I'm teaching fools some basic rules.

Gangster. Word.

Today we are in wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen.
A pity everything is so pricey for "us" Swedes nowadays. Even beer costs an arm and a leg. It's nice beer, mind, so the loss of limb(s) is almost worth it.
Today a member of the A-Team (Copenhagen division) staggered up to us as we were sitting in one of the squares by the main drag drinking a crafty beer in the sun (us, not him...I mean, we were the ones drinking at this point - he'd obviously finished his stash). He was clutching the usual plastic bag full of returnable beer/pop bottles and sporting an unusually awful mullet of some distinction. He appeared to have cut his own fringe with a blunt pocket-knife, leaving the back to its own devices. Lush.
Upon spying our table he blundered over and proceeded to mutter at us. I think the general gist was "Give me some money. For booze". Although I could be wrong, Danish people talking confuses me. Of course, I was having none of it and sent him on his way with a flea in his ear.
Most bizarrely of all, however, the gentleman didn't appear to be wearing any underpants. Or indeed trousers. Now there's something you don't see every day.
Nor would you wish to. Ew ew ew.

I look at yours and you laugh at mine

The bloody weather still can't seem to make up its mind.
Back in Göteborg for a few days before going up to Fiskebäckskil again. Summer seems to have moved on. Oh dear. I quite liked having it around, truth be told. I'm not sure I was ready to give it back. Mine.
England are in with a real chance in the Ashes as long as it doesn't go tits-up. Here's hoping.
Spurs have bought a couple of kids called "Kyle" from Sheffield. Hardly the big-name signing I was hoping for. Maybe there's more to come. Roll on the start of the season. Please. I'm ready now.
Spidey lives here.

Lightning is my girl

Hundreds of little froggies everywhere (top and bottom right in the pic).
Uh-uh-uh!
Getting out to the car was a tippy-toes exercise so as not to step on the little blighters. Mmmm....tiptoes. Cute.

Where do we go from here?

...is it down to the lake I fear?

I took this photo at half-past ten in the evening after a swim. Serious clarts. Nuts.

I'm not the kind of guy who dresses like a king

...so a really fine pair of shades means everything

Today has dawned sunny and glorious. Rather like myself. Ahem.
Back from Fiskebäckskil I had some packages to pick up from the post office. Najs. A few items have gone back but a few have been kept. It would be nice if I could actually wear the pair of shoes I bought without my toe hurting but I'll have to wait a little while for that to go away I suppose. Poor me.
It's all been very quiet on the transfer front as far as Spurs are concerned this summer so far. Just Zakora leaving for Sevilla so far. Maybe there'll be a shopping frenzy the last couple of weeks before the new season starts. Mmm...shopping...frenzy. The new home strip is growing on me. It'll look good on any new recruits.
Why do I still feel an urge to shop?
Too much is never enough. Not ever...

Bare ankles used to mean adventure

Today was a nice day.
Summerier (is that a word? More summery. It is now) weather has returned and all is well with the world. Sunny and warm. I have started (somewhat belatedly) watching the American version of The Office and guess what? Just like everyone else in the world has been saying for the last few years it's actually really good. Apparently it becomes more "itself" after the first series (which is almost a carbon copy of the Ricky Gervais version) so I'm looking forward to it.
My toe(s) is(are) gradually returning to their normal size/colour. Which is nice.
I ate a Subways (well, one and a half foot of Subways in fact - that's 18-inches baby) sandwich.
It's been a while, but it's still good when you come back to it.

Nu då...

Newsflash:
It's still raining.
Today I read an article in Word magazine about "Bands that only I like"...
My nomination would have to be It's Immaterial. One solitary hit with "Driving Away From Home" but a first album of almost complete perfection. Laugh-out-loud funny, off-kilter, tuneful, indie-when-it-still-meant-something magic. And a second album that slipped out without anyone even noticing. Except your eagle-eyed blogger...
Here is the best hit-that-never-was that I can think of

And a video that I-never-knew-existed

And the one-and-only-hit

Sixth form common rooms, album sleeves for school-book covers, scratching the band name in the same font (though it wasn't called a font in those days) on my school bag, coats for goalposts.
Isn't it?

You. Outside. Now.

One week of the holidays down, another four to go. Ho hum.
The weather has taken a turn for the worse. The second day in a row of torrential rain. The rain floods gutters and makes a great sound on concrete.
Today I slipped on some wet decking and lost my footing with no warning whatsoever. I smashed my tea mug against the side of the house and fell completely arse-over-tit. Ouch. My littlest toe is now a lovely shade of purple/black and resembles nothing so much as a prinskorv (or cocktail sausage, if you're reading this outside Sweden).
Please come back Mr Sunshine. We miss you.

Want to dive into your ocean

...is it raining with you?

Summer holidays are here again. It's unseasonably warm right now. i.e. it's really hot and sunny despite being summertime, haha.
It will now be at least 72 years before a British feller competes in a Wimbledon men's singles final after Murray came a cropper in the semis yesterday. A pity because it feels like he'd stand a much better chance against prissy Mr Federer than the Stifler stand-in Roddick. Particulary with his good head-to-head record and the crowd behind him. Oh well.
Today I have been swimming in the sea, lying in a hammock reading a book and sleeping and, um, doing other stuff. I'm on me 'olidays, like. Are you looking at me bra?
Wonder how the Lions got on? Cheating dirty South Africans. Bah.
I like swimming. In the sea. Very much.