Day 5
When you have a big thing coming up, like an exam or an event or the end of a project, and you put your all into it, and then afterwards you get sick, that’s where I’m at now. Those little stomach aches I was feeling were not because of the dairy, but some sort of virus. Tested for Covid, negative, but who knows? Thrown up twice, headache, body aches, other fun stuff. I actually really like the Antipodean term ‘spew’ because it’s clearly connected to the Swedish term ‘spy’, which means the same thing. Etymological excitement. Other Australianisms I have come to love, having a husband from there, include ‘duna’ and ‘oldmate’. The Swedish word ‘ork’ came up in conversation with my mum today. I said I had more ‘ork’ in my body today than yesterday, and this was quickly turned into a language lesson for my husband. He knows the verb ‘orka’ from before, meaning ‘to have the energy to do something’. ‘Ork’ is the noun. He thought of little orcs running around in our bodies, pushing us forward. My orcs have taken a beating, but are regrouping, and I’m better today than yesterday, but my plan to head straight to the tax agency to register first thing on Monday has clearly been foiled. I’ll be pleased if I make it in tomorrow (Wednesday). The best laid plans…
So not much going on. I get Swedish ads now. They’re mostly for the same things, skin creams, holidays, online gambling, all in this flattened middle-Swedish accent. No accents phase me in English. RP, American, London, Scottish, they all sound normal. Perhaps it’s the idea of trying to sell something in Sweden that’s so weird. Not that Swedes don’t by skin creams or go on holidays or gamble, but the market just seems so small — why bother? Or maybe it’s the idea that Sweden is some sort of socialist paradise, which I’ve picked up from a lot of people, and I always say that it’s not that, perhaps it was decades ago, but certainly not anymore. Maybe I’ve believed in it myself, despite knowing better.
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I was chatting to dad, and I said I hoped he and his wife wouldn’t get sick too, and the words that came out of my mouth were ‘holding my thumbs’, as one says when hoping for a good outcome in Sweden, but my fingers had other ideas, and I crossed them as one does in the same situation in England. Muscle memory. Crossing your fingers actually means you’re lying here.
I got an email from my British bank saying that I had to fill out some kind of form about taxation. I think it’s because I’ve changed my address with them. I haven’t looked at it properly yet. I’ll fill it out once HMRC knows where I am, which they don’t, yet. Not for my lack of trying to tell them, of course, but because the wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly. I’m actually really good at that stuff, and it’s still hard and absolutely baffling. No wonder so many people don’t manage it — it’s a whole skillset. I think about what a nightmare it’s going to be when I retire, if I ever can. Freelancer with multiple side jobs in two different countries, no, I’m probably better off working until I pop my clogs.
There’s a thermometer outside the window of my room. That’s not weird, it’s completely normal, most people here have one attached to their house or flat. Swedish people are obsessed with the temperature outside. They’ve zoned in on one aspect of the weather, where the English have gone broader. Why do I say ‘they’? Shouldn’t I say ‘we’?
