Rumours of my demise from Swedeland are incredibly premature. Yes I did sneak over to Germany to stock up on booze, which you’ll be reading about on this fine site, but despite some wild speculation I didn’t remain in the fatherland and start up a new blog called ‘Germtalker.’ That just sounds plain weird. Raus.
Two weeks have passed since that day trip to Sassnitz. I accompanied a bunch of auld fellas for the trip and got the chance to practice my svenska with the gamla gubbar. Quite a day was had but I must confess that was the last time I really tried to speak my adopted tongue. Since then I’ve been snowed under at home and had to skip class on more occasions than I would like to disclose. In a few wee hours I’m going to return and frankly I don’t feel optimistic. All I can cling onto is that I’ve had Gomorron Sverige on in the background while I beaver away at the laptop. There was a great segment last week about a famous Danish TV presenter who was parachuted into Malmö for a day and ended up in a local family’s house surrounded by kids playing the guitar. I’ve no idea what his name is so perhaps you can help? It was on last Friday.
Fingers crossed for tomorrow eh ;-/