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ullehaddock

Writer of sorts with a soft spot for Photo. Writes about life and what comes into my mind.

Midsummers Eve

For us Swedes midsummer’s eve is really the true National Day where we celebrate the Swedish summer and the light. For most, the reasons for celebration are not very clear but the tradition is very strong. Some traditions are very nice and for the whole family and especially the children. Thus, allowing grownups to behave like children for a while. The Swedes are very good at reusing things and so also in celebrating holidays. There is dancing around a pole, draped I birch leaves and the Swedish colors, singing silly song while doing silly dances in a big ring. We use the same songs during Christmas, six months away, but then around a fir-tree but still with the Swedish colors. We eat the same thing for dinner, pickled herring, eggs, salmon in several varieties even if there are a couple of things unique to the midsummer table. Fresh potatoes with a special kind of pickled herring, Matjessill and for dessert strawberries with whipped cream and to this we drink snaps. To drink the snaps, we need to sing more silly songs standing up with raised glasses. As the evening goes and more songs have been sung the standing part gets more and more difficult.

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The Swedish midsummer dinner must take place outside even if the winds draws down cold from the north and the rain is poring down. This results in a lot of running with the whole dinner table in and out between the rain showers. You never run out of things to talk about as the weather usually does it best to remind us that we live very close to the North Pole. Many midsummers eve have had the same temperature and weather as Christmas Eve, five degrees centigrade and the rain coming horizontal with a strong north west wind. But what we always remember is the midsummer when the sun was shining, and the weather was warm all the way into the night. Since it is summer you need to dress accordingly and for the men it means a short sleeve shirt and shorts and for the girls it is a thin dress in white with flower pattern. One also makes a Midsummer Wreath from leaves and flowers you pick during the day; these are worn by children and younger girls.

A good thing with these traditions is that they bring family and friends together and allow people to let go from life musts. Even the strictest accountant can fool around for a while jumping around in what you can call a dance singing a silly song about how funny the little frogs are. I think the little frogs are laughing their legs of when looking at the accountant! When many meet up like this, new relations are formed, new children are made in the bushes and new friendships will be made. I could not call my self Swedish if I do not bring up the down sides also. The excessive use of alcohol also creates a lot of problems with fighting and broken marriages. Many children fear these holiday as they know that their parents will get drunk and fight. The heavy traffic from everybody leaving the cities to get to the countryside causes many accidents and damages to the nature we worship.

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Lately there has been a lot of demonstrations and talk about Black Lives Matter and looking at our traditions from a diversity and inclusion standpoint there are some things to consider. Are our traditions, being nationalistic, religious, or even tribal a way to include or exclude? Is this a basic human need for belonging to something larger than yourself? If we need to exclude to be able to be included, then this is really man kinds curse! Can we feel safe in an ever-expanding group? To include someone in your life will inevitable mean that you yourself change. To allow this to happen you need to feel confident in who you are and your sense of belonging.

I think traditions like the Midsummer celebration creates a good sense of belonging and if we are aware it can be a way of inclusion. Everybody is welcome to join in the ring, if it gets too big, we create another, and another, and another. The dance styles will change and even the songs. After all there is a lot Pizza eaten during midsummer today.

Have a wonderful Midsummer wherever you are and make sure to include someone standing outside the ring. Who knows one day the ring goes around the entire world.   

Mamma är Blå och Vit

Mamma är Blå och Vit

Denna gång ett smakprov från boken som jag håller på att skriva. Den har mognat länge i min hjärnas vindlingar men har nu kommit en bra bit på väg även om det är långt kvar. Boken handlar om en pojkes uppväxt i förorten på 60- och 70-talet. Dela, gilla, kommentera och prenumerera om ni vill sporra mig att fortsätta.

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Han vaknade med känslan av att något var fel, en sådan där gnagande känsla av obestämt obehag. En känsla pojken var allt för van vid. Han tittade upp på sängbotten till överslafen på våningssängen i rummet som han delade med sin tre år äldre bror. Men hans bror var inte där. Hans bror var förvisad, efter att blivit gripen av polis för stöld, till deras alkoholiserade pappa och bodde nu i pappans enrummare i ett rivningshus. Dass på gården och en hembränningsapparat som puttrade i hörnet.

Kunde det varit hunden som gjort något ljud? Då kom pojken ihåg hur dagen avlöpt innan han gick och lade sig. Ett stort bråk mellan pojkens mamma och styvpappa i en lägenhet som inte var deras. Alkohol, gap och skrik innan till slut slag utdelades. Mamma blev slagen igen av styvpappan när hon ertappade honom hos hans älskarinna. Hennes glasögon flög av och föll mellan trapporna tre våningar innan de träffade betonggolvet och splittrades. Pojken fick hjälpa sin berusade mamma att ta sig hem med en Taxi, hunden och styvpappan som pojken älskade båda, blev kvar där i den andra lägenheten ute i förorten.

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De kom hem till lägenheten i en närliggande förort där pojken hjälpte sin förtvivlade och fulla mamma i säng innan han lade sig själv och somnade eller bara dåsade bort en stund. Nu var han klarvaken igen och det var ett ljud som inte borde vara där, även om pojken var van vid ljud som inte borde vara där. Så hade det varit under hela hans uppväxt. Han gick upp ur sängen och ut i hallen. Det var en typisk miljonprogramslägenhet med en ganska långsmal hall. Rum på båda sidor och köket i slutet av korridoren. Där satt hon på pinnstolen vid köksbordet av trä med Perstorpsplatta, eller hon halvlåg mera halvt nerhasad. Hennes underarmar skakade konstigt mot bordet och när pojken kom närmare såg han hur huden var fläckad, blå och kritvit. Ur munnen kom fradga och ögonen hade rullat bakåt i hennes bakåtlutade huvud som också dunkade i väggen bakom. ”Mamma, mamma vakna” försökte han ropa men hon skakade bara mer och gled längre ner på stolen. På bordet låg duken i en enda röra, ett par ölburkar låg ner och en vinflaska stod på bordet. På bänken vid sidan om henne fanns flera öppnade och tomma burkar med olika piller i samma oordning som på bordet.

När pojken inte fick kontakt med sin mamma förstod han någonstans att han måste ringa ambulans. Han tog telefonen med darrande händer och rullade fram larmnumret 90000 på sifferskivan. Efter vad han upplevde som en evighet, eftersom mamman nu började skaka allt intensivare, svarade någon i andra änden. Med grötig och darrande röst försökte pojken så sakligt som möjligt få fram sitt budskap till larmoperatören. ”Mamma är blå och vit och svarar inte, hon har tagit tabletter!” De lovade att skicka en ambulans direkt. Pojken kunde se för sin inre syn hur porten på Brandstationen öppnades och ambulansen körde ut med blåljus och sirener. Pojken var ofta och lekte i närheten av brandstationen eftersom det var spännande och fanns en fin skog intill att leka i. Ibland fick de komma in och titta på brandbilarna och vara med när brandmännen gjorde iordning efter en utryckning. Pojken gick och öppnade för ambulanskillarna, på den här tiden var det nästan bara killar, som kom in och började ta hand om mamman. Mamman hade slutat skaka och nu glidit ner hela vägen på golvet. Hon var mer blå än vit när pojken förtvivlat försökte få kontakt. Ambulanskillarna gjorde återupplivningsförsök och hjärtlungräddning innan de fick in henne i ambulansen. De körde iväg med blåljus och sirener och efter en stund hade de kört runt huset så han kunde se ambulansen köra förbi på baksidan husen med hög fart.

Nu var pojken helt ensam i trerumslägenheten. Han hörde hur luftpumpen i akvariet brummade och att någon granne spolade i toaletten. Han gick runt och tittade i bokhyllan där det stod en skivspelare av märket Philips där hans mamma brukade spela Demis Roussos eller Lasse Berghagen. Vid sidan om stod det stora 1000 liters akvariet som var hans styvpappas stolthet. På bordet framför soffan såg han resterna av festen som varit kvällen innan. Cigarettfimpar, halvt urdruckna glas, ölburkar och spritflaskor. Pojken åt av geléhallonen, eller jungfrubrösten som hans pappa kallade dem, och Ahlgrens bilar som stod i en skål på ett sidobord.  

Det var Annandag Jul 1976 och pojken var 10 år.

Kommentera gärna och kom gärna med tips på hur jag kan utveckla språket. Dela, Gilla och Prenumerera så det kommer mera.

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Man Cold

I have a cold and all men out there knows what I am talking about! We try to be brave and show a good spirit but it is impossible to get out of bed. The wife just giggles at me and mumbles something about giving birth. But let me explain how it feels.

The brain feels three sizes too big and pushes hard to make room in the skull. There is however a jolly gang of workers banging away with sledgehammers, pickaxes and shovels while singing out loudly trying to reduce the size of my brain. They all have Hot Work permits since the temperature is now very high in the entire body. They move around in the head with a big old Steam Train on a poor track. You know like in the old days going cathunk, cathunk. The train blows the whistle on every lap around the head stopping with screaming breaks at the station between the eyes. As the foreman realizes that the brain size is not reducing fast enough he decides to use dynamite, no correction, he has been watching Myth Busters so when in doubt he will use C4! They all cheers after the explosion and since it was a good blast so lets do it again, and again!

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The throat feels like a dessert but my nose is working hard to build up a flood to wet it. Unfortunately this flood streams out into my face instead and blocking any attempts to get air though the nostrils. This leaves a man gasping for air through the mouth instead with the result of sand dunes start to form in the pharynx. The water missing from my throat has now started to come out of the biggest organ in the body, the skin, rivers and rivers of sweat. This is hard to understand through the cooking and banging in the head as you lie there shivering from cold in your soaked bed. When the wife comes back from work you realize that the sand in your mouth now have turned into glue as you try to speak. She gives you that no pity look again before she heads out to the TV. She looks at a program where they strangle cats? Oh, it was American Idol.

When you try to get out of the bed you realize that the guys working in your muscles have gone to your brain to support the marry gang to reduce the brain. Resulting in you crawling on all four like a baby over the bedroom floor to get to the bathroom. Every step, if you can call crawling that, feels like somebody is shooting arrows into your body. On the bathroom floor you find out that a wet body that meets tiles is very slippery. The merry men in your head cheers and whistles as your head hits the floor thinking it was a C4 blast. If you manage to find your way back to the bed without getting lost in the closet you find yourself in front of Mount Everest. Trying to climb back into bed makes all the guys in your muscles go to their Union rep and complain. As they go on strike you fall asleep on the floor dreaming of demonstrations, screaming crows and rioting. As it is escalating with sirens sounding louder and louder the left and right side of your brain decides to start a civil war firing artillery at each other.

After a very long time, a few days, you start to recover and the merry men in your head finally managed to reduce your brain size to fit your thick skull. The muscle guys however demands vacation due to the overtime helping out the brain guys so your body still feels bruised. You stumble out to the kitchen just to find the To Do List from your wife!

If you still have any strength left or if you do not have a cold and like this please Share, Like and Subscribe!

Public Transport

Public Transport

Public transport, just the expression makes peoples prejudices come alive. Perfect to write about as I will dig in to some of the stereotypes you find in public transport. Public transport are not for all. What, you shout out loudly, waking up your family and neighbors! Yes it is true and if you bare with me I will explain why.

I really like to travel with public transport. It is convenient in most cases, good for the environment and I’m very interested in people. There are no better places to study people than in Train Stations, Airports, Buss Terminals or in the actual transport. I stuck my neck out when I wrote that Public Transport is not for everyone so let me cover that first.

I live in the countryside where there is not very many people living during the winter and the distances are long. I have 20 km one way to my work and 10 km to the store, in the other direction of coarse. By car it takes 25 minutes to work on the small narrow roads. There is a bus stop one kilometre from my house, walking distance, but the first bus arrives one hour after my job starts in the morning. The bus goes to the village seven km away and there I have to wait for an hour for the bus that passes the factory where I work. Now I’m 2,5 hours late! Going home is even trickier. I need to stay longer to compensate for the 2,5 hours this morning. Well turns out I need to 1 hour 45 minutes before the work day ends because this is the last bus home. Leaving me in the same village going out waiting for 45 minutes. I’ve tried during the winter when it is zero degrees Celsius and the rain is coming horizontal due to a strong wind from the west. These same weather conditions paired with the very narrow roads also refrains me from riding a bike. I need to take the car and I will cover the conflicting feelings I have about that in a future blog, so stay tuned. So Public Transport is not for everybody when you live in the countryside. I guess people living in the north of Sweden or the Australian outback know what I talking about even it they probably think I’m a sissy to compare with the distances they experience.

When I visit my kids who lives in a larger city or if I’m on holiday or a business trip I park the car and move around the city with trams, buses or underground trains. There are shelters you can stand in when the weather is bad and in most cases you wait maximum 15 minutes. The best part is that life goes on all around you all the time providing inspiration to “wanna be writers” like me. Let us start with the type that thinks everybody wants to here about the her life that she loudly speaks about on her cell phone, I’m sorry but in my experience it is usually a she. Some of these people uses earphones so you only get her side of the story. What the boyfriend, father or mother says you will have to guess and that can be quite funny if you put your mind to it. Worst case I experienced was a upper middle age woman speaking on the phone using the speaker so everybody on the train could hear everything. The daughter she spoke to was calling from psychiatric clinic she was admitted to suffering from a serious depression. Several fellow travelers tried to give the lady meaningful looks so she should understand how awkward it was for everybody in the compartment. In a full train it is not easy to move. After half an hour she finally hung up and the now extremely depressed fellow travelers came to life again trying to figure out if this was a bit humorous or just plain tragedy.

We also encounter the man, almost always a man, that had just a little too much to drink and wants to make friends with everybody and especially good looking women. Moving too close so you are afraid that if you would be stopped by the police driving home from the station or airport, you would go down for drunk driving. Full of stories that at first are bad attempts to be funny or interesting but after a while ends up in how miserable his life is. Can be a bitch for a wife or a psychopath for a boss constantly telling him what a failure he is. Should he meet a fellow “a little too much to drink” mate it can be quite entertaining to listen to. They can talk about beer and whiskey in a loving poetic manner that would make Shakespere go blue with envy. They would never be alone if they talked to their wife’s like that. The people a bit further away from this guy are usually more amused then the ones getting stuck close to him and that is not only from the smell of distillery and urine.

Love is a beautiful thing don’t you think? But when the loving couple almost go to all in or I think the Americans uses the expression, goes to second base in front of you I fail to see the beauty of it. You really don’t want to see his hand go up under her skirt while they loudly exchanges saliva. You can almost hear the silent applause from fellow passengers when the pornography scene suddenly changes into a lovers quarrel. Now the guy gets embarrassed and looks around him. There is also this typical look of confusion as he’s trying to figure out what he did wrong this time. Did he use her sisters name, or her mother or even worse her best friends name!? He tries to calm her down by whispering in her ear but she pushes him away shouting “You just don’t get it and you’re only out for one thing”. This girl must be a genius, she figured him out! Just as the scene gets quite amusing and you find it hard not the smile too much or even laugh out loud (LOL) it all changes back to porno as he finds her correct buttons to push. Oh my! When is my stop?!

Some travelers has made rudeness into an art form. They enter the tram or bus in the front loudly complaining that the transport was late and the driver, and all other passengers, need to know that this VIP:s day is now ruined because of that. Some people can even yell at the driver for the bad weather! In my mind it is part of good manners to say hi or just make a small nod to the driver as you enter, they are there to provide you with the service of getting you safely from point A to point B. There are actually some that looks down on those working with service calling it simple jobs but it takes skilled people to do that kind of job. Above all they need patience and ingenuity to deal whit all upcoming situations during a shift. They deserve our respect! They are not all perfect like the bus driver that amuses himself by trying to hit every hole or bump in the road, cutting the corners a bit too fast and slamming the breaks at every red light. He is an expert on hitting every red light! Leaving the bus stop it is the pedal to metal to try to get the old couple just boarded to fall over. If that is not successful he finds an excuse to step hard on the breaks and like a tap dancer move the foot to the right and hit the gas.

The leg spreader is usually a man but can also be a woman. They do it for the same reasons. Display of power! The man tries to show he is a Alpha male by trying to get as much space for himself as possible and at the same time trying to focus all attention to his reproductive area. In most cases there is probably a sock or a banana inside the trousers. He immediately spreads his legs as he sits down while making sounds to make sure everybody notice him. Women are more discrete as they usually don’t have the same need for space as men. Women use the leg spreading to get men feel unease as it is considered a harassment for a man to look at a woman’s reproductive area and I agree that it is when the man does that to downgrade her. All too common! But sitting on a train in those chair facing each other it will be a struggle to always looking out of the window, specially sitting in aisle, on the floor or up in the roof. One reason to start blogging, reading or writing! The leg spreading Alpha female seeks your attention and should you meet her eyes she draws your attention downwards with a Mona Lisa smile.

Public transport is good for writers, the environment and city traffic congestion use it if you have the possibility. If you like this text like and subscribe and check out my other texts on this site!