Scandi-sympathies

Funny you should say that about Sweden, since my trip to Norway a couple of years ago I have been completely convinced that I must have Norwegian blood. Those Scandinavian types just seem to have it all oh, so right. As do you and I, so I think the argument really stops there. What more proof do you need, people? Although since I stopped bleaching my hair to oblivion I fear more persuasion might be called for.

In fact, a funny thing happened recently. I was in a bar with a charming and decidedly brunette friend when we were approached by three young bucks wanting to know if my friend was Swedish. As to whether or not they genuinely thought she was I could not comment but they evidently felt it was a good enough chat up line and that we would be impressed by it sufficiently to part with our phone numbers. Needless to say that did not occur and I dispatched the interlopers without so much as a by your leave. (One of them was Welsh and I made a cutting remark about the rugby, if you could credit it, or credit me with knowing about it, anyway.) But I thought it was quite an intriguing approach.

Anyhoo, back to business. Thank you for introducing me to Miss Horstedt, the clothes look delightful. But are probably kept for only the very best occassions, ikke? or ne? (Both are no in Norwegian. A country with two words for no? Get me a piece of that!) I particularly like the mammary rosettes!! Tee, hee!

As to our very own Miss Price, can I elect to have some voluntary amnesia regarding her existence in the world? Would that be possible? Oh, how kind!