After lunch at Rosendals Tradgard

I should have mentioned when writing about Rosendals Tradgard that there was a a field of flowers there for the picking. They had been planted in great thick rows leading up a small hill and old ladies walked amongst them scissors in hand making themselves neat bunches to be taken back to one of the greenhouses and paid for.

Having done our bit in the garden centre we carried on walking past a large fairground Grona Lund filled with families making the most of the warmth all clutching large boxes of chocolate. We avoided the temptation to go in and have a on the rides and took the ferry to Slussen.

We walked up some wooden steps and saw a sign for a yard sale. The sign took us to a small garden around which various tables and stalls had been set up. There was an old copper kettle and a collection of forks. I negotiated over the forks and got ten of them for the equivalent of £10.00. The chap selling them through in an ivory handled knife. I got the impression that he was going to put the money towards buying himself another can of cider. He was going to have to sell a few more forks to afford it.

We walked on and found ourselves in a run of streets full of cafes and slightly funky shops including a number of retro clothes shops that seemed to be selling the same second hand shirts you can pick up in Resurrection on Bold Street. I was cheered by a record shop and picked up the new Bill Callahan CD a full 48 hours before I would have been able to buy it back home. I also bought a CD by a Swedish singer because the cover looked interesting. So far it sounds like U2 so not a tactic that worked.

By now it was late afternoon and time to gird our loins for a drink. We had the one round then nailed down the wallet so as to resist the temptation for another and set off for something to eat.

We were not too far from Pelikan and so made that our destination. It was the most traditionally Swedish meal of the weekend in a great hall of a room with high wood clad walls, black and white tiled floor, leather on the seats and sad faced waiters who were loath to crack a smile.

I had a plate of soused herring and cheese followed by meatballs, loganberries and some of the best mashed potato we have tasted properly thick and smooth. I finished off with a glass of Schnapps. It came in a small glass jar that nestled in its own bed of ice and was a pale yellow and tasted of caraway and juniper.

A great little meal.


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