomatoes. Bring to the boil, then reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the dumplings:

Combine margarine and flour in a mixing bowl. Rub the margarine through the flour until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.

Add the herbs and milk and mix until just combined. Form into a large ball, then divide it into 8 equal parts. Roll each part into a dumpling-shaped ball.

Add the dumplings to the tomato-bean mixture. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the dumplings comes out clean.

Serve with coriander or chopped chives for garnish.

Yum! It's quick, easy, satisfying, the leftovers are even better the next day and made from things one usually has already in the kitchen cupboard. And you don't have to go out and risk a nasty croc attack!

Four years ago today, on a cold, grey November morning, I made my first tentative blog post. My God, who is that man with the short hair in that post?



In the beginning I was very hesitant to start blogging. I didn't think there was any way I could come up with much to write about. I guess that fear was unfounded. Lars-Göran encouraged me as I think he hoped I'd share my loud mouthed opinions with the rest of the world rather than with him. He was only half right as I still share them with him as well as with you.

I can hardly believe that I'm still blogging away after such a long time. I have a friend who is thinking about starting up a blog. Our conversation about blogging opened up some questions about how I feel about blogs in general and why I write here. It seems that the original reasons still exist, I have friends and family all over the world and it has been a good way to keep in touch with them. Our emails now are not so much in order to fill in the details but more as conversations about life in general - conversations we would have had if they were connected to my life locally and I saw them every other day (waves to Pauline - I really miss our weekly cappuchino therapy). Of course, I still don't have as much information about their life but I tend to be the one writing the long, drawn out, babbling emails with ten thousand questions anyway. Are you surprised? (I can feel Lars-Göran grinning already).

As I think about why I write this thing here and who reads it, I have stumbled across some pretty interesting points of view around the net.

There are the regular articles that talk about the evolution of blogging such as Rebecca Blood's history and perspective and the impressive (Weblogs and) The Mass Amateurisation of (Nearly) Everything. As well, there are the numerous critiques of blogging in posts like Quantum Tea's excellent Cardinal Sins of Blogging and Why I $%*&ing Hate Weblogs. I agree with some points of both of these critiques, specifically Quantum Tea's #2 and #4.

So, I've been writing this for four years now and although I'm still here, do I want to be a "blogger"? I admit that I love writing and I love to read blogs. I love seeing the world through other people's eyes. I appreciate that they write these things, even if their design and literary talent threatens to deprofessionalise the media.

What I don't like about blogging these days is the validation therapy that some seem to thrive on. Is this all some sort of self-absorbed babble? I don't think so, or I certainly don't think this is what it is about for me. I don't scrutinise my statistics to see from where and with what link people are reading my blog. To tell you the truth, I used to get a little freaked out when people I didn't know were reading it and frankly, it surprised the hell out of me - why are you here? what could be interesting about what I write?

From my own point of view, it is nice to look back and see the progression toward acclimatising to Sweden. And for our sailing trips, the archives are what ultimately keeps me writing and are very precious.

This blog has become a part of my life and it is hard to separate it from everything else. I've also met some pretty amazing people and have grown closer to friends I think I would have lost otherwise. That said, this really isn't that personal. It has been a little strange letting other people in my life know about this page. Right now, blogging is it's own little sub-culture and I know it must seem strange to many of you that I write online about my family and myself - but I do, I enjoy it and have met some wonderful people through it all.

I'd like to say a big thankyou for all of the emails from people who have read something here and sent me a line. The most important thing to remember about this blog is that it is only a story about an ordinary person doing really ordinary things. If you do not know me or are not interested in the things I do in life, you will quickly become bored. I most certainly do not write this for mass entertainment - as I'm sure you have noticed.




The main joy for me has been the people I’ve connected with, who are constant sources of inspiration and encouragement — all of them — and who I didn’t know existed this time four years ago.

And now I think I'll talk Lars-Göran into a special afternoon tea at one of the nice cafés in town.

I don't normally post blog memes or quizzes, but Kay from As It Happens nominated my blog in this meme at Poéfrika as a blog with an unusual name. Do you really think so? ;)

I thought it was an interesting idea, as I do sometimes wonder how people came to name their blogs. So, have you ever wondered why some blogs are called what they're called? I hope so, because you have just been tagged. Please participate if you can.

Here are the steps:

(1) Explain the name of your blog. Why this name and what does it mean?

(2) Find two blogs/bloggers with groovy names and and tag them.

In my case, I've explained how my blog got this name in a previous post.

Two blog names that always make me smile are:

Farting through my Fingertips
Purcell's Chicken Voluntary

I try and keep that sentiment in mind as we approach the darkest time of the year here in Sweden. We traded in an extra hour of sleep the other Saturday night for earlier sunsets for the next few months. In the afternoons especially I feel it - I look at the clock expecting it to read 9:00pm because a quick glance out of the window reveals pitch blackness. Instead, the clock reports something crazy like 4:45pm. And I must shelve my plans to slip on my pjs, slide inside my warm, cosy bed and read a book, realising instead that I ought to be thinking about the evening meal.

There are ways to combat the tiring effects of darkness and keep your outlook positive. You really have to make an effort to find things to help you through the dim, murky depths of the autumn and winter seasons. Next month, with Christmas lights sparkling, it will be a whole other world - a fairytale. But November is very grim and I look for signs everywhere to cheer me up. Which is why I absolutely love everything about this picture, which brightened my dark November day.




I swear that is a smile in the sky. And while you can feel depressed that it is already dusk at 4pm, the glorious amber colours and that gorgeous smile in the sky are the perfect antidote for the winter blues. There are other things you can also do to find light in the darkness.

1. Light therapy - It's well known that many people have a physical reaction to light deprivation. This can be helped by light therapy, which involves sitting or lying near a bright light for 30-60 minutes per day. My dear man has found this to be a sure cure for feeling like a winter zombie and I've even loaned out my lamp to desperate Aussies! The results can be expected within a week - it really does work.


2. Internal journey - In mythology, night, darkness and winter often symbolise death. This death is not necessarily literal, but metaphorical. The reference is to dying to the external. These concepts are often tied to the internal journey as opposed to looking without. We are in general a very outward looking culture. We draw our social cues, entertainment, and much of our self-understanding from the outside. This has not always been the case. Be it prayer, meditation, or quiet sitting; the willingness to shut out all the distractions and noise for some period