The November winds blow in blustery changes. Drizzling rain and overcast skies are becoming a familiar scene, so it was with a measure of joy that Saturday dawned cold but bright and sunny. And boy was it cold - I had to wear hat, gloves and my winter jacket for the first time this year. When I took the dog out for her early morning pee-mail run, it was a chilly 1.5C. While that is quite cold enough for me, some poor people in the north of Sweden had -25C last night, which is unbelievably cold for any time of the year, let alone October.

On Friday night, we had another call from Lars-Göran's daughter to ask us to vote for a friend who is competing in a tv show called Idol. I've never seen more than a microsecond of it and in that time I decided that it was obviously designed for the brain dead. From what Annelie told us, it is a so-called reality tv show (the sort of tv genre I despise) where a group of young performers compete over several weeks to get a recording contract and become an instant popstar. I believe this involves cameras following them around all week recording their lives and a few trumped up "dramas" (insert rolling eyes). They then perform whatever they have been rehearsing that week, get feedback from a panel of celebs and then people watching can ring up and vote, with one person being eliminated each week. She rings us with a number for her friend and both Lars-Göran and I have to SMS our vote to that number via our mobile phones! It's rather funny when you think that we have no clue who we are even voting for.

But we put all of that behind us as we went out into the chilly sunshine and walked down to the church, which stands on a high hill commanding views across the park and harbour and is an ideal spot to sit and admire the changing seasons. I have noticed that the colour of this autumn's leaves is different to that of last year. I remember last years as being more in the red and golden spectrum. This year the colours appear to be more yellow and brown, but it is still a glorious sight on a sunny day.




We then turned towards the main street, where the autumn market was about to get underway. This is an annual event, sponsored by the local Lion's club and is always full of an interesting mixture of stalls and produce. Inevitably there are also a lot of tacky, crap stalls but so far they are very much in the minority. Even though it is still early in the morning, a sizeable crowd is already gathering, so we had better get down there and see if we can snaffle a bargain or three. I love this market, finding it incredibly invigorating and fun.




We began at the local library, where they were selling books for only 1kr (about 20c) each. What a bargain price for some quality literature, so I was glad that I had the foresight to bring my shopping trolley with me. That pile of books would have been so heavy to lug around all morning. We then hit the main markets to buy things like my year's supply of cute socks, some jocks for Lars-Göran as well as to mooch around the second-hand bric-a-brac stall. I love browsing through these sorts of stalls, except when they are really packed as I don't have the elbows, nor the padding to fight my way in. I use Lars-Göran as a kind of human battering ram, which he enjoys. In the past we have scored some great books and kitchen goods but today the pickings were slim. We then headed over to my favourite licorice stall to buy several thick straps of this delicious treat. From this angle, looking back you can see the church on it's hill as well as a snapshot of the milling crowd around the stalls.




We saw several friends among the faces in the crowd and we could stop and chat here and there, while keeping an eye out for anything we wanted to buy. I saw a stall selling CDs and despite the fact it was playing some ghastly country and western style song, I dragged my reluctant Swede over. It was just as well that he came along as he found two CDs that he wanted to buy - both "Best of" compilations featuring the 1960s legends Procol Harum and The Byrds. I'm sure the kids will be horrified as they think we have incredibly sad taste in music and when they look at our CD collection, they sigh and complain that we have nothing there later than the 1970s. I point out that I have several Nick Cave albums, so they forgive me somewhat. Lars-Göran protests that he has some Sarah Brightman, Enya and Andrea Bocelli but that just causes the kids to shake their heads and look at him in pity. Perhaps we'll give them a paper bag to wear over their heads to hide their shame. LOL!




I also bought some fabulous smelling garlic salami from this produce stall. See how rugged up I am despite the sunshine? All in all, we declared it a successful market trip and headed home with our goodies. On the way, I tried to convince Lars-Göran that both Joe Cocker and Annie Lennox had done excellent cover versions of Procol Harum's classic hit Whiter Shade of Pale but he looked so skeptical that I longed to rush in the door and google it and prove him wrong. All thoughts of that little triumph flew out of my head when we were greeted by near disaster...

Our cheeky cockateils had decided to explore the kitchen while we were gone. This is a first for them and they must be feeling a heady joy at the freedom to fly around after nearly five months in a cage on the boat and decided to find out what lay beyond the living room. When I walked in I saw Sheila on the kitchen blind shrieking frantically and no sign of Bruce. I nearly fainted, turning very much a whiter shade of pale, as the window was slightly ajar and I feared he had been curious and squeezed himself out, where he would surely die in this chill.

But Lars-Göran heard a faint peeping noise from behind the built-in fridge and we realised that he had become trapped there. We had to carefully haul out the fridge and take him out. He was hot, frightened and dehydrated and we carried him carefully to his cage where he drank a little then sat on a perch quivering. It was such a shock to us as he is normally such a cheeky, confident, fearless little bird and very much the king of this castle.




It just killed me to see him looking so vulnerable and shaken. The worst part was that we were due to go out to stay overnight with friends in a couple of hours and I was so upset that I didn't want to leave. Fortunately, within an hour he was calmed down and began eating again and preening himself, so we closed the cage door to guard against any possible accidents and feeling much happier, we left for Tyresö, where we caught up again with Bosse and Ann.

We met this wonderful couple through a boat club we belong to and it was actually Ann who discovered us through this blog when she was investigating buying Fiona's sister boat, Tintomara II. We met at an autumn meeting two years ago and we all got on so famously there and remain great friends today. I really value good friendship and always look forward to seeing them. Both of them are warm, generous, friendly and open and we feel totally at ease chatting to them about every subject ubder the sun. I feel very blessed to know people like them and we all had a great time, enjoying excellent food, good wine and of course wonderful conversation punctuated with laughter.




They were kind enough to offer us a bed for the night, which was very welcome, especially as we did not finish talking until the early hours of the morning. On Sunday we awoke to a carpet of white - the first frost for the season. Didn't that come quickly? I think I had better shop for my winter boots soon. After a leisurely breakfast, we went down to their boat club where the boys went off to Tintomara II and discussed boring things like fibreglass and battery terminals while Ann and I sat outside of the new clubhouse, soaking up the sun and talking about life. We enjoyed a relaxed lunch with them and in the afternoon, we set off for home again feeling buoyed and refreshed.

At home, all was well with the birds and I am going to see if I can find a bead curtain that I can install to prevent them from getting into strife again. Hmm... I wonder what bead curtain is in Swedish?

The best bit of the homecoming, though was the chance to prove I was right. Was there ever any doubt? I could show Mr Skeptic videos of the versions of Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum, Joe Cocker and Annie Lennox. It was grand!

I wonder if I should test the strength of our marriage vows by daring to tell him about the Michael Bolton version? On second thoughts, I'd better not. I'm not sure anyone could survive that!