Hej! We spent last week in Sweden with Catherine, AJ and their incredible baby daughter and – to be honest – we’re all about ready to move to Stockholm and share a flat together. But in the meantime, let me gush about what a great week we had. 😊🇸🇪
Having arrived pre-armed with the Stockholm Go City pass for our two full days in the capital, we started our whirlwind tour with the Fotografiska museum of photography. Well, technically we started with a very nice lunch in the bougie restaurant on the top floor of the Fotografiska, but we worked our way down to the art eventually. I think the exhibition we all liked was Diana Markosian’s Santa Barbara, a recreation of her mother’s migration from disintegrating post-USSR Moscow to California as a mail-order bride. (This was especially resonant having only just seen the play Patriots in London with my mum on Friday night, but more on that later.) That day we also made it to the Nobel Prize Museum – the coolest part of which is a toss-up between reading some of Einstein’s letters and the mechanical ceiling display in which every Nobel Prize winner slowly circulates around a track. If you’re someone who’s reading this and feels you might be close to winning a Nobel Prize, I hope this is the incentive you need to keep going.
There is something charmingly mad about Stockholm. It just seems like a massive effort to build a whole city around many little interconnected islands, but of course everything is organised brilliantly (at least through the eyes of a tourist) so the next morning it was easy to catch a ferry across to Skansen, the world’s oldest open-air museum which is part-zoo and part homage to pre-industrial Swedish life. We wandered around, admired the bears and puzzled over why Catherine’s ancestors decided to leave such a charming and idyllic country and get on a boat to Minnesota instead. (Side-note: the island of DjurgÃ¥rden also boasts its own theme park, Gröna Lund, which we didn’t visit but whose rollercoasters were teasingly prominent in the skyline. Next time!)
After an outdoor lunch (and wine, lots of wine) at the very sunny Rosendals TrädgÃ¥rd garden café, we meandered along the riverbank to a cluster of museums, popping into the Nordic Museum, the Vasa Museum and the Viking Museum, where AJ and I encouraged his child to arm herself with a Viking sword while Randi and Catherine drank beers outside, blissfully unaware. Of these, the Vasa is the most striking – the whole museum being built around a largely intact 17th century Swedish warship which was recovered from Stockholm’s harbour in 1961.
Once you actually read the exhibits, however, things get a little disappointing. Why, you might ask, was a 17th century Swedish warship lying at the bottom of Stockholm’s harbour in the first place? The answer is because it sank a few minutes into its maiden voyage. Was there a sudden storm? An iceberg? Attack of the pirates? No, it turns out the whole design of the ship was structurally unsound from the very beginning and would have never coped with even a light breeze. So, in reality, the museum is a monument to a total failure. Sweden being Sweden, they were sophisticated enough in 1628 to hold an inquiry into the disaster, although since the King was partly to blame it’s maybe not surprising that it failed to reach any definitive conclusions.
For the second half of our trip we took a ferry to the island of Gotland where, allegedly, Eurovision winner Loreen lives. (To be clear, that’s not why we went, and this unverified intel was provided later by a friendly but possibly unreliable witness who stood behind us in an ice cream queue.) Aside from possibly being Loreen’s home, Gotland is famous for the medieval town of Visby and its beautifully-preserved historic centre, which is dotted by many, many church ruins and encircled by a very much not-ruined defensive wall. Visby is where we stayed and also where we enjoyed a great walking tour by a cheerful British immigrant to Gotland, albeit one who left out any mention of the fearsome Victual Brothers – a gang of pirates who plundered Gotland during the 1390s before being expelled by some Teutonic Knights. My suspicion is that telling this story would have made the town wall seem less impressive.
In addition to lots of eating and drinking in Visby itself, we also set aside a day to visit the much smaller island of FÃ¥rö, which has a tiny population (around 500) but is a popular summer spot for Swedes and just a short hop from Gotland on a car ferry. Despite being so small, it’s kinda incredible how different its east and west coasts are. One side is all windswept rock formations and shrubland, whilst we emerged onto the other to find sandy beaches and a sparkling blue sea. (The relaxed music from the beach bar was so incongruous it felt like we’d stepped out of reality into one of those dreamlike metaphorical cut scenes from a film.)
For lunch the island is blessed with a wonderful little pasta place, Pastamakarna, which is staffed mostly by FÃ¥rö residents and serves up warm, hearty bowls of pasta which made us all very happy. In fact, this is a good moment to sing the praises of all of the food we ate in Sweden, from our daily cardamom buns or the egg and caviar breakfast sandwich I picked up from a bakery at Stockholm Central to the ‘Chef’s Choice’ mystery meatballs on takeaway night, the amazing pickled herring or the tasty sourdough bread. As Randi and I had a later flight on Sunday morning, we also got to sample/gorge on the breakfast buffet at the fancy hotel which Catherine very generously donated her points for us all to stay at on the last night back in Stockholm. Would recommend.
To sum up: Sweden is great, and let’s not think too much about the other half of the year when those long, light summer evenings get inverted. Our only major failure was failing – twice! – to turn up early enough to bag spots on the English-speaking tour of the Swedish parliament, but – if any Swedes are reading this – please note that we did not pretend to be Swedish speakers and sneak onto that tour instead, as other tourists definitely did. We did make it to the ABBA museum on the last day, however, of which my favourite part was simply watching clips of Eurovision presenters from 1974. My, how things have changed.
But honestly, I think I would be happy to share an apartment for a week with Catherine and AJ just about anywhere, especially when there’s someone fun to play with who has now mastered the art of walking around, laughing and swatting me with a fly swat. It was also so nice to be able to just stay up chatting late into the night, even if AJ did sometimes insist on making us guess answers to Swedish quiz questions. Can’t wait for our next adventure!
As mentioned above, before leaving for Sweden my mum treated us to Patriots as an early birthday present: a Peter Morgan play about the rise of Russian oligarch Boris Berezovsky in the ashes of the former USSR, his early support for Putin as his protege/puppet and then his dramatic fall from grace and exile in London as Putin turned out to be less controllable than planned. It’s such a fascinating story – the type of play where you’ll find yourself ingesting giant Wikipedia articles on the Tube home afterwards, trying to work out how much is true before concluding that it’s basically all true, at least so far as the basic facts. Even the events which I lived through (such as the poisoning of Litvinenko) is now a shock to remember that it happened. And the lead actors were both great: Berezovsky with all of the bullying charm which a kleptocrat requires, and Putin permanently seething with such suppressed rage that you can see it in how he walks. Another great play this year.
This first weekend back after Sweden has also been super busy, starting with Alison Hook’s retirement party on Friday night at QPCS. Ms Hook was my GCSE English teacher and all-round extraordinary organiser of so many trips, programmes, summer schools, productions and publications – the kind of force of nature which you take for granted at the time, but I’m so glad that so many people were there to pay tribute. (In fact, it was surprising how many former students and teachers I actually knew.) After staying over at my mum’s I got to hang out with Josh, Anna and Cora on Saturday morning – including more sandpit playtime! – before some shared birthday celebrations at Ottolenghi Spitalfields in the evening with mum, Randi, Tash and Cormac.
It is my birthday tomorrow, in fact, so finishing this blog before midnight is now a race against time while I’m still 33. But happily I can sign off on a wonderful (and very unexpected note) because today Randi and I got to spend most of the afternoon with my friend Jen, who lives in New Zealand but is visiting for a couple of weeks. I last saw Jen in 2016 but we had such good conversation about everything under the sun, and (as is maybe a running theme here) there’s basically nothing better than reuniting with a good friend. Especially when the sun is shining, you have a table at the Honor Oak and there’s a three-tier birthday lemon cake waiting for you back home…
Tack tack!
Happy Bank Holiday 3/3 for May 2023! The second one proved to be both productive and nostalgic, as Kira (and her cats) had just moved into a new flat near where we used to live. After completing some IKEA engineering challenges together we went on a big walking tour of our favourite parks before rejoining Randi’s parents at our old local pub, Knowles of Norwood, which is thankfully still open for business and – in fact – has recently expanded into a larger space.
This was the last week of Beth and Stu’s visit to the UK, so that Friday we celebrated Randi’s birthday a few days early with a fancy dinner and lots of delicious sharing plates at Ottolenghi’s ROVI restaurant. (Fair warning: there are a lot of restaurants coming up in this post. It’s been a very, very good couple of weeks for eating.) The next day we sauntered up to Andrew and Bonnie’s for lunch – always a great dining experience in its own right! – plus some explanations of cricket and somewhat competitive tours of Alexandra Palace and its early TV broadcast history. (We got Bonnie, Beth and Stu got Andrew.) Then, appropriately, we sped home for the definitive broadcast event of the modern day: Eurovision!
It seems odd that in all our years of evangelising Eurovision we’d never actually shown it to Randi’s parents, and while there was a mixed response to the timeslot (“the voting doesn’t end until midnight?!”) they were enthusiastic about completing their official Eurovision 2023 scorecards. Personally, I’m not convinced that previous winners should be allowed to compete again, and would rather Finland’s catchy Cha Cha Cha, Norway’s Queen of Kings or Austria’s tribute to Edgar Allan Poe (there aren’t enough nineteenth century literary references at Eurovision) had beaten Sweden’s (perfectly decent) entry, whose predictable triumph made the whole results section feel less dramatic than usual. Come back next year?
The next day we were treated to an extremely tasty lunch (and more birthday celebrations!) at Tash and Cormac’s flat, followed by a tour of Leyton including Leyton Jubilee Park and its jolly pirate ship. And that was (almost) it for Beth and Stu’s latest visit to London, aside from the very important business of Stu’s homemade hamburgers on their final night with us. (Public service announcement: burgers go better in rolls of challah.) After they had left, Randi’s actual birthday night was spent in Dulwich’s Megan’s in the Hamlet, where (a) the marmalade cocktail is amazing, (b) the staff are super-fun and willing to share inside gossip.
I have been casually saying “Randi’s birthday” but- excitingly – it was also her 30th birthday. So, that weekend, we pushed the foodie boat even more and had lunch at three Michelin-starred The Waterside Inn. (One star for each decade, you see.) In case you’re wondering, there are only eight restaurants with three Michelin stars in the UK and – weirdly – two of them are just a few minutes’ walk from each other in the small Berkshire village of Bray (population: 9110). Assuming you aren’t one of those 9110 people, the easiest way to get to Bray is to take the Elizabeth Line to Maidenhead and then (ignoring the nonsensical website instructions to take a taxi) enjoy a delightful 35 minute walk through Braywick Park until you reach the restaurant on the banks of the Thames. Easy peasy.
Since I’m not really a foodie person, I have neither the writing talent nor much photographic evidence of the sevenish-course ‘Menu Exceptionnel’ we devoured. (And what counts as a ‘course’, really? There were actually eight lines on the menu if you include the tea & coffee and petit fours, which was brought out to us on the riverside terrace after the afternoon sun came out. But that doesn’t include Randi’s bonus birthday dessert, or the amazing pre-stater-startery things! So I don’t know. It was a lot.) Suffice to say, everything was really, really good, all the way from the mushroom pâté at the beginning to the soufflé with hot rhubarb compote poured through the middle at the end. Would recommend. I would also recommend walking along the river path to Windsor afterwards, especially if the weather was as perfect as it was for us.
The fine food (and drink) just kept on coming this month, including a work dinner with an incredible Indian tasting menu (in a private room with a huge glass window overlooking the kitchen) and, the following night, gastropub delights with Jill, Lee and some partners we work together with. Clearly on a roll, on Friday night Randi and I took my mum out for her birthday at the Tash-starred restaurant Ayam Zaman in Shepherd’s Bush. (I was about to add “…and went overboard on the meze” but, honestly, I don’t regret ordering any of it.)
After dinner we went to the Bush to see Invisible, only a mere fortnight after seeing August in England at the same theatre with Randi’s parents. (Having now seen three shows there within two months, the Bush Theatre is now hands-down our favourite venue and we already have our next pair of tickets.) August in England premiered last month and stars Lenny Henry as August Henderson, a Windrush-era arrival from Jamaica whose life story is told movingly and beautifully from childhood to being threatened with deportation during the Windrush scandal 52 years later. Of course, it’s Lenny Henry so much of the play is also hilarious, but he kept our audience enraptured all the way from boisterous comedy to the most poignant moments.
Similarly, Nikhil Parmar’s Invisible is another one-man show performed with electric energy. The story of a struggling actor, failing to be seen beyond the restrictive racial stereotypes in which he is cast, combines great physical comedy with an undercurrent of deep rage and violent fantasy. It’s hard to be too specific without giving away the twists, but it’s another play which you should definitely catch if you can.
And finally:
- I managed to kick-off a fascinating and (hopefully productive) evening of political campaign brainstorming by knocking over Kirsty’s vase and emptying close-to-100% of its contents on the floor. This is why I’m not a consultant. But it was a great evening nonetheless!
- After Randi, Reema and I finally got ourselves into the same spot and stopped wandering independently around Brockwell Park, we were able to have a lovely evening of pizza and beer together at Bullfinch Brewery (which we’ve always wanted to go to!).
- It’s been a while (OK, it’s been seven months) but Randi and I walked London Loop Section 3 on Saturday and it was sunny and spectacular. Also, the ice cream van at Keston Ponds is the best.
- Kira came round to play Dominion last night, and I have really, really missed being able to play several rounds of Dominion in a group of three. (We still miss you though, Amanda.) Kira also brought ice cream with her.
- Today, on Bank Holiday 3/3, Randi used Katie’s birthday gift vouchers towards brunch at Dishoom in Canary Wharf (thank you Katie!) before leading us on a walk most of the way home through the Isle of Dogs, the Greenwich Foot Tunnel and then to Lewisham via Greenwich Park and Blackheath. Basically, the perfect encapsulation of all the ‘eating + walking’ stuff I’ve just written.
Back in April I spent a weekend in Norfolk/Suffolk with two different sets of cousins, starting with my cousin Julie who met me for a drink in Diss before we enjoyed a walk around Thornham Park. Julie has recently become a postie, although sadly she’d finished her shift so I missed my chance to ride along in a red Royal Mail van. That evening, I was kindly transferred over to Frankie and Anya’s new place in time for dinner and playtime with my next-generation cousin Lena, from whom I’ve now learnt that it’s totally pointless to try and separate Play-Doh colours once they’ve been combined.
Through Lena’s influence I also became a big fan of Disney’s Elena of Avalor series, mostly because I was impressed by the structured exercise of Princess Elena’s executive authority through a Grand Council. Honestly, Avalor’s constitution seems to function much better than most Disney monarchies, and I have high confidence that its citizens won’t wake up to find that all their spinning wheels have been appropriated and destroyed on spurious security grounds or that a sea witch can kidnap and imprison people with impunity thanks to some libertarian contract law.
Once Lena had gone to bed, I continued to have a great night with Frankie and Anya watching highly-questionable ‘travel influencer’ videos (although in retrospect, maybe we should have just watched Elena of Avalor) before going for a walk together around Ickworth House near Bury St Edmunds the next day. Thanks to all of my East Anglian relatives for hosting me!
The week afterwards, Randi’s parents arrived in London in time for the biggest and most exciting event of the last few weeks: Randi and Katie running the London Marathon!
For sure it was an exhausting day, but I’m very proud to say that thanks to some intensive planning and preparation, everything came together… and, with very impressive timings, James and I successfully navigated between our three spectator spots to be able to cheer them on. So congratulations to us!
In all seriousness, Randi and Katie both smashed it and looked impressively unperturbed during the entire run. I remember standing and waiting for my uncle Andrew to go past when he ran the London Marathon years ago, and it’s notable how things have changed with phones and tracking apps. The atmosphere at the London Marathon has always been lovely, but now it’s much more fun to be in a big WhatsApp group with fellow supporters, sharing photos and videos of our runners at lots of different points along the route. Also, I think Tash deserves a medal of her own for booking a pub table near the finish line for us all to congregate at afterwards. Bravo.
Dedicated readers of this blog may remember that Randi and I slid down the Orbit slide back in 2021, but at the time I didn’t have any pictures from the top as all belongings must be stowed in a locker. The secret, it turns out, is to visit the Orbit as part of a corporate shindig (in this case, the ‘Shortyz Awards’ for the short-term rental industry) in which case the queue for the slide is much shorter and someone will happily hold your phone as you go down. So, what follows are some belated photos from the top, before you fly down to the bottom in an unflattering cap. I continue to find the ride itself oddly relaxing.
Later that week Randi and I had a really enjoyable dinner with her colleague Stephen and his partner Viv, before taking the train up to the East Yorkshire coast on Friday for a long weekend with our parents in an amazing cliffside cottage by the sea. This ‘Puffin Palace’ belongs to two family friends, Helen and Anthony, who very generously lent it to us all for the first of this year’s three May bank holidays. (What a time to be alive!)
Although we didn’t see any of the aforementioned puffins, we did go on several stunning walks along the cliffs, ate very well and answered a lot of “on this day” quiz questions. (Boastful quizzing side-note: Randi, Stewart and I also did great on some obscure US Presidential trivia on the train home.)
On our return we also had the pleasure of hosting Kim for her first few nights back in the UK on a visit from Australia. Along with some Tim Tams and Vegemite Shapes, Kim also gifted us with an incredible homemade Carcassonne-themed wedding present which is the perfect accompaniment to our original wedding meeples from Catherine and AJ. Thanks, Kim!
And finally, today Randi and I went down to Hassocks to spend Coronation day (for Charles, not Elena of Avalor) with Simon, Fleur and Cleo. I mean, to clarify, we didn’t visit them with any particularly royalty-themed purposes in mind… although we did all end up eating the official coronation quiche for lunch at the local garden centre/café/lawnmower museum because it genuinely seemed like it would be quite nice. (And so it was!)
P.S. Happy 19th birthday blog, which reached this uneventful milestone on 27th April. As per tradition I searched for any exciting new legal rights for age 19, but all I could find were things (e.g. free dental care) you start losing instead…
It’s been a busy few weeks! A few weeks ago I attended Booking.com’s annual partner conference in Amsterdam, held on a grander and flashier scale than last year and – most excitingly – included an appearance from 2014 Eurovision winner Conchita Wurst at their big party on Wednesday night. I think I actually missed Eurovision that year, so I’m glad I finally got to see her perform, although it was her cover of the instantly recognisable Everyway That I Can (Turkey, 2003) which was the biggest crowd-pleaser of all.
Amsterdam itself was as lovely as ever, even in drizzly March. Public service announcement: the trains accept contactless card payment now, so the “standing confused beside the ticket machine” phase of your trip is now a thing of the past. Hurray!
After getting back home on Thursday night, Randi and I finally made it to Tash and Cormac’s new flat for a wonderful ‘London Supper Club’ Friday night with my mum and Cormac’s dad Brendan. Alongside a true feast of Indian cooking we enjoyed a riotous night of poetry, songs and one interpretative tin whistle performance (you’re welcome) which really buoyed us up into a cheerful mood for the whole weekend. It also inspired me and Randi to read The Importance of Being Earnest aloud together one evening a few weeks later. Who needs Netflix, really?
Talking of readings – a few days later, at the stone setting service in memory of my great uncle Leonard, many of our family dug deep into our email archives to perform some of Leonard’s famous emails from years gone by. For most people this would probably be pretty dull, but Leonard’s emails were certainly flights of storytelling… even if the story he was telling was normally a tale of trial and tribulation. Thanks to my friend Simon for inspiring us with his Charles Dance-esque interpretation of Leonard’s writing a few years back.
For some professional entertainment, Randi and I also saw Sleepova that Saturday at the Bush Theatre, a play about the enduring power of teenage friendship as four girls go through life’s ups and downs during their GCSE years. Everything about this play just worked for us: serious themes, but always funny, warm-spirited and life-affirming at the same time. I’d never been to the Bush Theatre before but it’s as close to perfect a venue you can get, with strong vibes of the Tricycle in its glory days. All four characters felt real and relatable, albeit with some subtly different attitudes to the generation I remember (because I’m old now) but always played with warmth and humanity which kept you rooting for them all. You really know a play is working when one of the characters tells her parents something that she shouldn’t, and the audience all instinctively sighs together with frustration. Highly recommended. (I mean, the run is over now, but in theory at least: highly recommended.)
Even more culture: a week earlier Randi and I had a very rare movie night in and watched Everything Everywhere All At Once, the Oscar-winning universe-hopping surrealist sci-fi comedy centered on a Chinese American immigrant family and their quest to save the multiverse and/or save their laundromat from an IRS tax audit. Unlike Sleepova, you’ve probably seen this already and don’t need me to describe it to you. But it’s very good, and a real delight to see a film so brimming with creativity and imagination. Also, I should note that we finally finished Our Friends in the North after I (falsely) promised to Randi that the final episode must be more uplifting than those couple leading up to it. It was a promise made with the best of intentions, but sadly proved inaccurate.
Recently, while having brunch with Josh, Anna and Cora, we learnt that Josh and Anna were planning a romantic couple’s getaway together to Thorpe Park. Unfortunately I didn’t mask my excitement at the idea, nor the fact that I still had a day of annual leave to burn before the end of March, and that’s how I ended up inviting myself along to Josh and Anna’s rollercoastery day out. Of course, it was totally worth it, especially as it included a sleepover of our own the night before so I got to spend even more time with Cora (who now talks all the time!).
The next morning the three of us set out for a day of rides and ride analysis, of which my main conclusions are (a) Saw is probably Thorpe Park’s best all-round rollercoaster now, but (b) I’m really glad I went off to ride Stealth again because – although Josh and Anna aren’t fans – it’s up there as one of my favourite rides of all time. It’s been years since I was last at Thorpe Park and investment (along with visitor numbers) has fallen away since I was a teenager, but they are now finally working on a new rollercoaster so I guess we’ll just have to go back again once it opens…
Finally, in exciting and still slightly surreal news, I’m very happy that my friend and colleague Kira has just successfully made the move to the UK. By a weird twist of fate she’s spending her first few weeks in Willesden Green, so on Friday night we celebrated her arrival at the excellent Beer + Burger. But by Sunday the wheels were already in motion for Randi’s South East London sales pitch, and together with our colleague Patricia we enjoyed a great shakshuka and challah brunch at ours before playing some energetic rounds of Cobra Paw and a good game of Citadels. Then, since we’re all still excited by the novelty of it being light and sunny outside, we walked over to Crystal Palace together for ice creams and dinosaurs. More South East London at its best! And all part of Randi’s plan.
Randi and I already had plans to to visit Bristol this Easter weekend, since – although I’ve heard many good things about the city – my only actual experience of it was a brief (and very odd) day trip for work back in my Groupon UK days, and that was to an offensively ugly office building which I hoped wasn’t representative of the whole place. Happily, once we knew Kira would be in the country by then, we managed to persuade her to join us and so the three of us took the train up on Friday and stayed in an Airbnb loft in the fancy Clifton area. (Yes, as in the Clifton Suspension Bridge – which is indeed very cool to look at and walk over.)
I really, really liked Bristol from what I saw. Because it’s so hilly and green, and because so many of the buildings are built from Georgian stone (and on roads which refuse to form straight lines but instead criss-crossing crescents at different levels) there’s just a lot to look at and admire as you walk around, without mentioning the colourful houses, beautiful artwork and harbour area. We basically did a lot of walking – including through the expansive Leigh Woods – interspersed with a lot of eating, from authentic Cuban food to a proper pub roast on Easter Sunday itself, plus a very healthy number of Easter eggs. We also enjoyed Victoria Park and the M Shed museum, rewatched Free Solo together and played a couple of big-money games of Dominion Prosperity.
When humanity really comes together to solve a problem, don’t bet against us. For decades, we’ve struggled against the idea that the only way to attend a 1977 ABBA concert in-person was either (a) to be alive in 1977, or (b) to travel back to 1977 using a time machine. Option A is, of course, deeply exclusionary to anyone born after 1977. Option B, on the other hand, is fraught with risk. What if your time machine breaks down and you become stuck in the late 70s? What if you accidentally kill your grandfather? What if you’re so focused on trying to keep your grandfather alive that you fail to live in the moment and don’t properly enjoy the moment?
Fortunately, technology has solved this highly specific problem with ABBA Voyage, a ‘virtual concert residency’ held in a purpose-built stadium next to Pudding Mill Lane DLR. (I can’t stress how incongruous this station is. There seems so little reason for it to exist other than ABBA Voyage that the merchandise store is built into the entrance.) After Randi’s parents bought themselves tickets to the show ahead of their upcoming London visit, we might have made our envy a little too obvious because they then generously gifted us a pair of our own – thank you! – which is how Randi and I ended up rocking up to experience this marvel for ourselves.
I loved it on three levels:
- Because who wouldn’t enjoy an ABBA concert?
- Because some people in the audience are more exuberant and/or wearing fancy dress, and from our seats we had a perfect view for people watching. Special love to the four friends sitting in front of us in matching outfits.
- Because the technology is very impressive. There’s a lot of well choreographed light and video, and while the enlarged versions of the ABBA avatars (‘ABBAtars’) on the giant screens just look like a decent video game, the actual-size ‘holograms’ themselves are utterly indistinguishable on stage from the real thing. By the end I was starting to fall into wild conspiracy theories that they were actually animatronic or projections onto real people or some other ruse.
Pedants’ corner: no, they aren’t actually holograms; it’s an updated version of the Victorian Pepper’s ghost theatre trick from 1862 involving laser projections, mirrors and mylar. Weirdly, when I got home and started hunting through YouTube for a satisfying explanation of how this works, most people seemed more interested in explaining “how do you recreate 1977 ABBA with computers in the first place?” rather than “how do you take your recreation and make it look real on a stage?”. If you’re wondering, the way you recreate 1977 ABBA is by making 2021 ABBA wear motion capture suits and dance for five weeks. But that bit seemed obvious.
Back in 2023, Randi and I also received a mysterious box from Toggolyn which turned out to contain – amongst other things – EL: The Chicago Transit Adventure board game. Thank you two, too! We also journeyed up the Bakerloo line for brunch with my mum and then Austin’s 2nd birthday party, which was lots of fun. Last weekend, though, we escaped London entirely for a trip to Oswestry…
At least, that was the plan, until we woke up on Friday to discover that the taxi companies of Oswestry had pulled their cars off the road thanks to all the snow and ice. Not to be defeated, we decided to take the train as far as Wolverhampton and stay overnight in (another) emergency Premier Inn before making the final connection to Gobowen station the next morning and walking the final few miles to Oswestry once the temperatures had risen and the sun was out.
(Yes, it is stupid that Gobowen – population: 3270 – has a railway station while Oswestry – population: 17,105 – does not. Of course, as is usually the case, Oswestry did once have a station of its own but this was closed in 1966 as part of the “let’s be wrong about basically every aspect of town planning” trend which was in vogue at the time. Once I get my time machine up and running, I will attempt to address this once I make sure my grandfather is out of harm’s way.)
After checking in to our amazing B&B we met up with Lucy, whom – it was frightening to realise – I haven’t seen in person for nine whole years. But putting this scary thought aside, it was really lovely to catch-up while she led us on a beautifully snowy trek along the Shropshire Way. Later that evening, suitably warmed-up again, we all had dinner together in a cosy village pub (you know, the type with a fireplace) and argued about whether London really needed a purpose-built venue for virtual ABBA concerts. (I still vote yes.)
On the way home we passed on seeing any more of Wolverhampton (sorry, Wolverhampton) in favour of getting the tram to Birmingham and hanging out there for a few hours before our final train home. (If the closure of Oswestry’s railway station upset you earlier, take some comfort that the modern West Midlands Metro mostly runs over the old path of another closed line, so there’s always hope.) The past may be a foreign country, but that doesn’t mean you can’t visit.
Jeff DuBowe on Haarlem globetrotters: “One of our favorite spots. Super walking city. I think we were the ones who told your In-Laws about it…” Oct 14, 15:15
