I had a free afternoon and I used it to get myself clean.

My hike around the western end of Husarö a few days ago showed me that that part of the island was effectively deserted. So today I walked back to a nice little cove that I discovered then, got naked and washed myself clean.

And then had a nice long swim, still naked. That feeling of freedom was delicious. I haven’t done this in donkey’s years but it was so nice that I may have to find a nude beach next summer.

Wikipedia has an interesting article on the history of nude swimming, by the way.

In the evening I walked away from the camp again to get a self-portrait. Here I am, complete with puffy face (I get that when I’m outdoors and I don’t know why), a scout shirt, a spork in my breast pocket, and a mosquito on my temple.

I like mending clothes and other such things. There’s something deeply satisfying about it. It’s almost as good as making something from scratch, but with much lower effort, and it’s inherently un-wasteful.

Today, while the rest of the family are visiting Eric’s parents in the countryside, I spent half a day mending things: a hoodie, a pair of Adrian’ stretchy trousers, some tights, a pair of woollen liner gloves, and finally my autumn/winter outdoor trousers. Those last ones took a good two hours, because each leg needed two patches, and the fabric was both thick and slippery. But it felt so good to have finished them. And now they’re almost better than new!

I went out into the garden to take photos, but then I discovered that the gooseberry bush was all tangled up with its net. I’d left the net out over the winter, mostly out of laziness but also thinking that it wouldn’t make much of a difference whether I leave it on or take it off. It made a lot of difference: the new leaves and berries had in many places grown through the net, so they were on the wrong side of it. They were still just small enough that with a lot of fiddling I could mostly poke them back and detach the net from the bush.

Meanwhile Adrian borrowed my camera, and by the time I was done fiddling with the bush, the camera had run out of batteries. So here is a photo of me instead of photos by me.

I was more or less prepared for making do without a proper kitchen. What I wasn’t quite prepared for was how hard it would be to not have access to running water in or even near the temporary kitchen-in-dining-room.

There is a temporary wall blocking off the dining room from the construction site. Which, given the sawdust and peat dust and other kinds of dust in there, is a good thing. But it means that getting to the laundry room and the sink there is now a bit of a hassle.

In the old kitchen, I had the stove and the sink right next to my small work area. Sink on the left, stove on the right. Now the sink is not even in the same room. Or in the next one. Or even in the room beyond that: I have to pass through three doorways and around two corners to get to the sink.

I’ve started using the bathroom sink for some tasks, but it is small, and really only works for small stuff. I can rinse veggies and drain pasta or fill a small pot halfway with water, but no more than that.

I’m almost considering buying a stainless steel bucket so that I can have water at hand in the “kitchen”. But then I’d also need another bucket for dirty water, and someplace to put them, and it’s not really worth it.

Running water is a pretty darn good thing to have.

I haven’t taken any self-portraits in a long time, and not now either, but I like this photo that Ingrid took of me.

All of us like having our feet up when we sit in the sofa. Sometimes we curl up with our legs on the sofa, sometimes we put our feet on the sofa table. Very rarely does anyone sit on the sofa like polite people do, with our feet on the floor.

It just isn’t comfortable! Maybe there’s something physiological and evolutionary behind this, or maybe it’s just me, but I really don’t like sitting with my feet far below me. Even on my desk chair, I often find myself with both legs curled up on the chair in some shape.

It’s spring, for real. 18°C in the shade in the afternoon and warmer in the sun, and even the nights are above zero. Perfect cycling weather! Not too cold, not too hot. Even the ground is warm enough to walk barefoot in the garden.

I try to take a photo every day. But often I get so caught up in the day itself that I forget to take a step back and observe and document. I have this camera bracelet that I wear to remind me to take a photo. I don’t often consciously think of the bracelet, but I do notice that when I wear it, I’m more likely to take photos.

I wear my rings all the time, day and night. I only take them off for two things: (a) working out in the gym, to spare both the rings and my fingers, and (b) rolling veggie “meatballs”, like I did today, because it’s such gooey work.

When they rings are off, my ring finger feels naked. My left thumb goes looking for them and there’s a bit of a shock when they are not there. I sometimes fiddle with them without thinking about it, squeezing them between my thumb and the bottom of my little finger. It feels quite odd when those fingers meet emptiness.

I haven’t taken any self-portraits for at least a year. But this week I got (a) a new tripod mount for my camera, to replace the one that got stolen together with my previous camera in last year’s burglary, and (b) a new haircut, which is just like the old haircut but fresher, and this combination was simply begging to be used for a self-portrait.

A fresh haircut always feels so good. I love the clean, free feeling of having no hair touch my neck or ears.