The Daily Commute

In my previous life, my commute was on the underground from Zone 4 to Zone 4 on the other side of London.  If I left before 6:50am, I would mostly get a seat, though towards the end, I did have to get there by 6:40, and the trip was straight through, for one hour.  My home station and destination station were above ground, so I could wait in the open air and caught some pretty nice sunrises and sunsets.  The inbetween bits were stressful, crowded, hot and smelly though.  Now I've started the summer cafe, I have a commute again.  This, as you can imagine is somewhat different.  For a start, I have to drive.  I say 'have to' I could actually cycle.  It would take about an hour, but I've done that from Perivale to Charing Cross Hospital (in Hammersmith) before now and that was OK. However, I've borrowed a neighbour's son's car, which is fantastically battered and I love it, even the mould demon smell.

Here are photos of a journey home from work.  So instead of starting in Leytonstone, I start in Habo and instead of ending up in Perivale, I end up in Bet.  (Interestingly, neither of them 'officially' exist as their own entities).  The journey takes about 20min.

Leaving Habo

Passing the processing of the second silage crop

Coming up to Habo church

rounding the corner of the church

to the top of the hill

imaging living with that view!

Heading south to the main road

On the 'other side'!

Southfork! Makes me laugh every time, sorry...

Driving through fields of rye... the barley is a little further on.

Through various farmyards

a favourite shed

and the road goes ever on...

Turning off the tarmac into the home stretch

Alternative transport in case you get hit by a moose.

Into the forest

Almost there!

Heading into Bet

Home sweet home

After a fortnight feeding the masses - not

Well! it's been a fortnight now and you can guess it's not busy by the fact that I'm sitting and typing this.  It's a lovely sunny weekend after a few weeks of rain and showers, so everyone wants to be out, not sitting around in a cafe drinking coffee.  So being an enterprising entreupeneueueueueur (help, how do you stop spelling it??) I'm going to do snack bags to be ordered when you get a bike from the local bike hire shop.

I have to say that I'm learning lots and lots about what people want and when.  Especially what to bake.  Maybe it's better when it's a regular cafe, but for a summer cafe, people want a massive treat and that means goo, not gingerbread and muffins.  Cake that is mainly cream, whisked things and that doesn't stand a chance of standing up straight.  Moderation is most definitely not in!  All the things I carefully baked and froze, I think we are destined to be eating up to Christmas.  Fortunately, there is someone upstairs who bakes to take photos of it, she is on a cheesecake push AND doesn't want any payment, as she would normally have to throw them away.  Result - lots of goo!

The only thing now is how to get people through the doors.  At the beginning I think I blew it with some by having too weak coffee (different now I've taken in my coffee measuring spoon from home) and, being as neurotic as a very neurotic person, I now think that everyone in Habo won't come because of the awful coffee.  You also can't trust the Swedes to give accurate feedback as they are concerned about upsetting you too much.

Still, it's great experience and I'm probably going to open my own place next year.  If only, cos it's a bit late to opt out now!  Best reason ever!

How the Elk got his tattoo

Hi chaps, thought I'd see if I could do a short story in the quiet moments between customers.  The comments reply thing seems not to like me, so apologies if I don't appear to reply to your helpful feedback.  I am sitting here stabbing at the keyboard in frustration!
I think I also need an illustrator!

How the elk got his tattoo

A long time ago, three years ago, deep in the forests of central Sweden, lived a family of elks. There was Mama Elk, Papa Elk, Peter Elk and little Stina Elk.

Peter and Stina were very fond of eating the berries that grew on bushes all over the forest floor. They started in June with wild strawberries and when they were finished, the blueberries were ready. They ate the berries and stuck their bright blue tongues out at each other.  Mama Elk sighed and told them to stop doing that before their father go home, so they went out into a clearing and stuck their blueberry tongues out at the crossbills instead.

After the blueberries, the lingon berries were ripe.  They were bright red and so sour the berries made Peters’ and Stinas’ eyes cross!  That made them giggle.

One day at the end of October, Peter and Stina found a mound of strange, oval, hard, brown berries, a fire stone ring and an old grinder box on a beach.  They had never seen brown berries before, so Peter licked them. A tingle ran up his tongue and down his back and out of his tail.  He was so surprised; he sat down right on the old fire place. Some of the coals were still hot! Ooof, up he jumped and his long spindly legs went up in all directions and he landed on the coals again! Stina laughed and laughed so much she fell over too.

When they got home, Mama Elk cleaned Peter’s burns and put dock leaves on them to help. Papa Elk said that the brown beans were called coffee and said that Peter’s burns looked just like the beans.  Peter looked at his burns.  “Oh, what a pretty pattern” exclaimed Stina, “they make you look different”.  Peter felt quite proud and started to parade around the forest showing all his friends, who got quite jealous.  Their mums and dads were not so pleased though!  And that was how the elk got his tattoo.

The Tattooed Elk Totters into the world

Today is the start of a new life for me.  Yes, that's another new life.  I must admit that I'm not sure how many I can take, but am working on the cat theory at the moment.

Today is the day when the Tattooed Elk, my little company, takes its first step into the real world.  I'm going to convert the old mission hall here, in the hamlet, to a cafe and art gallery to open next year, but in the meanwhile, I've had the opportunity to run a summer cafe in the old spinnery in Habo, starting today and finishing 11th August.

Consequently I've been baking and have run out of freezer space!  I'm hoping I'll have time to get something baked fresh every day as it opens at 11am and I get up at 6am.  After 2 years of not working it's a bit daunting to say the least, which is why I'm writing this at 3:45 in the morning instead of getting a good night's sleep.  Still, we'll see how it goes and if  all else fails, I can always go and buy loads of doughnuts and flog them for sixpence.

The tax office here has a somewhat different attitude to the one in the UK, where they are just basically interested in taking your money.  Here you are categorised, percentaged and they want to see things like contracts and know about your experience before they give you permission to start a business.

If you're wondering about my experience, I helped out at a cafe when I was a student.....it was a long time ago. Not sure that getting your bottom pinched as a silver service waitress counts, but hey, it was a hospital cafe!  Strange how life turns out.

Midsummer Madness

Well, it's now Midsummer. Gosh, Karin, you say, I think you'll find there are a couple of days to go yet! Technically, you'd be right. The Public Holiday is on Saturday (for you UK lot; in Sweden, the Bank Holidays are on the day they fall on, not Mondays. If the holiday is on a Sunday and you work in a normal office, tough, you've missed it) and today is Thursday.  However, all the best parties are on Midsummer Eve so everyone, absolutely everyone - even the big supermarkets, take MSE off, or at the very least the afternoon, if you happen to be a profit driven retail giant. In fact, unless you are a capitalist, money driven b%*, you take the afternoon off the day before in order to prepare the herring, cream cakes, strawberries and schnapps that are eaten in totally ginormous amounts, whilst dancing round the midsummer pole singing about green frogs.  We all know what folk songs are really about, but that one, in particular, frankly, has me worried.  The actual Midsummer Day is celebrated by recovering, generally in a swimming costume, by a lake with more strawberries.
Consequently, today, Thursday had me driving around like a mad woman to get everything in before everything shuts in the afternoon.  There can be no more baking, because there is no more freezer space, so I'll just have to crochet, sew, organise lists, my head, the office and the paperwork in prep for the big day on Tuesday.

What? what? What about Tuesday??  More on that tomorrow!!!

Haymeadows at Midsummer

Growing things

Spring was so late this year that everything started growing like there was no tomorrow as soon as the soil thawed and the night temperatures got above +2C. In the UK, we are used to say 'OK, that needs doing/pulling up/cutting down/layering etc, I'll do it at the weekend'. Here, honey, if you do that, say on Tues, you won't see whatever it is for the other plants or because it's grown 10m and you have no idea how to use a chainsaw.  So the lesson I've learnt from this year is 'do it NOW'.  Probably not a bad lesson all round actually, and would cut down the number of piles of stuff dotted around, especially in the office - just saying.

I've cut out 4 diamond shaped veg beds in the bottom lawn.  Well, I say 'I'.. bless Graham's little cotton socks...  Each took 4 bags of soil, the compost bin not being far enough advanced yet, so I've only got 3 earthed up (ran out of money!). I've planted peas and beans in one, broccoli and cabbage in the other and spinach and parsnips in the third.  And I fuss over them like a hen over her chicks.  After one leaf of a broccoli seedling was nibbled, there were no longer any snails in the garden and the ground is now not brown, but blue (slug pellets for you non-gardening types).  I'm just waiting for the hares to discover the plants!

Graham built me a greencottage (too small for a green house) and I've got 5 tomato plants in that, there are 4 chilli plants on the window sill and I've cleared around the wild strawberries, so not doing too bad for a first year, so far.   This afternoon, I'll have to go out and get some birch branches for the peas.  There was a frost last night, so excuse me, whilst I take the blankets off the beds....

Mad dandelions

At this time of the year the dandelions come into bloom.  Every field and roadside is a mass of small, burning golden suns, replacing the silver starlight of the wood anenomes. So with all these wild flowers, I thought I'd give making a dandelion hanging crown wreath thing a go.  I haven't make one for years and years and years, so it was all a bit new again.

I went out with my basket and cut dandelion heads, thus having a lovely time and giving the neighbours conversational topic of interest as to what the mad english woman was up to now.  Then I spent a happy couple of hours in the sun with a cup of tea binding an old embroidery frame and threading dandelions.  It's now hanging up in the library and the idea is that it will turn into dandelion clocks.  We will see....