Us Swedes are an impatient people. Or maybe it’s the proximity to the North Pole that does it – after all, Santa has to start somewhere, and so he starts with us. On Christmas Eve. While in other parts of the Christian world it is Christmas Day that is the big thing, for us northerners […]
This is a post I wrote some years ago, but seeing as St Lucia’s day is an annually recurring event, I’ve decided to review, rewrite somewhat and republish ….taa-daa….today, seeing as it is December 13. Again. For most Swedish people, Christmas sort of starts on December 13. Today we celebrate St Lucia’s day, and I
St Lucia: the saint who lost her eyes and found the light Read More »
It’s a tough job being a 17th century queen. Well, in this case, we’re talking ex-queen, but Christina of Sweden was a tad sensitive about the ex, so if you didn’t want her to yell at you, it was best to stick to the “Your Majesty” when addressing her. After all, there were days when
On the subject of men who carry the seeds of their own destruction within, today I’d like to introduce you to Roger Mortimer. Seems apt, given that it is 686 years today since he was executed. This is a man who epitomises the consequences of too much ambition, too much greed. He was also an extremely
Throughout history, Denmark and Sweden have mostly been at war. Sometimes, Denmark has had the upper hand – mostly, in fact – but now and then Sweden has stomped their southern neighbours into the dust, like they did in the 17th century. Along the way, Sweden took over substantial lands previously belonging to Denmark, and
The dark has come upon us. With the resetting of the clocks – away from what we call “summer time” to “winter time” – the days become that much shorter, daylight fading already around four thirty or so in the afternoon. That’s what you get for living up here in the north – dark, dark
In 1237, Ingeborg, Dowager Queen of France, died. At the time of her death, she was approximately sixty years old, and had lived more than forty years in France, having arrived as a young and pretty bride-to be in 1193. Her intended was Philip II, King of France, a.k.a. Philip Augustus. At the time, he
Some while back, I wrote a post about Joan of Acre, Edward I’s daughter who was married off to the much older Gilbert de Clare, went on to present her doting husband with a male heir and three daughters before becoming a widow, and then had the temerity of upending her father’s plans for her
Home. A word we all have some sort of relationship with. Home conjures up a place of safety, a sensation of belonging, of having roots. For those obliged to flee their home, the word is intimately connected with grief, with fear for the future, with not belonging. For those who’ve never had a home, it
I grew up with a singing mother. Not so that she was constantly warbling, flitting hither and dither, but she liked to sing, and in particular she liked to listen to and sing along with Italian artists – more specifically San Remo winners. Why this love affair with Italy, one wonders, and I suppose the