It happens now and then, mostly in summer time, I get hit by Sweden fever. Suddenly I do not like crowds and the fact that I can get international food around my corner for hardly no money at all is no longer as interesting or fabulous as Swedish summers and running naked and jumping into a lake in a vast woodland.
I drift into my imagination, log onto Hemnet and look for my Swedish dream, my own torp. It should have a garden and no neighbours but the forest, be very close to a lake and of-course it is red and has white corners and a lot of character. I my mind I buy it, get two old fat cats, plant a apple tree, sit down by a type writer with a scoth and all of a sudden start writing bestsellers.
Of-course the fact that I cannot drive a car or have a drivers license and therefor would not even be able to get myself food is a petitesse, or the fact that I stopped writing 15 years ago. But it is nice to day dream, and look what you can get for the ridiculous amount of 225 000 Swedish Krona! And it is absolutely corrupt-London-landlord-free and you would pay as much for this place monthly as for a room in central London.
PS. Don't buy it though...it's mine.