Swedish epilogue
I never mentioned that we slept on wild rucola a couple of nights. (This in the same campsite infected by the clog-hoppers/Käseköpfe I mentioned already.) In the morning we collected blueberries, mountains of them, for breakfast.
I never mentioned the drops turning silver once they hit the surface of the lake. Tiny silent silver explosions. Little sparkles glittering across the lake. No Irish door had a design like that. Anything so beautiful in Ireland would of course be destroyed by jealous neighbours in a matter of minutes. "Who does your man think he is with his fancy door?!"
The ICA. A dreaded organisation in Ireland known as the Irish Countrywoman's Association. In Sweden it's a supermarket. It still brought terrifying memories flooding back of biddies nagging, moaning and complaining of petty little concerns of no concern to anyone to themselves. I never mentioned that. Nor should I.
Power of numbers and collective opinion has helped them convince the world that their designs are the best, their fashions up there with the most cosmopolitan. It's precisely because it isn't fancy, that Swedish designs are so lauded. Simplicity is key, a happy coincidence for unimaginative Swedish designers.
I guess they learned their lesson on August 10th, 1628. The Vasa warship was supposed to awe the world when it was launched from Stockholm harbour on that date. It was one of the most fancy boats ever made, with wonderful designs, carvings and ornate images. Big-wigs and dignitaries from all over Europe were invited to share in its glory as it left the port.
Never again was anything fancy made in Sweden.
Still, you've got to hand it to the Swedes for making a success of failure. The Vasa was hauled back out of the sea in 1961 and a museum built around it. It's now Stockholm's most popular. Maybe it was all part of the 350 year plan.
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