Shady business

As winter comes crawling towards us and we are heading for the darker side of the year the business of shades light up my mind. I could perhaps ponder the bigger issues in life and the world, like riots, economic madness and the uneven distribution of means. But as my gaze wonders upwards towards that special gazing place I feel gives me a certain air of deep contemplation, I can’t help but fix my stare on a naked light bulb swinging in all its nakedness from the ceiling. Oh dear, saving the world just has to wait a day or two while I address the more urgent matters at hand, give that bulb a shade!

An easy way to perk up any kind of space is with a lampshade mit personality.
You can get away with a lot of ‘beyond ordinary’ if there is a shade in the space that steals all the attention. But I’m not talking about the dreary hand-me-downers your might get conned into receiving just because you find it hard to say to your spouse’s aunt that the shade in question shouldn’t have made it into this side of 1960’s. I’m not talking about the kind of shady shades that remind you of a bamboo forest with nicotine stains. I’m talking about the kind of shades where you decide the size, design and fabric. The shade that oozes style and je ne sais quoi. I’m talking about the wagu beef fillet of lampshades.

You might think, ‘Hold your horses O’ shade blaster! Such a shade costs a fortune, it can’t be within the reach of mere mortals!’ Well, yes. That is the most wonderful, under explored little ‘unsecret’ of the shade world. It doesn’t cost an arm or a leg; you don’t have to sell the kids to the white slave trade or shave your head in a fundraiser at the local school. The cost of your lampshade is perfectly affordable. You just have to decide what you want, because there is a smörgåsbord (I know, crazy, but that is the correct spelling!) of options. And as my ‘Scandi’ genes leads the way of style and class, I head to Miljö or funkis for some shady advice on my perfectly perfect lampshades. And I might just solve the world’s problems once my shade shines that special light on me.

The Mother of all Swedish mothers

In these celebratory times of the female ability to reproduce and mother a little critter or two, let’s not hold back in praising these uber-women. Let’s join the gush-party of all mothers and their significance to each and every living homo sapien skipping around this blue-green globe. And let’s, for the hell of it, lift the Swedish mother up above all others for a paragraph or two.

A Swedish mother is like no other. Not only does she work up to, and including, the actual day of giving birth. Not only does she hang around at home until contractions are 10 seconds apart before driving to the hospital, after the popping out, she has a cup of tea, with a bit of toast, before packing her belongings and driving back home within 12 hours of giving birth. With the waving hospital staff quickly disappearing in the rearview mirror. And she’s most likely to cook dinner for the family that very evening. A trooper in plain anglais.

A Swedish mother is also a bit of a unisex mother; she’s capable of most things. Breastfeeding? Sure. Changing a car tire? No problems. Homemade Christmas cards? You bet. Pruning the fruit trees? Goes without saying. You would be hard pressed to find something the Swedish mother isn’t capable of. And this includes pole dancing and yodeling. She is a regular domestic goddess, on top of pulling her weight in the workforce. Further, a Swedish mother can still catch public transport with her child. I know, crazy but true!

Also, a Swedish mother isn’t too precious. Following a fairly no-fuss delivery, she goes on to treat her child with respect and care, but is in general rather matter-of-fact about the whole mothering deal. For example, even though it’s minus 24 degrees Celsius, you will see lots of little babies sleeping rugged up in their prams outside, while the mothers are sitting inside drinking hot chocolate. Why? It’s the attitude that ‘fresh air never hurt anyone’. And guess what, it’s true. A Swedish mother also trust her motherly instinct that a sore throat and a temperature does not need the blessing of a doctor and treated with antibiotics. And yet these children survive. Unheard-of approach in many countries.


So hail to all Swedish mothers and all other mothers out there! Don’t despair though if you haven’t been blessed with a Swedish mother. You can always pick up a surrogate Swedish mother and buy her a present for Mother’s Day; she’ll love you for it. Or buy your non-Swedish mother something Swedish, it might rub off!

And in regards to presents, please spend a lot. We are worth it. If you have a little voice inside you saying, ‘it’s the thought that counts’, don’t listen. Spend big, go that extra mile. Tie yourself in a knot, bend over backwards, shower your mum with presents and flowers because she will LOVE IT.

Light my Fire – the story of a striking match

Some things we take for granted. Like lighting a candle, fire or any other flammable object that needs some flamin’. Ever so often we stumble across a documentary showing us how in the ‘olden days’ humans used flints, glass in sun or any other way worthy of an episode of ‘Man v Wild’. From the comfort of our sofa, lit up by an array of lights, we huff in that special way only comfortable Westerners can, who never huddled around a wet piece of branch trying to cook dinner and keep the wild ones away, and realise ‘’I would freeze to death, develop a taste for raw meat and be eaten by a pack of wolves in no time’. Survival of the fittest.

And then the match came along, and it became survival of the smartest. I’m so pleased the match was invented. What a genius Gustaf Erik Pasch was, may his memory burn forever. Not only a match, but a safety match! The iMatch of matches. It has Sweden written all over it. Flaming, but safe. Herr Pasch certainly had panache.

Often the best things in life seem easy. At least they come across that way. A shoehorn, a doorstop, a rocking chair and a cheese knife are just some of the things that come into my mind.Though the safety match is simple in function, it is the whole science behind it that makes it work. And work. And work. 160 years later, the concept has remained the same. The making of safety matches became one of Sweden’s most successful industries in the 19th Century and into the 20th Century, and probably the most recognised export of Sweden at this time. Not bad for a bit of wood, chemistry and a strike. So next time you’re cuddling up next to your loved on, replace the humming of Door’s ‘Light my fire’ by asking if your darling wouldn’t mind swipe the match against your striking surface.

Re-birch

Let me share with you the joy I recently felt when I rather by complete luck stumbled upon a birch tree in the Sydney wilderness.
There I was, panting away in the sweltering heat, mistaking the inner West for Bali the as the temperature reached indecent heights. I could feel the heat choking me, the asphalt bubbling under my feet; my shoes melting and I started to transform from a cool swede to a withering turnip. I was wringing my top out as the sweat kept weighing me down, inhaled a litre or two of water to refill the reserves while I contemplated the rest of the journey home. All of a sudden, a little breeze came through and I heard a familiar sound, the very distinct rustling of birch leaves that sounds like no other. “No”, I said to my self, “ It can’t be…” I was at this point leaning more towards the explanation that I was hallucinating as my brain obviously was trying to cope with the heat. But then I heard it again. My eyes followed the sound and lo’ and behold, there it was, a wonderful majestic birch tree speaking to me. It gave me such a pang of familiarity and happiness that I mentally started folk-dancing in my regional folkdräkt with my imaginary dancing partner Börje, who’s little funny woollen knee balls kept banging against my strong legs as we swirled around in the polka while the accordion and violin kept the tempo up.

I was abruptly snapped out of my reveries by the children, who asked why I was standing staring at a tree in someone else’s garden. I reluctantly disentangled myself from Börje’s firm hands around my little waist and tried to explain the significance of my birch sighting, already feeling a good 20 degrees cooler. The level of my children’s excitement reflected their lack of knowledge and affiliation with the birch tree, so I had to continue my birch high all by my self. And continue it did. I forgot about the heat, the melting thongs, sticky asphalt et al. Just by seeing this beautiful tree I could will myself to a cooler place, full of refreshing breezes, overpopulated with Nordic dancing-men, and some classic, slightly annoying, folk music played al fresco. So in times like these, what we all need is our own little mental birch tree to keep the heat under control. If you can’t have your own living birch haven, surround yourself with birch memorabilia, such as beautiful furniture from Gamla Lan, homeware with birch details from Funkis, birch fabrics from Chee Soon & Fitzgerald, or opt for the IKEA version where you can get absolutely everything in birch veneer, including the $1 hot dogs.

The Point of the Return

Post-Christmas-sales, post-end-of-year-sales, post beginning of-of-year-sales one can suffer from sales fatigue or plain ol’ confusion of purchases. While returning items, especially at sales times, can be a hard and arduous task. You have to produce 100 points of evidence that you actually purchased the item, this including a thumbprint and your great-grandmother’s maiden name. It also has to be within the time frame of minus 24 hrs and you still have to come up with some strangely suitable excuse why you changed your mind. I break out in a sweat of guilt every time I return something, feeling slightly incompetent that I couldn’t make the right decision to start with, ‘how hard can it be, how can you fail in your judgment of a white T-shirt?’ Maybe it’s just genetic Protestant guilt rearing its ugly head or maybe it’s the queasy feeling of hassling the sales staff, but when returning stuff I always feel as if I’ve borrowed my friend’s favorite item and damaged it, beyond repair.

But for all these slightly anxious ridden returns I have endured through my history of shopping, there is also the antidote that operates under the name of IKEA. Unparalleled in its eagerness for a return, it is the Mecca of Returns, the ultimate meaning of the word Return. I would even go as far as betting my cat’s head that when the English language was in its infancy, men were pondering long and hard if the word for taking things back that you had purchased and for some reason didn’t want any longer, should go under the name IKEA or Return.

Sometimes I have an itch to just buy something at IKEA so I can return it. I know, sick, but true. But I feel I’m making someone happy. And it’s not me (well it is but I’m happy to make someone else happy). Returning your Hejka rocking chair because it clashed with the Kramfors sofa and the Liatorp table is a pure joy. When you show up with your item to return you almost have a feeling that you are giving someone a gift, a very special gift. No questions asked, just hand over the receipt and the box. And if you don’t have the receipt? Don’t stress, there is a special little line with tickets just for you. Now, that’s considerate. No guilt, no explanation, no sweaty palms. I just lift my gaze up to that happy little heart pillow that tells me: ‘It’s OK to change your mind’. It fills me with warm fuzzy feelings, I feel like hugging someone, a pillow, an IKEA staff member or perhaps the person next to me that is queuing up for the bits-missing-give-me-a-new-one-sorry-we’re-temporarily-out-of-stock-desk.

Swedish Christmas feel in the time of tropical heat

I hate to break it to you all white-Christmas pining-Sweden-loving-conflicting-Christmas feelings-of-cold/hot/light/dark-kind-of-people like myself; Christmas in Australia will never be like the Christmases back in the winter dark of Northern Europe, in the tomteland of Svedala. And I mean never, ever. Sorry to shatter any illusions but I think we need to agree on this point before we can move forward and find peace with working out an alternative.

This, however, doesn’t mean that one can’t create a little piece of Swedish Christmas celebration right in the middle of the 35 degrees heat, one just have to be selective and smart about it. And that’s exactly what I’m going to help you to do. I will help you, step by step, to navigate Christmas in the most possibly stylish, genuine and user-friendly way I can think of. Without too much stress or anxiety.

Firstly, Christmas for me is about the senses. For me it needs to smell like Christmas, taste like Christmas, sound like Christmas and look like Christmas, even if only from the micro perspective of your home. This can easily be achieved in a not too complicated manner.

To make it smell like Christmas you need to identify those smells that make the Christmas feeling kick in for you. Essential for me is a REAL Christmas tree. Yes, the price of a semi-real looking tree in Australia is comparable to at least half a regular pine forest in Sweden. But hey, comparing Christmas tree prices with the Great North is not getting you any closer to experiencing the ‘Xmas feeling’. Bite the bullet and buy the tree, see it as your Christmas present to yourself. Inhale. Decorate your tree with lovely things from funkis or IKEA and the picture is complete. Exhale.

Secondly, I have a very weak spot for oranges with cloves in them. And the smell is wonderful, makes me twitch with Yule-feel all over. Decorate your own oranges with cloves and you will reap the benefits throughout Christmas. These decorations also make a very nice present.

Unless you are the Stephanie Alexander of Swedish Christmas cooking, know your limitations and set your goals in a realistic timeframe.

If you don’t have time to bake ginger cookies, pop into IKEA, Coles or Woolworths and pick up some of Anna’s pepparkakor. If you want to make the ginger cookies more versatile, put a bit of blue cheese, such as Roquefort or the like, on top of a ginger cookie and you’ve got yourself a tasty nibble pre-‘julbord’.

‘Julbord’. Important indeed, but let’s not go too crazy. If you can’t recreate the ‘julbord’ of your childhood, don’t feel bad, and remember, you probably didn’t eat most of it anyway. Include the best bits only. My variation is Janssons frestelse, beetroot salad, meatballs, gravlax, ham, 2 styles of herring (mustard and French for example), knäckebröd, cheese and a green salad. Everyone can add any specialities that they feel are a must. Let’s remember, improvisation is good. And no one here will know the difference. And for pudding, I love a tasty Ris a la Malta.

The key to a relaxing Christmas in the Swedish spirit is to try not to stress madly the day of the 24th of December. Most things on my ‘julbord’ can be made in advance. Prep the Jansson frestelse and meatballs and stick in the freezer. Go crazy, have it done in November! Gravlax is so easy and takes care of it self that all you need to do is turn the little parcel about twice a day for 3 days. How hard is that? The herring sits nicely in the jar, keep it that way. The beetroot salad taste better if you prep it the day before. I can’t be bothered with making my own ham, I just buy ham of the bone and schlep a bit of tasty mustard on top. The Ris a la Malta can also be made the day before and kept in the fridge under some cling wrap. That leaves you with tossing a green salad on Christmas Eve. Easy.

Glögg. I’m sorry to say this but this drink doesn’t work for me at all this side of the equator; I let it remain one of those things I only do when Christmas is celebrated in an environment that enjoys no more than 5 hrs of daylight per day. But if it makes you feel Christmas fuzzy, here’s a DIY.

In regards to making it sound like Christmas, the options are endless. In this day and age of high tech super highway kind of way of living, crank up Sveriges Radio and tune into a whole range of different Christmas feeler-gooderers 24/7 up to the 6th of January. You can of course also listen to the local Swedish Christmas variation of radio at SBS where the Swedish Programme will broadcast all kinds of Christmas songs. Or download or order some Swedish Christmas music on Amazon. Or maybe just sing some traditional Swedish Christmas music, the optimal way to get the Yule-groove going.

To get into the Swedish Christmas feel, there are not only things I recommend you to do, but there are also things I strongly recommend that you don’t do and actively stay AWAY from.

Some of these no-goes are:

Wildly blinking lights/Christmas decoration. Christmas shouldn’t be confused with a raunchy red light district. Bad for Christmas feng shui.

Any native Australian animal dressed up in Santa outfit. A definite NO. An absolute killer of Nordic Christmas feel.

And remember, don’t peak too early. Start Christmas preparations on the right side of December to minimise the anticlimactic feel of premature Christmas fatigue.

I hope this little Swedish Christmas guide can come in handy, and remember, you can take Christmas out of Sweden, but not Sweden out of Christmas, rock that reindeer!

The Swede who threw a better spanner in the works

There are so many people to thank for so many reasons, all those people who made life easier for the rest of the world population. All those people who took things one step further for the greater good of all, those people who thought “ this can’t be it? There must be more to this tool than this?!”

Well, no more sleepless nights for all you home-handy individuals who have found yourself on many occasions looking down on your personal adjustable wrench and thought “who came up with this clever tool and is it a Swede?”

Let me quench your thirst for answers. Firstly, is it a Swede? But of course it is a Swede. The inventor of the adjustable wrench, unknowingly, is the forefather of the expression ‘less is more’. While Johan Petter Johansson (1853-1943) was working as a fitter, he found himself standing in a sea of wrenches to match a whole range of screws and nuts. The confusion and frustration was evident for JPJ and being the clever sausage he was he combined the whole lot into one single tool, the adjustable nut wrench, or the universal wrench. This little piece of invention was constructed and patented in 1892. Since then, the regular toolbox contents have been more or less halved and many trades’ people’s backs have been saved, chiropractic clinics gone out of business, all due to our nifty JPJ. So inspirational has the adjustable wrench been that some people even write songs about it. Credit given where credit is due.