Catching the Strawberry Thief

Sometimes, when no one is looking and things are in the right level, life is just great!

We spent Midsummer this year with my sister, her boyfriend and the lovely little Miss Lova (above) just like last year. It’s in the middle of nowhere, or it feels as if it is in the middle of nowhere which it is not of course. A lot of nice houses, a lot of trees and mosquitos and at Midsummer an open medow with a temporary wooden dance floor and a DJ. This is where all the people, young as old, end up when they’ve run out of herring, strawberries and schnapps. It doesn’t get more Swedish than this.

Last year I got to see my boyfriend dance to the lowest form of music, a very popular genre with the older generation, especially around Midsummer. Since it is not really his scene it went fairly and considering the fact the dance floor is in fact moving up and down from everyone “dancing” around on top of it, it doesn’t really matter. You can stand still and look like you’re shaking it all like that! Though this year Marika, a friend of my sister’s, tried to teach him how to dance “kasedans”, which is the custom in these settings. He then wanted to show his new moves when the next appropriate song came, in this case In a Small Fisherman’s Harbour (I en liten fiskehamn), a smooth transendance from the previous song Lordis Hardrock Hallelulja. I doubt that we got the moves right judging from the professionals around us. Maybe next year we’ll show them.