When someone writes you a poem your heart swells with pride (until you actually read what it says)

Drinks with work yesterday to celebrate (or rather mourn) Anna leaving. First day sitting outside in the sun, we didn’t abandon outside until 10 and then it was just because some of the weaker people (danish) had to go in because they were ‘freezing’ (like a normal swedish june night)

On the way home I was slightly drunk and bored out of my head so my lovely boyfriend wrote me a poem to entertain me. He is a poet in making. It’s all star shine, roses and being compared to sun light on a june meadow.

See for yourself:

I’m so very witty
I wrote this little ditty
Inspired by how pretty you are
It only took a minute or two
To write this little missive to you
You’re bored on the train
Your phone can entertain in vain
But luckily
and hopefully not yuck-ily
I can pick rouse you with my brain
Spot the deliberate error
Which makes this the merrier
Round robin for you
My dearest Munthe
I am merely a punter
When held up to your radiant beauty
(especially your fabulous booty)
You clap your hands loudly
You grasp your phone proudly
But sitting alone on the train
you may appear soft in the brain
You’ve changed the angle of your pictures
You’ve abandoned the strictures
Of your self imposed tyranny
of forehead swelling infamy
I’m hoping drunk = nympho – my
I’ve learnt to expect
snore, hiccups and flecks
of dribble
All this is nothing of course
compared to the puke that bursts forth
The next morn, pregnant with remorse
driving the porcelain bus
with the minimum of fuss
You get snippets of flavour
from the drinks you did savour
only the night before.
Are you coming back for pudding
min vacker snygging
Its much harder to rhyme in Swedish
maybe because im English
Hur många dricka
min fina flicka?
Fyra?
Why not some beer’a
There are no beers in the mice-el-liam!

He certainly paints a lovely picture of me being hangover… and it sure was one fun train ride back home.

London in spring

I am desperately trying to get my london in spring pictures through but since the blog app and me (&%¤# blog app) are not friends any longer I will have to try and do it in words.

It’s blooming, everywhere. Pink cherry blossoms, tall, majestic magnolias and gold rains lines the streets and the smell is intoxicating. And the birds, they sing. As in Disney sings. You expect them to come flying down and sit on your shoulders and tell you about the world. (Guess I’m more of the evil witch than the princess so they keep their distance).

London in spring is the kind of spring that puts a foolish grin on your face and you cant stop. Everything is bathed in a feeling of possibilities. The shittiest day turn light when you turn into a street and there is pink, blooming trees everywhere.

Even I, with my black clothes and tendency towards gloominess, can fight the smile that the spring in London brings

Nothing like home

Oh, how I missed my skinny black jeans, my black eye make up and my sunglasses. It’s great being away skiing but i’m just such a big city girl. Whenever I’m away, even if it’s laying on a beach getting tanned without a problem in the world, I will inevitably start missing my city. I’m at my best looking pale in some bar.

Yesterday Oliver and me celebrated being back by eating at the japanese and walking home through a blooming London.

I know i look like I want to kill someone but making up for being all smiling and happy in turquoise for a week. Not my style.

Cant wait to meet Ziggy

Kix and Robin got their little puppy dachshund Ziggy when I was away. Even my heart melt to this little baby. Kix keep snending me photos and I keep going ‘aaaaaaaaw’

Filippa is here on friday and I’m off work. The plan is to meet Kix and Ziggy in the park and have a Hyde Park picnic. Do i need to mention i cant wait for Friday!

I mean, look at this sweetie…

First time on skiis since i was 11…

Back from an amazing week in St Anton. Powder, sun, jäger shots, after ski, long dinners with friends, complete melt downs in mogul fields, snowboarding, skiing, sore muscles, dancing and great memories.

I stood on a pair of skiis for the first time since I was 11. That was interesting. As Dani’s brother put it ‘you can tell it’s been 20 years..’. That didnt stop my friends for putting me on the top of black slopes and mogul fields. I survived, that is what counts.

Today sporting a great goggle tan. I kept making fun of Oliver for his and on the last day God hit me with a vengeance and now I look all patchy. Totally worth it though

Happy Oliver about to ride the powder

Lunch in the sun
Why would you otherwise have a boyfriend?
Heisse witwe. New take on the hot shot. Warm peach schnapps, cream and cinnamon. Delicious!
After ski!
My first day on skis. I nearly threw up after a horrible mogul field. They made sure I got beer and sausage instead. That saved me.
You can almost tell how much Eric just want that beer to come
‘Scahtzi schenkt mir ein foto’. Happy Mooserwirt boys.