Det vackraste jag vet

Right. Back in from my afternoon vagaries. What a beautiful place. With lovely boys and lovely architecture. And biting cold! It's weird, it looks sort of different from the last time I was here, in October last year. Well, winter is not about to happen for a start. Strange thing 1 - when in the UK, I religiously refused to listen to anything non-Swedish. And now I'm here, I am sort of refusing to listen to anything Swedish. How fucque'd is that? So I had lots of fun bobbing through the streets to the sound of Jem's "They" (which is fabulous almost beyond belief) and Sandie Shaw's Girl Don't Come.

I was v efficient and got all my chore-y things done. Everyone speaks English, and so I do too.

I went to Ahlen's, this superfabulous home stuff store (Sooz it's where I got the oil decanter thing and the clock on a stick) and went to the basement, where I proceeded to let out the most distasteful bottom burps. I blame Anissa's Thai soup, lovely though it was. I thus criss-crossed the shop in an attempt to leave my bottom misdemeanors behind.

So predictably I got a smorgasbord (which means 'sandwich table'!) of Svensk choons, including the French LP by Christer Bjorkman (my future husband) on which he duets with SHIRLEY CLAMP not once but twice! Eek! They didn't have Linda Bengtzing's LP yet so I am bereft of it.

Blah blah blah. I'm going to have some tea and eat some v nice truffles I bought in the tourist trap confectionary store. There was a really hot boy in the tube home. He looked a bit like Morten Harket from Aha. Mind you, everyone looks a bit like that here! Hurrah!

Hej da! (sorry P, you Swedish grammatisk fascist!)