Wanderings of Mind and Body

Here are the countries I have visited: France, Spain, United States of America, Portugal, Germany, Estonia, Latvia, Denmark and Finland. Now, after the weekend just passed, I can add Sweden to the list.

Hardly a list to shame Alan Whicker, I know, and some of those were for some very brief stays. France, for example, was a day trip to Calais when I was four years old. But it all counts, right? In any case, I spent the weekend up in Sweden due to the nuptials of my good friend of long standing, Mr David Coleman of noripcord.com, and his good lady Emma. Naturally, a good time was had by all though it's perhaps telling that my first words to him on arriving on Friday were "do you know anywhere to see the United game on Sunday?" (He didn't, but we managed to find somewhere in the end. Hurrah!)

Like most of Northern Europe, Sweden looks stunning. Forests and rivers abound, with the only noise at times the odd rattle of a passing train. It was interesting to contrast the way of life with that in England: for instance, no pubs in the village we were stopping in. No nearby place to stock up on beers either. It seems it's a different attitude to drinking over there. A better one? Perhaps so, given that Sweden has one of the highest qualities of life in the world.

That said, it did cause some concerns in the visiting English party, being the brazen pissheads we are over here. Luckily. the bride and groom had foreseen this problem and stocked up with plenty of strong Danish beer. At the wedding reception, the locals appeared to prefer to knock back the local Snaps, which comes complete with songs to recite before you knock it back, which made me a little sad I couldn't stand the stuff.

Modern travelling by its nature gives you a lot of time to think, as you spend way too much time sat around airports waiting. Eventually boredom creeps in and you feel like you're going to breakdown and sob to a nearby security guard that you just want to get home. So your mind wanders:

- Such as, who the fuck buys pornography at an airport? The WH Smiths in Copenhagen had a load of English wank mags on sale. I couldn't help but think someone would have to be really desperate for a session with Madame Palm and her Sisters to buy one for the equivilant for ten quid and (presumably) dash off to the bogs, otherwise you'd just wait till you got to your destination, surely?

- For some reason, I was reminded of the recent death of Nickolas Ashford. Along with Valerie Simpson, he wrote a series of songs that were performed as duets by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. Listening back to a few of those that I have on MP3 player, I'm convinced that they're the best duets ever recorded. In Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing alone, there's about three moments that I can skip back and listen to on repeat for about five minutes - check out the shift from the verse to the "No other sound..." section around 1min 16 seconds. Songwriting and delivery par excellence. Oh, and Solid was pretty great too.

- There should be some sort of arrangement that children under the age of eight should only be allowed on selected flights. Then they can all scream at each other and not bother the rest of us. Yes, I know I'm being a miser on this one, but some kid across the aisle repeatedly screeching "NO!" got on my tits after a while. Though maybe we should blame the parents, as I doubt my mother would have let me get away with that.

- Incidentally, the kid was wearing a t-shirt that said "I Love Cpn" (the love being a heart symbol). Harmless enough, but the label at the bottom of the shirt said "Just another fucking t-shirt". Now, I don't want to come across as being a bit Daily Mail, but that strikes me as a bit off. Not only the mother buying it, but the company selling it.

In conclusion, when are they going to invent those transporter things that they used in Star Trek? I like seeing new places and all that, it's just the actual getting there and back that drives me to the edge of my nerves.