Johnny, tu n'es pas un ange

Right. Back am I. I am now sitting in our sparkling (ish) kitchen. I have discovered Anissa is a bit like a Glaswegian woman - i.e. heart of gold, but will tell you that you smell. Or will make obscene jokes about the size of your hands. Hahaha! The title of today's post refers to this song that is on an LP I bought by Christer Bjorkman, Sweden's Mr. Schlager, and my future husband.

The LP, Souvenirs d'amour, is in dodgy French (jaha!) but is produced by the same guy that produces Shirley Clamp (faints), and is totally danceable and epic. 'Johnny tu n'es pas un ange' was originally by Edith Piaf (I know, I downloaded it!), and the version Christer sings is just super. Like Min Karlek but in French, if you will. With a dodgy Swede regularly interjecting 'JOHNNY - TU N'ES PAS UN ANGE!!!!!' in the background. Yay!

I think I'm just going to pop it on again as I type...

Oh of course, this being Sweden, the song contains a KEY CHANGE! We love those!

Yesterday I plucked up the courage and went along to ABF-huset, next to Olof Palmes Gata, where the Stockholms Gaykor was rehearsing at 1830. Since I have heard from the world and his rent-boy acquaintance that being late in Sweden is akin to calling the host's wife a hingoot, I was Ride On Time (tm) in a Black Box stylee. It was cack-inducing to start with, what with having to explain who I was in my best English (still not so great at the old svenska) and get blank looks a la 'why the fucque are you in Sweden?'.

Still. It was ace in the end. I got put in with the Tenor Is. They are not like the Tenor Is in the Pinkies, since they have to sing like, an octave higher, it would seem! It's so hecqueticque! But nice. We sang Swedish things, Finnish things, a Village People medley, and an Abba medley that, sorry, was nowhere near as fabulous as Abba Pink! Hurrah! Then in old choir style, we got the underground to a gay bar!

Tres strangely, it turns out the gay bar in question is one I visited with her Highness Queen Pauline of Orkney two years ago, and (get this!) it's right next to Stockholm's Scottish pub!!!!! Like, Johnny, tu n'es pas un ange ecossais! So we piled in to the gaybar, called 'Sidetrack', and then I amazed the throng (...) with my word-perfect lip-synching of many a Swedish language favourite, including Magnus Carlsson, Jessica Andersson, and other rocking Swedish thangs.

I was a bit 'flavour of the night' (though no-one tasted me) and was chatting to all, and her close friend Sundry. Swedish people are nice, and I get the impression they are for the most part intelligent, which is what I'm looking for.

No sign of the mythical Lars. But there was a very nice Nils.

Anyway, came home (just two stops!), went to bed, got up today, gave A a massage, went to bed again. Did some translating. And now A's gone to work (she's a nurse) and I did some housework (eeeeek). And now I'm going to tackle Chapter 2 of Colloquial Swedish!

Then tonight, more disco dancing in a place called 'Connections' where I have had my nipple tweaked in the past. And no, it was not pleasant.

Thank you Carol for your inspirational message yesterday btw.

Kissage xxxxx