I took my bike to the repair shop (the cranks and pedals were making noise and not moving smoothly). When I got it back, with new cranks and pedals and the thingamajig they attach to, it also had freshly pumped tires. Now the tires were far from soft before and I hadn’t even noticed that they could be pumped harder, but gosh what a difference it made.

I like Bromma cykelservice. At first I only chose this place because it is conveniently located halfway on my commute, where I can take the bus the rest of the way home. But they’re also fast and friendly and they know what they’re doing, and they don’t cost an arm and a leg.

First day at work.

The new office has excellent facilities for cyclists. There are secure parking rooms for bikes, and clean, spacious showers. No more parking under the bridge!

We went for a cruise along the river Emajõgi that cuts through Tartu.

Tartu is not like Stockholm with pretty old buildings along the waterside. In central Tartu, the river is flanked by parks with large old trees. Further out there are scruffy old wharfs and then some equally scruffy industrial areas. Cruising past there feels like seeing the backside of Tartu. Even further out there are meadows and hanging willows.

Our cruise passed several cool works of graffiti. Tartu’s politicians obviously don’t share Stockholm city council’s view that all graffiti is vandalism. After the cruise we went for an improvised graffiti walk upriver from the boat harbour to see more.

While Ingrid is playing computer games with her Estonian friends, Adrian and I walked to a playground. It was hot and we didn’t stay very long.

We’re in Tartu.

During our past summer trips, we’ve been staying in various short-term rental apartments. (I can recall six different ones at least, ranging from just about liveable to really nice.) This summer we got the chance to stay at my father’s apartment since he spends all summer at his cottage in the countryside anyway.

His apartment is literally across the street from my childhood home. From his balcony, I can look straight at the windows of the kitchen and children’s room where I lived for twelve years. Ground floor, far left, just above the two parked cars. Two rooms, kitchen, small bathroom and toilet. Estonian apartments all tend to have a toilet separate from the bathroom, both tiny, rather than one more spacious room for both.

We moved there when I was about two and a half, and I lived there until I was fifteen. One of my very earliest memories is from a visit to that building when it was nearly ready for moving in. I remember the concrete stairs in front of the building not being quite ready yet, or maybe there was a pit in front of them – I couldn’t climb up and had to be lifted up.

Much of it still looks the same on the outside, even though it’s probably all modern on the inside. The old leaky wooden windows have been replaced with modern aluminium ones. I remember the way our window frames were winter-proofed with masking tape.

There used to be grass and bushes in front of our windows instead of that little parking lot. There’s plenty more parking space just outside this photo that also used to be green back then, when not many people in the building had cars.

The great thing about staying here (apart from being free of charge!) is that one of my closest childhood friends still lives in that building. So the kids can just walk across the street to hang out with their friends, with no need for me to drive them anywhere.

We ran into a couple of Adrian’s friends while catching Pokemons – all wearing the summer “uniform”.

Earlier this year, new benches turned up in the schoolyard at Spånga gymnasium (high school). We pass through that yard quite often because it’s the shortest way to a nearby Pokemon Go gym.

The schoolyard has gotten a facelift in general, but the mosaic benches are in a class of their own. They are works of art, and I am curious to know who the artist might be. I sent photos to a local newspaper and hope that they might have resources to find out more about the benches.

Just look at the way the angular turquoise and white pieces evoke shimmering water, and the iridescence of the cat’s eye – or the way the bottom of a broken plate or bowl becomes a knothole.

We went skating. Ingrid sped around effortlessly; Adrian had forgotten much of his skating skills and tottered around, holding on to my hand.

I’m a bit disappointed that the large bandy field is always booked by clubs and tournaments, and ordinary folks have to make do with the crowded small ice rink. But even that is quite a luxury, when I think about it – there aren’t many artificially frozen ice rinks in Stockholm, and we’re lucky to live so close to one.

Ingrid had a dentist’s checkup today. She had a cavity last time, and the time before, so she was really dreading this visit.

She brushes her teeth twice a day; she never drinks soda; she has a single sweet thing once a day after dinner. She’s just had bad luck with her teeth. Unfortunately I am pretty sure I know where she got her weak teeth from. Me. I’ve always had weak teeth, and cavities all the time despite taking good care of my teeth. My mum has even worse teeth, again despite taking very diligent care of them.

I think I finally beat the cavities with fluoride mouth wash, which I discovered about ten years ago. Since then I’ve hardly had any problems at all.

Ingrid was also advised to start using mouth wash, and it seems to be working for her as well. In any case, she had no cavities this time, which we were both very pleased about.

(She didn’t want me to take any photos of the dentist visit, so here she is walking across the schoolyard, back to her classes.)

Central Stockholm used to feel so familiar, but after years of working outside the city centre, I now feel like a tourist there.