The sun is up and it's very warm this Friday morning. I have time enough to march out 4.5 miles (english) before getting my stuff together to go over to the club house in Domsand. I don't suppose I will fell like walking tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a slow day.
Potatis med dill. That is my job. Well at least the peeling. Start at the bottom. Funny how things turn out. Two years ago trying to explain to me the campsite was closed was difficult. Monica's solution, with the agreement of the others, was to let me stay on and invite me to the party. Two year on I am a club member and peeling the spuds. I smile a lot today. I absolutely adore midsommer. Raw herring (sill), beer and schnapps. Songs and dancing. The weather started to turn just as we were ready to eat, but we got away with it. The rain held off until 8. By then I had got drunk, stopped drinking, and started to sober up again. Lots of dancing with the girls then.
I put my camp bed up in the little lounge, and in what seemed like no time at all a knock on the door told me ready or not, it is time to put the coffee on. The long breakfast and sobering up begins. The breath tester is on the table between the coffee pot and the cheese. I am in the first wave sober. Apparently I didn't dream it. I actually stopped drinking at 8pm. That's new.
Never the less the day is slow and back in the forest Roland and his brother are no better than I. An afternoon nap and Euro 2012 football is all that is left for the rest of the day. I am well satisfied. If I wanted to stay sober, I wouldn't have made Sweden my second home.
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