tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26536379556579796952024-03-05T09:10:07.678+00:00brittblogBritt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-84101569635500669032015-04-10T12:00:00.003+01:002015-04-10T12:26:11.957+01:00The Story of a StoneHe meant the world to me. Maybe it was the lack of a father figure or maybe just because he was such a kind person, I don't know. It really doesn't matter. I just know I loved my grandfather Gunnar to bits during the first six years of my life.
In the small block of five flats where I grew up with him, my mum and my brother – he was the caretaker who... well, took care of things. That's what Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-48788377673300247832013-12-08T16:49:00.000+00:002013-12-08T19:02:25.017+00:00Why?After many years of living in their main house and pretty much ignoring the old, wooden house in the corner of their garden, my brother and family decided it was time to save a bit of Arvika history. So, they started a huge renovation project. Too many traditional wooden houses have been pulled down in our home town, in the mid west Sweden. Like many other towns, Arvika also went through a phase Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-1893208664202447002013-11-03T23:08:00.000+00:002013-12-08T19:00:13.390+00:00MumI have been planning to write this blog post for many years now. 'The blog post I will write when my mum dies'. I would write about her life, how much I love her and miss her, how Alzheimer's ruined it all, how it is to live far away from your family, in a foreign country. I had many phrases already planned in my head.
And yet, now that it has happened, now that she has died, now that I've criedBritt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-43295266077777002912013-05-04T22:47:00.001+01:002013-05-17T12:51:42.570+01:00To the ThiefI don't consider myself being a 'material girl' but I must admit my daily life has changed a lot, after my handbag was stolen last week.
It's a long and complicated story which I won't bore you with, but in short, a very professional thief discretely removed my handbag from the back of a chair in a London pub, where I had just sat down for an evening with my work mates. The bag was squeezed Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-11461099821271103042013-01-05T22:58:00.003+00:002013-01-11T16:56:47.573+00:00Goodbye Jan – may you shine bright in the sky – forever.I had sad news from Sweden today. Jan, 59 – a very good friend of mine, from as far back as I can remember – had been found dead in his flat. He had not got back to work after the Christmas and New Year holiday and his colleagues became worried. The police broke in and found him dead. He had been there for some time, not sure for how long, as I'm writing this.
Jan was a very special person. Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-33475314450195442332012-12-30T23:48:00.000+00:002012-12-30T23:48:05.575+00:00Nordic walkingI walk differently when I'm in Sweden.
This thought popped up in my head as I took the first steps on a wintery pavement this Christmas, after my arrival at Landvetter airport in Gothenburg. With all that ice, often hidden by new snow – you can't just trot along as you would on a bare (and probably wet) UK pavement. No, it requires a careful and balanced approach. I gradually got back into Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-14282950556817249552012-12-02T00:45:00.002+00:002012-12-30T11:35:36.487+00:00Don't get Alzheimer's – it's hell.
I called mum today. No reply. I tried for a VERY long time, but – still no answer. Now, this is not unusual, as my mum often hangs out in the day room of this dementia home, with the other 'guests' and can't hear the phone. 'Guest', by the way. is a nicer name for 'another person who is also a bit gaga'.
Mum has always said to me: "If I die suddenly of a heart attack, be happy for me." IBritt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-88854734985552110752012-07-26T02:26:00.000+01:002012-07-26T22:11:21.689+01:00A Seafarer's Tale
An Irishman with seven horses, a Yorkshireman with a radioactive cargo and a Swede with an English tractor. What could they possibly have in common?
Answer: They all boarded a ro-ro freight ferry from Immingham to Gothenburg last week – together with about seven other people. Oh, and me.
There are only 12 cabins of which just a few are single ones, so the chance of getting your own Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-86669436611259799792012-07-15T10:31:00.002+01:002012-07-15T10:32:46.377+01:00Less is moreHalf of my life lies inside this house. Books, photos, study notes, carpets, lamps, mugs, travel memories, vases, candle holders... You name it – it's there. Stored in an outhouse at my brother's place, this pile of belongings has come to represent the part of me which is still firmly rooted in Sweden. I have left it there for 'when I come back' – whenever that will happen... These (20 or so) Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-19710362333516133362012-06-16T22:46:00.001+01:002012-06-17T09:53:42.257+01:00Things you learn at ASDASo, we decided to shop at ASDA, for once. Maybe it was the promise of a lot of £1 deals for stuff we would have paid more for, at Tescos or Sainsbury's. Or maybe it was the thought of that excellent advert which still makes me laugh, I don't know.
Anyway, there we were, queuing up at one of the thousands of tills (ok, I'm exaggerating), together with what seemed to be 3/4 of the Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-61366269193903199202012-06-10T14:14:00.000+01:002012-06-10T22:57:45.791+01:00Britt on Britishness
What IS Britishness? Is there such a thing as Englishness? Or Scottishness? If so – what then, is Swedishness? The recent political debate has raised many different opinions and here is mine:
I cannot see the point of putting labels on nations or individuals. We can all agree that tea drinking, stiff upper lips and talking weather are all phenomena we refer to as typically British. Or Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-47887976762965172602012-05-12T23:12:00.001+01:002012-06-09T20:59:09.543+01:00That's why Britts go to ScotlandYou're at a dinner party. After a lovely meal, the host serves coffee and says:
"Would you like something with it? At 95% of all dinners I've been to, it is automatically assumed that the men want whisky and the women liqueur. Well, I don't. I have never had much of a sweet tooth and – I love whisky.
Don't get me wrong, I don't drink much of it and not too often, it must be said (mainly Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-92111674415567564132012-04-16T11:05:00.001+01:002012-04-16T12:08:20.179+01:00A surreal train journey
It was to become the strangest train journey of my life – well, so far, anyway.
On 22 July 2011, I was on my way from England to Arvika, my hometown in midwest Sweden. After the usual stop-over in Stockholm, at my best friend Lena's place, it was now time for the last leg of my journey. I boarded the train at Stockholm Central Station – only 3.5 hours now separated me from seeing my family Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-69925306399945312482012-04-12T08:20:00.001+01:002012-04-12T08:20:23.763+01:00Clematis with a differenceThis year, I spent Easter in the UK. I cannot remember when that happened last – I usually spend it back home in Sweden, with painted eggs, pickled herring, salmon, bunches of birch twigs decorated with multi-coloured feathers and 'Easter eggs' filled with sweets.
However, this year I went home the week before Easter, for Mum's birthday. On the last day, whilst rolling my suitcase to the railway Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-59172423432185595762012-02-07T23:00:00.002+00:002013-11-16T12:35:36.388+00:00MumI spoke to my mum in Sweden today.
For newcomers to this blog and for those who don't know me, you can read an earlier post about mum here. She is 90, will be 91 in March. (Yes, I know that makes me old but to my defence, she had me quite late in her life!) Mum suffers from Alzheimer's and has been living in a home for the last couple of years.
She is very fit and mobile for her Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-13947323792896151962012-01-19T11:04:00.000+00:002012-01-19T12:47:44.284+00:00Yummie Yule Traditions
They were lying there, blatantly open for anyone to see, in the glass counter at our local baker's.
During the first day of my recent Christmas holiday in Arvika, Sweden, I had popped in to get a quick something for our coffee. I hadn't expected this, though. I hadn't expected semlor in December!
"Oh but they are made with saffron" said the lady behind the Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-29972094553605607522012-01-15T22:53:00.001+00:002012-12-30T12:41:42.193+00:00If Lars Norén had done IKEAWhenever I walk around an IKEA shop in the UK, I find it amusing that I understand what the product names really mean, whereas the English speaking IKEA staff probably don't. (Or maybe they have done a course – I don't know.) I have always wondered what it would be like if the names weren't so... perfect. And nice. Therefore, I made my own version:
Swedes will understand this one – I Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-6051463451153780162011-11-17T22:46:00.001+00:002011-11-17T23:27:13.650+00:00Cab Poetry 3To any newcomers to my blog:
What you are about to read is another post in my series "Cab Poetry". As an honorary London black cabbie (true!) and first ever punter of the excellent @tweetalondoncab I collect random, authentical cabbie tweets and arrange them artistically in... well, poems. Enjoy.
"I'm at Padders. I don't know why.
At oxo on me own
Playing EC5 lottery
That Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-59586061885278562552011-10-25T22:58:00.011+01:002011-10-26T09:26:20.832+01:00There's Reality TV and then there's Reality TVI had the privilege to attend an excellent event this week, at the Frontline Club in London – an inspiring meeting place, not just for journalists but for everyone who takes an interest in journalism and current affairs. And I do.There are so many stories to tell out there, so many atrocities which need to be revealed, that normal news broadcasting time just isn't enough. Typically, news Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-50889092577383558622011-10-16T12:19:00.006+01:002013-05-30T22:39:20.167+01:00Lost in Translation
This comparison will only make sense if you know English and Swedish. My (Swedish) daughter told me about a text having been translated into various languages, on a falafel mix package she had bought. One of the translations was Swedish. Well, sort of.
Here you go:
ENGLISH
Ingredients: chick pea, beans, salt, special Meshwar spices
Directions:
-Mix each 1 sacks with 125 ml (half Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-22148037170170492012011-08-14T21:13:00.013+01:002011-08-16T08:25:57.396+01:00Unsocial Media?
Last week, the MP for Corby and Northamptonshire, Louise Mensch, said blackouts of Twitter and Facebook would have helped the police during the recent riots. As rumours spread fast via social media, the police wasted valuable time responding to false alarms. Louise Mensch also said BBMs (BlackBerry Messenger), with which help riots and looting were being coordinated, could have been dealt with Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-44736200793932436022011-08-13T11:59:00.017+01:002011-08-13T20:22:07.783+01:00Should we have predicted a riot?
There is no easy fix and no easy answer as to why the recent riots in England kicked off the way they did.
The riots brought out the worst - and the best - in people. What is it, that makes an individual give up his or her social responsibility and respect for others? Why did people throw away all their moral scruples for a pair of designer trainers, a box of mobile phones or even a pack of Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-88766694052873351132011-06-25T21:30:00.005+01:002011-06-25T22:19:46.315+01:00Dill galore in Wallander landNationalism. I don't like that word. Too many negative connotations throughout history, too much egoism, greed and intolerance. And still, when it comes to Midsummer, I feel very Swedish.I feel proud of our Swedish Midsummer traditions, the way we celebrate the height of the summer, the light, the long summer nights. I mean... can you blame us? After what seems like an eternal, dark, cold winter Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-64440897202476056822011-05-21T22:49:00.004+01:002011-05-21T23:01:01.789+01:00Du pain, du vin, du Pork Pie.I went to our local shop the other day and spotted a Goat's cheese, wrapped in a big label, saying "reduced"! Win win - it ended up in my shopping basket... It enjoyed a few days in the fridge - I don't eat Goat's cheese every day, you know! Anyway, a few days ago I removed the dark blue wrapping and... The cheese had gone all brown!! Damn. Ok, I know it had been reduced but still - it wasn't Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2653637955657979695.post-90321066947383166032011-05-16T22:52:00.043+01:002012-12-30T12:08:51.131+00:00There is more to twitter than breakfast cereals
If you're on Twitter, you know what I mean:
The constant: "Oh yes, Twitter. That's when you talk about what you had for breakfast and chat to celebs all day, isn't it? Not my cup of tea, sorry."
And even if you're not on Twitter, I think I need to tell you a little incredible story. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin:
The background is also part of the serendipity:
My Britt Warghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12644298171629760348noreply@blogger.com1