It sucks not being in a country that celebrates midsummer. Today, Midsummer Eve, is the most relaxed day of the year in the Nordics, more so that Christmas when everybody is stressing to get all the shopping stuff done. No, midsummer is all about getting some booze, food and maybe a good book and getting the hell out of the city to the nearest (or farthest, more often) summer cottage and just chilling with your friends. Preferably, by the sea.
It’s about pretty dresses, romance and picking seven different kinds of flowers, putting them under your pillow when you go to sleep and dreaming of the person you’re going to marry. And waking up with bugs in your hair...
And here in UK? Nothing. Nothing at all. The closest thing you get here is Summer solstice when crusty hippies gather by Stonehenge to get high. Not really the same thing is it?
So depressing. If I had my own flat, I would have had a Midsummer party, with schnapps and new potatoes and lots of strawberries. Next year, maybe.
No, next year, I hope to be at my friends house outside of Stockholm, with the little sauna on the end of a bridge, paper lanterns in the apple trees and all that jazz. Sigh....
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