Sweden and the Matter of Skies.

I was watching an episode of Wallander last night in which there was a long tracking shot of the sky. It caused me to wonder how many people spend as much time as I do looking at the sky to get a sense of its personality (‘personality’ was deliberately chosen over ‘mood’ for reasons which might or might not be obvious.) And so I wrote to the priestess, who currently lives in Sweden, to ask whether she’d studied the Swedish sky and noted any differences between them and the Australian skies with which she grew up. I’ve had no reply yet.

It’s a fact that I’m affected to a surprising degree by the personality of skies. I can stare at them for quite long periods, trying to describe them to myself with words. When I do come up with words, though, they’re usually inadequate. What I do know is that they’re capable of pushing my mood all over the place, which is probably why the only time I come anywhere close to feeling relaxed is after dark when I’m in the house with the curtains drawn. So maybe I should now stop accusing the Swedes of being glum, and instead blame the personality of the skies over which they have no control.

And on the subject of moods, I’ve now performed eight blood pressure tests with my trusty new BP monitor (which cost me the princely sum of £24.99) and am currently declaring myself to be very nearly normal. Being normal is something to which I’m relatively unaccustomed, but I’ll live with it for now.

Off to the north country in a few minutes to tag along with my favourite Swedish detective and luxuriate in the glumness engendered by the gory goings-on in Ystad. Wallander drives a Volvo, you know. A black one.