I really don’t like cycling in the rain. If I wear rain clothes, I get all sweaty; if I don’t, I get wet and cold. I don’t like either of those. On rainy days I take the train.

Several times this season, the weather app has forecast a rainy day, and I’ve taken the train, and then there’s barely been any rain at all, and I feel vaguely cheated. A cool, cloudy day without rain is pretty perfect for cycling.

Today was going to be another one of those days. To heck with it, I thought. I don’t want to regret my choice for a fourth time. I’ll take my chances with the weather, and cycle.

Weather forecasts are impressively detailed these days. Radar maps of precipitation in particular are great. I have a fair bit of flexibility in the afternoon I could leave work at any time between, like, three and six, depending on what the radar shows. Rain for the next 30 minutes, and then dry for an hour? Great, I’ll leave in 30 minutes.

In the morning I got to the office without a single drop of rain. In the afternoon I caught what must have been the edge of a rain shower – enough rain that I covered my backpack, but also so little that I was dry by the time I got home. Didn’t even need to hang my clothes up to dry.

One time is no time, as the Swedes (and Germans) say. But this was successful enough that I’ll try again the next time the forecast is iffy.

On the days when I go to the (an) office, I always feel slightly guilty about leaving Nysse on his own for a good 10 hours. Especially during the weeks when the kids aren’t here, either.

But he doesn’t seem bothered at all. Sometimes he goes out (he probably knows what it means when I pack my bag and head towards the door early in the morning); sometimes not. On the indoors days, I think he spends literally all his day sleeping. When I come home, he meets me in the entryway, stretching as if he’s just woken. He goes out, circles half the house to come back on the other side (probably for a quick pee) and then comes back in for his dinner.

Sometimes there’s some food still left in his bowl from his breakfast, so clearly he hasn’t been hungry enough to even go to the kitchen and check if there’s anything there.

Vaguely toying with the idea of making elderflower cordial. Went reconnoitring for elders. A bit too early, still: the tops of the bushes are in full bloom, but at the bottom, which is the part that you can actually reach for picking, they’re not all open yet. Maybe in another week or so. Or maybe I’ll just try to reach the ones that are slightly higher up so I can do it this weekend.

The main part of the red cardigan is all done – yoke, body, sleeves, neckline, bottom hem. Just missing the button bands. First it needs to be blocked, though, which I’ve done, just waiting for it to dry.

The angle of the yoke looks different from photos of cardigans with a similar construction, which makes me concerned that it won’t fit well. I’ll only be able to judge the fit properly when I can button it. It’s looked perfectly OK on me when I’ve tried it on and just held the front edges closed, and the maths and measurements all add up, so it should be OK. Still, I’m holding off with weaving in all the ends until I can confirm it for certain.

Left my home office for a short moment in the afternoon to start a load of laundry, and came back to find my seat occupied. Now what?

After some negotiation we agreed that he could keep the seat, but it didn’t need to be right in front of the desk.

A beautiful day, not too hot, perfect for walking. I’ve been longing for some seaside views, so I revisited Gålö.

Last time we did a 4.5 km circuit along Havtornsudd, a long, skinny spit of land at the very tip of Gålö. I wanted more walking than that today, so I did the Greater Gålö Circuit, which covers that shorter circuit and adds more to it.

Havtornsudd was by far the most interesting part of the walk. The rest was kind of just additional kilometres. Nothing wrong with it – but there also wasn’t anything in particular to recommend it. Forest, trees, path.

After a while I reached Gålö camping and the familiar paths around Havtornsudd.

The path goes all the way around the peninsula, hugging the shoreline, so there’s plenty of lovely views. Lots of open air, lovely little islets, boats passing by.

When the path goes slightly inland, you can mostly ignore it and scramble along the cliffs to still get the lovely views.

The tip of the peninsula is all high cliffs, with plenty of flattish bits for sitting down, for a perfect picnic with boat-watching. There were loads of boats passing by in all directions.

The way back was less scenic. On this side of the peninsula, the views were just of flat open water. For an optimal experience here, I think I’d skip the longer trail and just walk the Havtornsudd circuit, and do it counter-clockwise to get past the less exciting parts first.

After leaving Havtornsudd, the trail was much less well marked. Occasionally I lost it entirely when it branched, or became invisible on open rocky ground. There was no risk of getting lost, though – just follow the seashore.

Look at what I found!

For years now I’ve been on the lookout for small, pretty plates. For serving a tiny amuse-bouche for a New Year’s dinner, or a few biscuits, or a small piece of cheese. Our everyday green plates are both somewhat boring (although I am fond of them for general everyday use) and too large.

After this last Christmas, I searched with more focus. Googled, found nothing that I liked. Visited crafts fairs, found nothing that I liked. Looked up ceramics artists whom I’ve run into before; regularly checked the local charity shop; occasionally checked others; searched Tradera. Nothing. I was literally at the point where I was checking the cost of ceramics workshops for beginners to make my own. (Verdict: too expensive.)

And now I finally got lucky! Our local charity shop (now Skyddsvärnet, previously Erikshjälpen for many years, and I still misname them sometimes) is such a treasure. Among dozens and dozens of twee floral coffee sets and plain white plates, there were ten small saucers with a wonderful fiery glaze. I grabbed them all and now they’re mine!

Technically they’re saucers rather than plates but who cares. They’re perfect in all ways. Just the right size, about the size of my hand, and beautiful in their rich, warm colour.

They’re all from the same series but not from the same batch. Some have a logo on the bottom, others don’t, and the colour of the glaze isn’t quite identical. The internet tells me the series is called “Korall”. It was designed by Barbro Löfgren-Örtendahl and produced by Gefle porcelain factory 1962–1974.

Midsummer, with herring, new potatoes, and strawberry cake. No devilled eggs this year, since I’ve had quite enough of them with all the leftovers from Ingrid’s graduation party.

Strawberries are always kind of expensive this early in the summer, but the price this year was truly eye-watering. 90 kronor per litre in our local supermarket; 100 kr in Uppsala where my mum bought hers. That’s about 5 kr a bite. And I used to think that 50 kr a litre was expensive.

According to media, frost nights in May killed a lot of strawberry blossoms, and the cold weather after that delayed the harvest. There just aren’t enough strawberries.

Ingrid shared a Tiktok video joking about strawberry prices. 35 kr in 2015, 70 kr in 2025, and then 700 kr in 2030 with “we can set up a loan for you with automatic wage garnishment for the next three months to pay for these”.

Some neighbourhood cats walk around like princes, looking all prissy and fastidious. Nysse lounges around on, seemingly, the dustiest surfaces he can find, looking like a rag.

Adrian’s most recent project from crafts lessons at school – a wooden lamp. A really cool design, and very precisely executed.