That he was wearing those khaki shorts and that shirt that morning was not a coincidence. He had carefully chosen that outfit because it was Sunday, and Sunday was a market day in Bridport Harbour.
Market day was a good day for a fortune teller, especially in July, and especially in Bridport Harbour, a small community made famous by the TV series “Broadchurch”. Tourists were everywhere on the beach, on the cliffs, and at the market in the customs house looking for the places were fictional detectives Miller and Hardy have chased criminals. The show’s tagline – “A town wrapped in secrets” – worked wonders for a fortune teller as himself.
It was a beautiful night. The sky was still blue but the moon was out, and the streets were getting darker. There were groups of people walking up and down Portobello Road and we could here people laughing and joking, standing outside the pubs as we walked home.
We walked slowly, it was a nice summer stroll, and Son and Daughter were goofing around – Son running into every single phonebooth along the way and Daughter telling funny stories – while Wife and I walked side by side, enjoying every moment.
At home, I don’t really like to be a regular customer anywhere because I like my privacy, but when I’m traveling, I suddenly find myself humming the theme song of Cheers and feel that “Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came.”
Caffe Connect, the coffeeshop I’m writing this at, has a loyalty program. Collect nine stamps and you get the tenth coffee for free. We’ll only be here for three more days and I only have one stamp on it, so I’m probably not going to get my free cappuccino, but I wanted to get the stamp because I figured the guy behind the register would also be happy to get a new regular.
Back when Wife and I had just met, and before we lived a walking distance from each other but in our own apartments, and before we had started to regularly spend the nights together in either one of them, it sometimes happened that Wife would leave my place in the evening and sleep at her sister’s place two subway stops down the red line.
One such time, when Wife and I saw each other the next morning at the office, and as we recapped our evenings, she, for a reason I can’t remember anymore, said casually that “she only has hard bread”. Meaning the Swedish knäckebröd, or crispbread, a flat and crisp rye bread.
“Oh,” I said, while making a mental note to always have fresh bread at home when Wife would visit.
“But I like crispbread,” she added, and I made a note of that, too.
I was definitely going to stock up on the knäckebröd as well. (But I was also going to make sure that as long as Wife was hanging out with me, she’d always – always – have soft bread to eat).
Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die, and in a similar fashion, I would love to look good but I hate shopping. Not with passion because I don’t care enough, but still, enough to own several T-shirts from the previous century.
And that’s why I am a lightning-fast shopper when I do hit the shops. I have an image in my head going in, and when I see the thing that matches that image, I’ll buy it.
Admittedly, it doesn’t mean that I have style, or that I’ll look good (or at least as good as in the image in my head) but most of the times I’ll be pleased with what I see in the mirror.
“Tricks are a curious thing. I remember when I was a little kid in Joensuu, Finland, I used to play basketball with my father at a nearby schoolyard, and while I’m a man of the streets, I’m the laaaaaaast person…“
Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation… Well, it all began with reader interaction. In other words, I asked Son if he had read my previous blog entry, and whether he thought it was any good.
“Yeah, it was good. Liked it,” he said.
“But it didn’t have enough of me in it,” he added.
Strength is a curious thing. There’s all kinds of it, but you never really know how strong you are until you need it. That’s not what the man said, but that’s what he was telling me as he was packing his javelin into the 1998 Nissan that was parked next to our Volvo.
The area around Sergels Torg, a plaza in downtown Stockholm, is undergoing a facelift and is surrounded by a construction site. On a regular day, the re-directed traffic and temporary sidewalks are a nuisance, but Monday was no regular day.
Monday was the day when Tre Kronor, the nation’s beloved hockey team, returned home from the 2017 IIHF Ice Hockey World Championship, as world champions and suddenly, thousands of people found room on and around the square that is about the size of a hockey rink.
“I’ve been here (as a fan) myself when I was younger, celebrated the championship teams, and it’s wild to be standing here now. This is the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me,” said John Klingberg.
I heard the tape had originally had some KISS songs on it, believe it or not. I don’t know if that’s true, so I probably shouldn’t be spreading rumors but I also figured that since nobody remembers or knows who the original owner of the tape was, I won’t be hurting anyone. No foul, no harm, right?
Here are my championship stories from Denmark, Finland, Norway, and Sweden.
Tappara’s historic title
HV71 Sweden’s number 1