read the headlines of Sweden’s redtops, as certain parts of the country have hit a newsworthy -35 degrees.
We’ve already started writing in the new year. For the past fortnight we have set up shop in an old theatre near the remote Swedish town of Alvsbacka (Latitude: 59° 43’ 0 N, Longitude: 13° 40’ 0 E, for all you GOS heads out there), between two vast lakes that have completely frozen over.
On arrival, 15 ft from the front door our van decided 7 tonnes of recording gear was all too much and rolled slowly into a ditch. After some futile struggling with snow chains and 3 twig limbed musicians pushing the back, we gave up and called the area handyman. He knew an 86 year old with a tractor who kindly offered to tow us out, once he’d finished his tea. God bless you, you beautiful gaffer of the night.
Most days are a steady -7 degrees, punctuated only by trips to the shed for more firewood and the occasional stint in the lakeside sauna (pants on, we are British after all). We share our lodgings with a pair of mice considerate enough to maintain a crumb free kitchen floor and keep the squeaking down to a minimum whilst we’re recording the melodeon.
We’ve got the best part of a song finished and few morsels for future development. We’re proud as new parents. Hopefully you’ll get to hear them in some form before long, when they’re good and ready mind.
For those of you wallowing in winter blues, a big hug from me to thee. Remember, it could be worse. Spare a thought for the poor Swedes whose only distraction from the intense climate is a handful of articles about how f ing cold it is.