It's a saturday evening and today has been a weird day- I mean not in totally crazy way, but as my 'summer' trip back to England is shortly approaching; mine and J's conversations are on thoughts and what not about exactly that.
Ironically, its been grey, pissing it down and bares full resemblance to an oh so spectacular English Summers day. Just as we drove down our road from a quick visit in town/study sesh at BMC (my second home....thats the bio medicine centre for those who dont know), standing by the bus stop was some morbidly obese, twenty something, smoking, ugly beast. The significance you ask?
Well about 30 seconds before some chav bastard in his rude boy 20 year old civic decides to spank it round this roundabout, then swerves like some drunk nobhead, barely missing a mini centre divider. Again, so what?
Well as my charm and love for England has been rubbing off on Johanna she kinda looks at me and laughs saying something along the lines of 'this is great, it's like a warm up for going to England'.
Chuckling away, I think (taking in the weather, the psycho hose beast and chav boy racer) to myself how truthful her words are. The phrase 'taking one for the team' was never more appropriate.
I mean I'm not so sure why it almost feels like a burden coming 'home'. However rude I sound, my feelings are compounded by seeing almost now nostalgic images from 'home'. With recent surveys from the UK clarifying peoples thoughts that living was better 20 years ago....at least I was alive then...in the 'good old days'.
May be I'm jealous that I'm not Swedish, that I can't speak two languages, that I could afford a house over here, that you don't get abused by pockets of teens, that you're allowed to have a Swedish flag hung high in the sky, that you show some respect to others around you. Or may be it's the ongoings in an apparent soap opera that is 'family'....or may be ignorance on my part.
Either way, despite living in a fantastic place, with the thought of beach, water, etc..I'm almost planning what I'll be doing when I come back to Swedenland......
Ironically, its been grey, pissing it down and bares full resemblance to an oh so spectacular English Summers day. Just as we drove down our road from a quick visit in town/study sesh at BMC (my second home....thats the bio medicine centre for those who dont know), standing by the bus stop was some morbidly obese, twenty something, smoking, ugly beast. The significance you ask?
Well about 30 seconds before some chav bastard in his rude boy 20 year old civic decides to spank it round this roundabout, then swerves like some drunk nobhead, barely missing a mini centre divider. Again, so what?
Well as my charm and love for England has been rubbing off on Johanna she kinda looks at me and laughs saying something along the lines of 'this is great, it's like a warm up for going to England'.
Chuckling away, I think (taking in the weather, the psycho hose beast and chav boy racer) to myself how truthful her words are. The phrase 'taking one for the team' was never more appropriate.
I mean I'm not so sure why it almost feels like a burden coming 'home'. However rude I sound, my feelings are compounded by seeing almost now nostalgic images from 'home'. With recent surveys from the UK clarifying peoples thoughts that living was better 20 years ago....at least I was alive then...in the 'good old days'.
May be I'm jealous that I'm not Swedish, that I can't speak two languages, that I could afford a house over here, that you don't get abused by pockets of teens, that you're allowed to have a Swedish flag hung high in the sky, that you show some respect to others around you. Or may be it's the ongoings in an apparent soap opera that is 'family'....or may be ignorance on my part.
Either way, despite living in a fantastic place, with the thought of beach, water, etc..I'm almost planning what I'll be doing when I come back to Swedenland......
