I will write a few posts about the museums and historic palaces I visited during my trip to Stockholm in July, but before that, here’s the rest of the summer, sans the dull stuff. Let’s pretend it was all about barefoot garden walks, female heroism, erotic literature, Swedish paintings of naked ladies by midnight lakes and swimming, with no traces of angst or moving country panic.
I am back and as pretentious as ever! Also, I’m currently revamping this space, so please excuse the mess; the confusing categories, various fonts, differently sized images. I originally intended to use this blog to document and review historical outings, museum visits and exhibitions, but I never seem to find the time to upload and edit anything.
[1.] Vanity by the bookshelves [2.] Graduation bouquet [3.] Reading Hazlitt in St. James’s churchyard [4.] Gainsborough’s house on Pall Mall [5.] Nautical inclinations feat. new elephant belt [6.] Self portrait by Mary Moser at the NPG; she was an 18th century painter and a founding member of the Royal Academy [7.] Basement library at the Oxford and Cambridge Club.
A few glimpses of everyday London before I move next month. I regret having to leave, yet I cannot wait to get away. Another suitcase in another hall; in the autumn I’ll be fine.
In January I graduated with an MA in Eighteenth-Century Studies. The robes we wore were designed by Vivienne Westwood (the only time I’ll ever be wearing anything that fancy) and I wore mine with such dignity.
This is what it looked like one year and a six months earlier, at my first graduation. A decidedly more fun ceremony because of the location, the mortarboards and the presence of Johanne.
While looking for some Christmas gifts earlier in December, I came across one of my favourite Swedish children’s books, Emil i Lönneberga, and had a laugh when it fell open on this page, as it was depicting a very familiar scenario. This was pretty much exactly what had happened the day before when my father got stuck while looking for Christmas decorations. When we found him he was just about visible through the small cellar window, flailing on top of all the cardboard storage boxes, calling for help.
In January my sister performed in her college play (revy), which was amazing. It is actually a series of satirical sketches written, directed and performed by the students and it is a quite widespread tradition, as most of the colleges/high schools/upper secondary schools in Oslo participate. A few days ago their production even won this year’s award (revyprisen), meaning they will re-stage their production at the National Theatre this spring!
After Christmas I accompanied my father on a short trip to our summer house to drop off a few things. It was such a dark night, as only Scandinavian winters can conjure up, so we left the headlights on the car on to enable us to find the path to the house, which resulted in a rather eerie atmosphere.
Christmas through my instagram however, looked far less like an episode of The Walking Dead: some decorations, two gifts, a bit of snow that practically melted overnight and a walk on the fortress walls.
Christmas morning we watched Tri orisky pro popelku (Three Wishes for Cinderella) as we do every year. I will never grow tired of that sassy, bow and arrow wielding Cinderella. The pink girl with a basket hanging on the tree is one of my favourite ornaments which I have had since childhood.
One the gifts I received this year was fancy hair clips and they didn’t look entirely out of place on the tree either.
Another gift was the first volume of Laila Duran’s Scandinavian Folklore. It is such a great book, full of photographs of and articles about Scandinavian national dress.