Barely setting foot back in London, I catch a Ryanair flight a few hours later to Sweden where Amelia is doing her Masters in Linkoping. Over the weekend, we took the train down to Stockholm where blue skies similar to those associated with IKEA unfolded before us, a brilliant treat for the birthday girl who had expected showers over the course of our trip to the city-on-water. It wasn't as expensive as I envisaged for one, and the warmth, friendliness and english-speakingness of the Swedish was a pleasantly surprising breath of fresh air(not that the swedish air wasn't fresh enough as it was) given the stoic ways of general Europeans rooted deep in their belief of sticking to their own languages, at risk of segregating the unwitting tourist. Perhaps I've found somewhere else I wouldn't mind living in.