To Stockholm!

The cab arrived at 0715hrs and I was on my way to Gatwick airport's South Terminal to catch a 1015hrs flight to Stockholm (Norwegian Airlines). The weather was changeable: rain one minute, sunshine the next and always cloud, it's been this way for some time and when you consider it's now mid-June, it's not good, certainly not the summer I was expecting.

Arriving at Arlanda airport in Stockholm...

My weekend had been a bit fraught as mum took yet another fall and this time it was recommended that she go to hospital, something that proved to be a complete waste of time as paramedics have previously established that mum is in tip top condition, there was (they said) no advice they could offer her in terms of keeping herself fit and healthy. When I say it was a complete waste of time her going to A&E I can only say that I was right and she should have simply stayed at home and gone to bed. By not doing so, she was left in a corridor on a gurney, not hooked up to anything, and basically left there. She travelled by ambulance to hospital and I followed behind in the car, she got there some time after midnight and was left until gone 0200hrs before being given a blood test followed around 0300hrs by an ECG, none of which she needed and both tests proved there was (again) nothing wrong with her, except that being left in a corridor all night and not getting a good night's sleep did nothing for her wellbeing. I spent the entire night wandering back and forth through interminably long corridors. There were only vending machines available for sustenance and all they contained was junk: fizzy drinks and chocolate bars. In fact, the food offering at St. Helier Hospital in Carshalton, even during daylight hours was piss poor: a Subway for heaven's sake! A Costa was a little better but still, considering it's a hospital, the level of 'healthy' eating was very low. I managed to find a bottle of mineral water but that was it until around 0700hrs when the Costa opened and I could eat a healthy breakfast of granola (or something like it) with raspberry compote and natural yoghurt plus a cup of English Breakfast tea. Prior to that I could find nothing other than a faulty vending machine and the aforementioned machine containing fizzy drinks and chocolate bars.

My Norwegian Airlines flight at the gate at Arlanda

Furthermore, as I said, she was basically left on her own once those tests had been completed, and wait she did, until the morning when a doctor arrived and I had to explain exactly what had happened: a soft fall, they happen a lot, she's already been given a clean bill of health by paramedics and that was it.  I resolved to leave around 0830hrs and I probably hung around for a bit longer, I went to that Costa and then left and went home. I slept a bit during the day on Saturday, but it was a bit like arriving home from a transatlantic flight except that the rule about staying up until the night time of the country you're in didn't apply. In the end I simply lolled around, watched a Planet of the Apes movie, "Caesar is home," and then I hit the sack for real around 2130hrs and managed a full night's sleep before awaking around 0530 and having breakfast ahead of the cab arriving to take me to the airport. I was feeling fine, certainly rested, and the journey to the airport was uneventful. My driver was from Pakistan where, he informed me, it was current 48 degrees (that's hot). He still has brothers living there but has been in the UK a long time, working initially in security at a bar and, for the past decade, as a cab driver, which he enjoys because (as a lot of them say) he's his own boss and can work the hours he chooses.

View from room 3324, Hilton hotel

Getting through security was smooth-running, a quick squirt of some after shave and then it was time for breakfast at the magic Wonder Tree. I chose healthy options, granola with yoghurt and fruit, an English Breakfast tea and a couple of slices of brown toast. I know, all toast is brown, but mine was toasted brown bread with a couple of portion packs of butter. Then the usual waiting game. A visit to the washrooms and then to Gate 14. The flight was delayed due to some mishap or other but eventually we got away, through the cloud and off to Stockholm. It was a reasonable flight, a little bumpy on the climb out of Gatwick but otherwise fine. The weather in Sweden was better than in the UK and after checking in at the Hilton in Slussen we, that is me and my colleague Catherine, went for a stroll around town, stopping at Café Fatöljen (there's supposed to be an accent over the 'a' but I can't find it on my laptop) for, in my case, a cappuccino and a slice of apple pie, actually it was more a kind of apple crumble slice with vanilla cream, much needed. On the flight over a paper cup of tea and a chocolate bar was all I had and all I needed. Dinner later consisted of pasta and tomato sauce, surprisingly good considering we were in a sports bar with sticky laminated menus and a couple of large screen televisions which were showing England's opening game in Euro 24 against Serbia. I left the game at 1-0 and couldn't be bothered to watch any more. As I write this I still don't know the result as when I returned to my hotel I simply couldn't be bothered to watch it. I'm not a football fan and couldn't care less if we won or lost.

Prior to dinner, however, I did take a walk around Stockholm. Not so much a walk, perhaps, but a stroll in the sunshine and it was good. There was something inspiring, something positive, something evocative about the part of the city I wandered through. People were at peace, sitting on very comfortable and reclined park benches, children played, people wandered around enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon and while I was part of it, I realised that I needed something like this myself, a bit of peace and quiet and not thinking too hard about anything. I suppose all I really want is a holiday, a break, a change of scenery, a reboot close to the sea with nothing to do but read and chill out and enjoy just living rather than all the stress and bother that accompanies day-to-day life. In other words, I must book a holiday.

Inside room 3324, Stockholm Hilton, Slussen

I hit the sack around 2300hrs and awoke around 0500hrs, not bad, and now here I sit, at my desk in room 3324 which, I have to say, is fairly pleasant. I've got a week at a conference here, one that I developed, and it's full-on until the end of the week when I fly home. I like Stockholm and I like the Swedes. It's a great city, especially in the warm weather and everything, give or take, takes place in the hotel, even the gala dinner on Tuesday night.

Cappuccino and a slice of apple crumble and custard!

I'm still reading Sonic Life by Thurston Moore, a great book, and I'm hoping I'll get time to read more of it during my stay here in Stockholm. Right now it's time to hit the shower and prepare myself for the rest of the day. I'm thinking I might have dinner in the hotel tonight, but I'm not sure as I've spotted an Italian restaurant a short walk from here and that might be a better option.

Apple crumble with vanilla cream in the sunshine...

Night boat to Helsinki!, part one...

I can't contain my excitement! I used to reserve such joy for a long train journey, but now I'm about to embark upon a sea journey, from Stockholm to Helsinki, an overnight trip on the Silja Symphony. I can board the boat around 1530hrs, or so I'm told, and then we depart around 1645hrs. Our arrival time in Helsinki is 1030hrs and there's little much to do on board but sleep and eat (two of my favourite pastimes). Actually, sleeping is not a favourite pastime, I don't know why I said that as I often wake in the middle of the night and then spend hours trying to get back to sleep. Last night, for example, I awoke around 0100hrs, but that was because I hit the sack around 2130hrs. I got up, wandered around the room a bit then got back in to bed and somehow I awoke around six. I reckon I had around eight hours sleep in total. I took a shower and went down for breakfast, but it wasn't as relaxed as Tuesday's first meal of the day. I decided not to have the 'Full Swedish' of scrambled eggs, mushrooms and cherry tomatoes, settling instead for a bowl of cereal with seeds and raisins and yoghurt and a bowl of fruit (oranges, grapes, melon). Throw in a green tea and that was it; alright, on the way out I grabbed a mini croissant and a small biscuit, but that was it. I had to check out and as you might recall me saying in yesterday's post, I hate checking out of hotels. Still, there was little fuss, everything had been paid for, I hadn't used the minibar so it was plain sailing.

In the dock awaiting departure for Helsinki.

I took a cab to the other side of town, to the Hilton Hotel where I had some business to attend to and then I took a short stroll to a coffee shop close to the Birger Jarl hotel called Bröt & Bread where I ordered a cappuccino and a really tasty pastry filled with almond paste. Afterwards, I retrieved my suitcase from the hotel before boarding another taxi which would take me to my final meeting of the day. I got there early and tried to find a café that was open just to keep out of the cold. I found one opposite an ice rink and ordered a green tea and soon it was time for the meeting. Lunch followed in an excellent Thai restaurant and then, after saying my farewells, I took yet another taxi to the port at Hamnpirsvägen 10 where I have to await the Silja Symphony, my boat for the journey.

I've switched to a cabin with windows

Right now I'm sitting in a café, I've just ordered a vanilla tea (and bought a fridge magnet) and now it's a waiting game. There's not many people around, but having said that, I arrived around 1300hrs, actually, make that 1330hrs. Right now, at 1441hrs, there's more activity, but mine isn't the only boat waiting on the port side, there are boats to Turku and Tallinn too and who knows who is going where? All I know is that my boat doesn't start boarding until around 1500 to 1530hrs. There's a group of five people sitting close by, one is American and I'm not sure about the others. The American talks a lot about eagles. Two people, one being the American, sport black shirts and bald heads, they look virtually identical but they're not.  There are a few families, I can hear kids and everybody is wearing a bobble hat. Mind you, it is very cold and it's quite funny the way Swedish people cast aside preening and looking neat and tidy, bowing instead to the harshness of the cold weather (understandably) and wearing what looks like sleeping bags. Bivvy bags, bobble hats, trousers, you name it, the game is to keep warm at all costs.

I can't think of much else to say at this present time, except to say that they upgraded my cabin, which I didn't expect. Either way I don't get a window, but according to one of my colleagues, it'll be dark by the time I sail and I won't need one. 

This ship is absolutely huge!

I decided to take the ferry because I didn't fancy three flights in one trip. I'd already flown from London to Stockholm and I didn't fancy flying Stockholm to Helsinki and then Helsinki to London as that would have meant...well, I'm not sure what it would have meant; I suppose another hotel room in Stockholm or Helsinki. So I opted for the boat, which I reckon is cheaper, it's only £132...or something like that. So, as I say, here I am. I have my ticket, I have everything I need for the journey. I'm getting twitchy. I need to know whether there will be an announcement or whether we're all expected to just get up, go through the barriers and board the ship.

There's some kind of automatic machine scooting around the terminal building, probably a scrubber/dryer or some kind of cleaning device. I remember once (while a freelancer) having to write about scrubber dryers, oh, the glamour! I've just got up and checked and it is a scrubber/drier (see video). How fantastic! I know, little things, but it's not that little, it looks a bit like a Dalek. The machine is amusing others, namely the two bald-headed men wearing black shirts who earlier were talking about eagles. They've now visited the restrooms leaving a white-haired man with a white hoodie covered in stars chatting to one of the two women who share the table. I presume the other woman, ah...here she comes now, she's back, dressed in black (as she was before she left) and she has dyed black hair. She must have been in the restrooms.

Dancing girls greet passengers...

I'm going to take a wander, find out the lie of the land, see if there's going to be an announcement, find out what's 'beyond passport control' and generally get my bearings. I don't need any more to eat and I hear the catering on board is good. Talk again later...

Later...

So I found out that there would be an announcement and there was and now I'm on board, in my cabin and it's not brilliant. Very basic. It makes me wonder what the cabin I had before was like. I'm told that I can upgrade to a cabin with a window for just 20 Euros, I'm definitely doing that, but I can't do anything for another 25 minutes after the boat has departed. It's 1645hrs now so we should be leaving soon.

The ship in the dock as we embark on our journey...

I've taken a wander around and it's okay, there's a few gift shops and a number of restaurants and eating areas. Currently I'm in Fast Lane, a kind of cafeteria selling pastries and hot drinks. I bought a green tea and a couple of small bars of Fazer chocolate and I'm sitting in the corner blogging because you can only get wifi on level seven. On level 6 there's an Italian restaurant, but I've booked myself a table in Bon Vivant (I hate that name) for 1830hrs, it seemed like the most upmarket offering on board. Elsewhere on the ship there's a conference going on. There are various bars dotted around and the whole ship shouts excess, there's plenty of opportunity for Sweden's Dave Oafs to drink themselves senseless on board and then stagger off in the morning. I keep seeing people with trays of lagers and can only imagine how awful it could be. 

Noisy shaggers...

Outside of drinkers, of course, there are shaggers. I was quietly minding my own business in a public area on deck 11 when I heard the unmistakable porn movie shrieking of a woman behind one of the doors close to my own. She clearly had no sense of shame as she wailed on and on and on in true porn star manner. It was quite embarrassing if the truth be known. I know these boats have a reputation to keep up – that of 'party boat' – but the passengers could pipe it down a bit, there are English people on board! I'd imagine whoever she is, she's cast off her bivvy bag and Ugg boots, dispensed with her bobble hat and jumpers and, well, there's not much room in those cabins and I don't particularly want to imagine any more. For all I know she might be a right heifer, but it doesn't always follow and who said heifers can't have their fun? And who am I to start calling somebody I don't know and haven't seen a heifer? The odd thing was I walked past all the shops, spoke to the lady on the information desk about upgrading (not because of the shaggers, I just wanted a window with a sea view) and when I got back to the 11th floor and was making my way to the cabin to get my laptop, she was at it again. I'm now wondering whether there's anybody in there with her or if she's got a giant vibrating dildo wired up to the mains, possibly USB-chargeable, purchased, perhaps, from a Stockholm sex shop, not that I've seen any sex shops – and not that I was looking either. I've been far too busy to entertain anything so sleazy – not that I'd entertain anything sleazy if I wasn't busy – all I want is dinner, my book and then bed, preferably in a cabin with a window. God! I'm sounding really old and boring aren't I? A decent meal and a book, that's all I want, but it's true, who wants the faff of anything else? Well, clearly the woman behind one of the doors further up from mine. Briefly, I imagined knocking on her door and telling her to keep it down, but that was probably the last thing on her mind; and the last thing on my mind was having an altercation with a Viking gentleman, although I'm not on the Viking Line.

Boats going to Helsinki and to Tallinn (Estonia)

So it's just gone 1700hrs and as far as I can tell we're still at port. Normally when you're on a huge ship like this one you get the sound of engines revving up and notice a little bit of movement. Then it's time to wonder if you're likely to suffer from seasickness. I've travelled across the North Sea before (twice) and on both occasions I was fine, let's hope so today. Earlier, I passed a seafood restaurant and thought no, imagine a double whammy: seasickness AND food poisoning, firing on all cylinders with a soundtrack of shagging as the boat dips and dives its way to Helsinki, or Helsingfors as it's known to the Swedes. The very thought almost made me sick as I imagined all the soft toys – the seals, the meerkats and the bears – giving me strange looks as I disembarked with a green complexion, smelling of sick and wishing I was home.

A man next to me has started belching loudly, I won't even look at him, but there you have it.

New cabin...

I managed to upgrade to a cabin with a window and it only cost me 20 Euros, not bad. I'm on deck nine, no longer on deck 11, and while the dimensions and style of the cabin are roughly the same, there's a window and I can see out at the twinkling lights of Sweden on the shore line. In all honesty I didn't know the boat was moving. I was expecting to hear the roar of engines, but there was nothing and if I hadn't asked somebody I would still think we were in the dock. If it stays like this I'll be happy. I've got dinner booked for 1830hrs in Bon Vivant (arguably the best restaurant on the ship) and if everything goes to plan I'll be docking in Helsingfors (Helsinki) around 1030hrs tomorrow morning. I just hope I get a decent night's sleep.

I'm back in Fast Lane, but I'm not eating and nobody has asked me what I'm doing so I assume all is well with the world. There's 20 minutes to kill before it's time to eat and I know that there's nothing but shops on this level (level seven) and that elsewhere there are bars, a conference centre, a casino (I hate casinos) and probably that's it. Oh, there's a gym too and I'm sure there's loads of other facilities; this is, after all, a hotel on on the high seas full of people shagging and drinking and buying stuff they don't need. There are men nursing pints of beer, men and women drinking together, alcohol wherever I look and I'm the only one on a laptop writing. The Society of the Spectacle is here too, I've seen it, on the sixth floor, or deck six, everything exactly the same as the 'spectacle' found at airports all over the world. Once again, I'm never tempted.

To Stockholm...

Sometimes things go smoothly, and so far that has been the case, not that I want to tempt fate. I left the house just before 1000hrs and jumped aboard the 1009hrs train from Sanderstead. At East Croydon a Brighton train arrived within minutes and the first stop was my destination, Gatwick Airport. Despite being largely automated, there were no problems with checking in; it was even easy to change my seat to a window seat and deposit my bag on the conveyor.

Weak tea in Grain Store

I took a table in Grain Store, a café I have visited before, and I've just enjoyed scrambled eggs on toast plus more toast with a small jar of marmalade, it's just annoying that it's soda bread, which is hard and unforgiving and not very pleasant. Oh, and let's not forget a decaff tea, which was dreadful. It had no substance to it and, you might understand me when I say that I could see the hot water and not the tea, having poured in the milk. It's weak and tasteless and very pale, which is very odd considering the brand is Taylors, a reputable name in the world of tea drinking. I left it to brew for at least 15 minutes and look at the state of it (see pic on the right of this text).

I had the full two-hour airport experience, mainly because everything ran smoothly, even security, and so I sat at my table feeling pleased that I had well over an hour left to run before heading for the gate. I'm off to Stockholm and then Finland and then home again and there's a trip across the ocean involved too, and by that I mean I'm taking the night boat to Helsinki on Wednesday night.

I was tempted to go for a wander around the shops, but it's so depressing looking at things I really don't need like Go-Pro cameras, fancy headphones, expensive and unnecessary luggage or clothes that are far too expensive for my tastes or for what they are; I did have a brief look at the iphones and the Samsung phones and the Garmin watches, but I never left the store feeling as if I needed to buy one, not that I could afford it and besides who needs so much data? Nobody. The whole thing about measuring everything, how many steps, how many this, how many that, building up stats on everything, there's no need and there's no point. I do it enough with Strava.

Through the clouds!

At 1250 the gate was announced, gate 23, and I marched there, it was quite a yomp and I decided not to use the automated walkway. While the Norwegian flight was supposed to take off at 1300hrs, it didn't take off until nearer 1400hrs, but for some reason it didn't matter so I accepted the situation, which wasn't at all dire. I was sitting in seat 6F on the right hand side of the plane, there was nobody sitting next to me and a woman in a track suit sat in the aisle seat. We didn't talk to one another and I think she was in a trance for most of the flight. I saw her again at baggage reclaim but again she looked a little odd and besides we didn't know each other. Alright, she wasn't odd, just quiet, she probably hated flying, I don't know, there was a bit of Katherine Ryan about her.

The flight was perfect and it was turning in to the perfect day, everything seemed to be working fine: the trains, the planes, the automobiles, everything. There was some initial cloud when we left Gatwick, but then the rest of the flight was spent above a blanket of cotton wool cloud, and there was no turbulence. In short, I loved it. As we descended towards Arlanda airport, the frozen lakes of Southern Sweden showed themselves as we heard from the captain that we'd be on the ground in around 25 minutes. The cloud disappeared and soon we were on the ground heading towards passport control and baggage reclaim. I hate having to use the 'other passports' queue as I consider myself to be a European.

I needed to check out where the hotel was located and what was the best way of getting there so I stopped at the Café Ritazza beyond baggage reclaim – I've been there before – ordered an apple tea and a piece of carrot cake and called the Birger Jarl,  my hotel for the next two days. The woman on the front desk told me a cab would be around 700SEK and I really wasn't planning on spending so much money so I opted for the good old Arlanda Express which took me to Stockholm Central in around 18 minutes. It's like the Gatwick Express, but far, far better. It was dark outside so very little to see, so I just amused myself with my own thoughts and then, suddenly, we were there. I jumped a cab outside the station and was soon at the hotel.

Frozen lakes

The Birger Jarl was the first hotel, ever, to ask me what floor I fancied staying on. "How many are there?" I asked. "Seven." "Okay, put me on the seventh floor and so here I am in Room 709 on the seventh floor in a room with polka dot wallpaper and, oddly, no desk so I'm forced to recline on a kind of elongated chair which allows me to stretch out, put the laptop on my lap and write this blogpost. I've just had dinner downstairs in the restaurant. Chicken followed by chocolate mousse and washed down with a no-alcohol beer and a few glasses of water. It was a very pleasant dinner. I sat there reading my book, Eat, Sleep, Cycle by Anna Hughes, it's absolutely brilliant and I'm loving every chapter of it, make that every sentence.

On the dinner front, while it was okay, the portion sizes were a little on the small side and I wasn't able to put it on my room, presumably because the restaurant is a separate business and not really part of the hotel. But portion sizes aside, the evening was very pleasant and relaxing and just what the doctor ordered. To be honest, did I really want to come to bed feeling stuffed? No I didn't. Far better to eat reasonably light before hitting the sack.

The Arlanda Express at Stockholm Central 

For some reason I thought it was minus 13 outside, maybe because that's what it said on my hotel room's television set (flatscreen screwed to the wall). But it turns out to be just minus 4, which is good. I stood outside in what I thought was minus 13 and it wasn't that cold, but when I was told it was only minus 4, well, I thought yes, that's probably about right, and then took the lift to the top floor and my room, which is great. There are wood floors, a decent wardrobe, a fine bathroom and a flatscreen television, which I'll probably watch in a few minutes before hitting the sack. I was going to have a shower, but I'll leave that until the morning now. In fact, I'll probably pass on watching television, who needs the stimulation before trying to get some sleep? Not me.

Room 709, Birger Jarl, Stockholm

I'm here for two nights, which is great as I hate staying anywhere for just one, there's no point unpacking. It's nice to know that I don't have to up sticks in the morning, it means I have some kind of base, which I like. On Wednesday I take the night boat to Helsinki and suddenly I feel like a spy. I always feel like a spy when I travel abroad. Jason Bourne, somebody like that. Whenever I'm on a train in Europe, as I've probably said before, it's as if I'm in The Great Escape. Big X being questioned by the Germans and then being caught out by the Gestapo. "Bartlett!" And then that great scene as Richard Attenborough is running through the quiet streets of France. "Your German is good and also your French I hear. Your hands...up!" I'm just hoping that the bad guy from No Country for Old Men isn't milling around looking for a large sum of money, but fortunately I don't have it so my conscience is clear. 

It's gone 2200hrs and I'm just lolling here with the lap top on my lap. Being on the seventh floor there's not much traffic noise, which is good as I'm ready to hit the sack. I can get breakfast at 0630hrs in the morning, which is good as I like a decent hotel breakfast and it'll be good to see what the Birger Jarl has to offer. I'm expecting great things and I'm hoping they won't disappoint as breakfast is the most important meal of the day as we all know. I'm hoping it won't be minimalist (like tonight's dinner) although I was more than happy as I don't really want to over-eat. 

The Birger Jarl is a quirky hotel and it's kind of the icing on the cake for me as today has been rather special. I've had little cause to be upset with anything or anybody. Perhaps I will treat myself to some Swedish television, but only for a short while as I want to get a good night's sleep. In fact, sod the television, I'm going straight to bed and I can't wait.

To Stockholm...

I can't stand technology. Just give me a receipt, I don't want one emailed to me, Friendo! But that's what was on offer as I sat in a taxi outside of Gatwick's South Terminal about to embark upon a trip to Stockholm. All very annoying. But that said, I've done it now and I've walked through the Society of the Spectacle without even stopping for a free tester. I didn't even want to be sitting here in The Grain Store restaurant eating granola and sipping a mint tea – for some reason I wasn't hungry – but the alternative was sitting 'out there' with my lap top resting, appropriately I suppose, on my lap. Give me a table any day. 

I could have ordered a pastry or a 'breakfast bap' but in all honesty it's best that I don't. So I settled for granola, yoghurt and berries and, yes, a mint tea. Haven't had one of them for a long while and it feels good. Normally I'd order a cappuccino, but perhaps I've turned a corner on coffee, who knows? Perhaps I'm back to the delicate touch of mint tea. 

At this stage in the proceedings there's not much to say. The Grain Store has filled out. People going places, just like me.

Inside Dolce Vita, Stockholm...great restaurant

The weather's been good. Very good. Clear skies, so I'm hoping for a decent flight, although, sadly, I've got an aisle seat. Seat 13D if you please. I'll see if I can get a window, but what's the betting it will be a 'full flight'? It always is and I hate that. "Sorry, sir, it's a full flight," they'll say and I'll sit there for over two hours unable to benefit from the view outside the window. My favourite flight of all time in this respect was Miami to Monterrey in Mexico back in 2019. It was about three hours in a smallish plane, but it was great.

Room 241, Clarion Amarantem, Stockholm

The gate for my flight to Stockholm wasn't going to be called until 0910hrs so I moseyed around looking at all the consumer electronics and realising I neither need nor crave any of them, similarly the aftershave and definitely not the wines and spirits, which look a little gaudy and downmarket in the same way that bags of crisps and other potato-based snacks look cheap and nasty when I find myself in their aisle at the supermarket. As I sit here now, at my desk in room 241 of the Clarion Amaranten in Stockholm – yes I've jumped ahead in time, but only temporarily – I notice a bag of crisps and a small bottle of red wine in front of me. It's a bit of a con because, well, putting aside the fact that I gave up boozing nearly six years ago and haven't touched a drop since, I was being made to think the food and drink was complimentary and could, I realised, quite easily have turned the screw-top and 'enjoyed' a glass without noticing that it would cost me 240KR. As for the GARDCHIPS, RÄFFLADE HAVSSALT (I'm guessing ready salted), there's no price attached to them so perhaps they are free. I'm leaving them well alone. Back in the day, however, I would have enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine with a bag of crisps, even if the end result would be waking in the dead of night, heart racing and unable to get back to sleep. Apparently, it's common and nothing to be worried about, but oddly – or perhaps not oddly at all – since I gave up drinking it rarely happens.

View from room 241, Clarion Hotel

But let's go back to being at the South Terminal of London Gatwick Airport. I was wandering around, disinterested in what the Society of the Spectacle was pushing in front of me. I checked out the consumer electronics and couldn't really escape the gaudy bottles of spirits, but there was no way I was going to window shop in Superdry or any of the other clothes retailers. I simply wandered about feeling, it has to be said, slightly sorry for myself. Initially, it's always a wrench leaving home at the crack of dawn for a two-day trip or longer, so I called home and made small talk. Actually, let me qualify that a little bit, it's not always a wrench, there are many times when I look forward to a trip (and there are many) but sometimes it would be nice if I could be with my family. The flight was departing from Gate 10 so I made my way there while chatting on the phone. I was destined to sit in seat 13D and was getting that 'full flight' vibe from all the people queuing to board when I reached the gate. It turned out there were 80 vacant seats. I managed to bag myself an exit row aisle all to myself and with the weather outside the plane looking amazing I just knew the flight was going to be smooth and enjoyable: it was! I had an Earl Grey tea and a bottle of mineral water and read my book, Climbers by M John Harrison – a brilliant novel.

Once on the ground I stopped for lunch at the airport where I found a Caffé Ritazza and ordered a cheese and ham sandwich and a herbal tea of some sort that I couldn't quite identify. It didn't matter. Then I tried to find out where the hotel might be located and was told it was close to Stockholm Central Station so I jumped aboard the Arlanda Express and 18 minutes later I cabbed it to where I was staying, but only because of the cumbersome baggage I was hauling around, normally I try to walk it. When I got to room 241 I was pleased to note that I had some kind of apartment. The room had its own lounge area and two TVs, one in front of the bed, the other in the aforementioned lounge area in front of a huge sofa. I'd say it was good, but I had nobody to brag to as I was travelling alone on this trip. One thing about big rooms is that I never feel comfortable. I don't know about you, but if somebody told me to sleep in a huge grass field, I would choose a spot in the corner close to a hedge separating my field from the others. I wouldn't sleep anywhere else, like bang in the middle, as that would be too exposed. It's the same with big rooms. I found myself thanking God that the bed in my room was against the wall and not, like Victorian baths in some boutique hotels, stranded in the middle of the room. Had it been, I would have 'camped' in a corner somewhere.

A lonely table for one at Dolce Vita

I think tiredness makes me depressed – and let's not forget, I was up at 0530hrs this morning. As I walked along towards St Göran's Hospital with no particular plan in mind – I was just mooching – I found myself feeling a little pointless. I think it had a lot to do with the new buildings going up around a street called Franzengatan. New apartment blocks, a strong sense of renewal and an air of anticipation brought about by a sense of imminent switch-on, activation of the buildings and the surrounding area as a whole, it had yet to be plugged in, I thought, as I reached a kind of dead end and turned to retrace my steps. Somehow I didn't feel a part of things and it depressed me a little bit and I didn't know what to do or how to deal with it. There were no coffee shops to dive into, which would have diffused the situation a little as I could have ordered a cappuccino and resumed reading. Instead, I walked back to the hotel, hovered around in the room for a little while and then started thinking about dining (alone). There was always the hotel bar. The restaurant on the first floor was being refurbished, I was told, and the bar was serving food, but I thought I'd take a walk around in search of somewhere decent before admitting defeat and falling back on the hotel. Fortunately, I found Dolce Vita diagonally across from the hotel at Kungsholmsgatan 16. Red gingham table cloths, candles on every table, very cosy. You can't beat an Italian restaurant and I had a good feeling about this one. I perused the menu and eventually chose Bruchetta al Pomodoro to start followed by Salmone All Italiana. Sparkling mineral water and a coffee rounded off the meal and I forced myself not to have the Tiramisu (and felt great about resisting it!). I was the only person dining alone – I always am. I've dined alone in many an Italian restaurant: Da Bruno in Dusseldorf, Belini in Philadelphia, Bocconi in Brussels and countless others. In Dolce Vita, there were two other couples and a few people sitting outside under an awning enjoying the late summer heat. On my table, it was just me and my phone and I was left to my own thoughts of which there were many. 

Tasty starter at Dolce Vita

After paying the bill, I walked down to some water as the light of a great day began to fade and watched as a boat with a powerful, rumbling engine emerged like a gun ship from under the bridge I was standing on; it disappeared in to the distance a bit like that motorboat at the end of Tales of the Riverbank, a fantastic children's programme I used to watch as a kid, and I must say, re-watching the intro (especially the end bit when you see the motorboat carrying the hamster) almost brought a tear to my eye as I found myself thinking of mum, now 94, and how we used to sit and watch it together. If you want to see it, click here, and if you linger awhile at the end, you'll see another wonderful programme intro, Stingray. "Anything can happen in the next half hour!" I found myself looking at other YouTube videos including What's My Name, a track from the first Clash album which, in so many ways, summed up my state of mind when I reached the ripe old age of 19. I remember being 19 and going to the Nelson for a drink having bought an album by the Stranglers, the one with No More Heroes.

Time moves on, it's now 2123hrs and my hotel room is lit only by a desk lamp and a light in the vestibule. Now there's a strange word, 'vestibule'. It's one of those words, like 'gable' and 'buttress' that I've never really understood. In fact, I recently keyed them into Google Images to get a definitive meaning. Strange, isn't it, that you go through life not really understanding everything in front of you and not really needing to either until one day, curiosity finally catches up with you and like everything else, you wonder what the fuss was all about. Another word I have trouble with is 'cantilever'. I know, it's stupid, but this is me, it's the way I am, and if somebody said to me, 'what is a cantilever', I'd have trouble providing them with a clear verbal explanation...better check out Google Images, which I have done and I'm still none the wiser.

Main course at Dolce Vita...

There are loads of things I'd have trouble describing to somebody verbally and all the words I've mentioned above are in that ballpark and in all honesty it's not something worth worrying about. I know what my dad would say if he was reading this, he'd say something along the lines of 'you're not unique' – he said that a lot to me growing up and it helped, suddenly realising that there were always other people in the same boat and that whatever was bugging me, it was not something I was dealing with alone. It's always worth remembering: you're not unique, although, of course, in so many ways we're ALL unique, but dad was talking about day-to-day ailments and run-of-the-mill observations that everybody experiences, or thoughts we all have but often think, perhaps, that we're alone in our thinking. The reality is that whatever is on your mind, you can bet that many other people think the same way and in that sense, you're not unique. And how heartening it is when you mention something or other and somebody else says, 'I know what you mean, I feel like that too' or 'that's what I think'. I still find it pleasing when somebody says that to me as it's good to know that I'm not alone and I think that's what it's all about, not being alone, be it physically or mentally. This is all getting a little bit heavy.

Tales from the Riverbank. Stockholm at dusk.

Anyway, I suppose I ought to be thinking about chilling out and watching something on the television or even hitting the sack. I've got to be up with the lark tomorrow. I thought for a minute I'd be missing breakfast but no, breakfast will be served on a coach and you can't get much better than that, can you? Well, alright, breakfast downstairs in the restaurant would have been quite nice, but on a coach? It's an experience for sure*.

* As it turned out it wasn't so great. A paper bag carrying a small plastic bottle of orange juice, a filled croissant and a bowl of cereal none of us would eat because there was no spoon. It didn't matter, I eat too much anyway. In many ways it was a shame as most of those breakfast bags went to waste. I remember they were still on the coach when we embarked upon the return journey to Stockholm.

Leaving Helsinki for Stockholm...

I thought about walking from Helsinki's central station to the hotel using my iphone's SatNav, but I didn't get very far and decided instead to go against the grain of my own thinking and jump into a taxi. We got stuck in a small jam but soon I found myself checking in to the Scandic Paasi and making my way to room 602 which was at the end of a corridor on the 6th floor and oddly in the same position (albeit in a different hotel) as the room in which I stayed the last time I was here, back in February 2020 and also in a Scandic property. In Finland all the doors open outwards (it's a fire precaution). I've probably mentioned that before too. I think it might be the same in Sweden too and, therefore, I'm guessing it's the same in Norway, who knows? Next time I find myself in Oslo I'll know for sure. The room was pleasant and after dinner I sat and watched an episode of Top Gear, the one when they go to Australia to herd cows using their cars. Mildly amusing and enjoyable to watch and I'm now looking forward to the next Grand Tour on September 16th on Prime. The following day was relatively free. Well, the morning was relatively free. I had to be on a flight to Stockholm at 1425hrs which, miraculously, would get me into the Swedish capital at exactly the same time so I amused myself by going to the gym and getting some much-needed exercise. I jumped on an exercise bike, set it for 60 minutes on a high setting (17 out of 20) and then sweated my way through what was quite a work-out. By the time I got off the bike and wiped it down I was in need of wiping myself down. The tee-shirt I had been wearing was wet through with sweat and I'm sure those in the lift moments later were looking at me in disgust as, to be fair, I must have been whiffing somewhat. But not for long. Once back in room 602 I took a shower and then packed up ready to leave the hotel. There was a metro station virtually next door and I rode the train for two stops to the central station and then took the sky train (was that it's name?) to the airport where I found everything very simple and easy. Why? Because there was nobody around. Remember that Finland only has a population of 5.5 million and they have a bigger land mass than the UK (where the population approaches 70 million). So there was nobody around and it was fantastic. I checked in my bags immediately, security was a doddle and soon I found myself in an empty airport wandering towards gate 36a to catch my short flight to Stockholm. I was amazed at the lack of people, it was fantastic and yes, before you ask, I could live in Finland. The stark contrast between Finland and the UK was all around me. There's probably no better way of illustrating the lack of people than showing you a few photographs (you can see some in the previous post, but here's some more).

I could get used to this. Helsinki airport is like a ghost town.

 

Empty, no people, lovely!

Where is everybody?

Hardly anybody around at Helsinki airport

Helsinki airport is empty, nobody around, brilliant!

This is what I like, hardly any people...

Nobody around...

Nobody around at Helsinki airport

But things changed when I reached Stockholm. The flight was pleasant and virtually empty and after touching down I made my way to baggage reclaim where I encountered people. Oh no! Not people! It was the last thing I needed, crowds of travellers, but I was one too so I couldn't really complain. There were sniffer dogs at customs and once through the other side I made my way to the railway station to take the Arlanda Express into the city and to my hotel the Scandic Malmen, which in my opinion wasn't as good as the Scandic Paasi in Helsinki. There was a big reception area and I vaguely remember not staying here but coming to the lobby on a previous visit to Stockholm when I was staying in the Nofo hotel. At the time I remember thinking that it would be a good hotel to book should I ever find myself back in the Swedish capital. Well, there I was, in the Scandic Malmen about to check in to room 702; actually, I can't remember the exact number, which is just as well as the room stank to high heaven because there was a drainage issue, and I couldn't stay there, the whiff was too much, so I bowled down to reception with a view to finding another hotel if I had to; the man on the front desk, who resembled Rutger Hauer's replicant in Blade Runner, looked for another room and initially said he didn't have one, but eventually I was given room 341 on the third floor which, compared with the room on the seventh floor, was tiny and had a very cramped bathroom. Not brilliant it has to be said and because of 'the environment' they weren't going to be cleaning my room daily, which meant I'd return later to an unmade bed, nothing more depressing than an unmade bed. The last time a hotel said it wasn't going to be cleaning my room was in Pittsburgh in May at the Hilton Garden on Forbes Avenue. I spent a week in that hotel and whenever I returned to my room there was my unmade bed competing with Tracey Emin's work of art. I suppose I could have made the bed myself, but that would have been missing the point. During my stay in the Pittsburgh Hilton Garden I ended up with a foot infection that later needed two weeks of treatment with antibiotics, and bearing in mind that the only place my feet were exposed to the outside world was in the hotel room, I'm guessing that's where I picked it up. Anyway, fortunately I picked nothing up in room 341. 

I was in Sweden for two days conducting interviews and meetings. Prior to the first one, which was on the other side of town to the Malmen, I found an amazing little bakery. I'd been up at the crack of dawn, had a quick breakfast in the hotel and then took the metro to Hotorget from where I walked the rest of the way. It was fairly easy using the iphone's SatNav and I reached the bakery at 0730hrs. My meeting was scheduled for 0900hrs so I settled in with a couple of bakery items and two cappuccinos. It was Wednesday, half way through the week, and I'd resigned myself to not getting much in the way of exercise. But I suppose the two bakery items were a bit excessive... and the two cappuccinos. After the interview I walked back across the city. I didn't do too badly until the very end of the journey when the SatNav confused me again and I think I probably walked around in circles a few times before finally finding my hotel. Half way back I stopped for lunch and sat outside in the sunshine. It was hard to believe I was in Sweden as I could easily have been in Italy or the South of France. I ordered salmon with asparagus and skin-on potatoes, plus a Carlsberg (no alcohol beer). It was pleasant and prepared me for the rest of the journey back to the Malmen. I had one more interview to do. I got back to my hotel around 1430 hrs and went straight to my second appointment which was around a 20-minute walk away. The person I was interviewing had joined me for dinner the night before and we had sat outside in the warm evening air chatting about this and that. All very pleasant. But now it was over and we'd said farewell and it was early evening and I had time to kill. I wandered up a few streets as the light faded and found an Italian restaurant where I ordered a pizza and salad with another alcohol-free beer (make that two) and then I wandered back to the hotel knowing that tomorrow I'd be flying back to the UK – what an awful thought. Back to Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak and all the shite I left behind earlier in the week. I wasn't looking forward to landing on UK soil and I wasn't looking forward to the flight either, with British Airways as opposed to Finnair. It was as if a little bit of the UK had flown over to Sweden to pick me up and return me to the shite of the cuntry. Yes, I'm back to taking the 'o' out of country, it's that bad, in fact it's much worse than it was the last time I bastardized the word. Still, back I must go, but I had a few hours to go and most of it, of course, would be spent sleeping. I switched off the lights, drew back the curtains and lay on the bed thinking bad thoughts.

In the morning I discovered there was a gym in the hotel but it was too late to start building up a sweat. Instead I decided to enjoy breakfast and managed to eat a handful of small cookies on top of my original healthy muesli-based breakfast and then there was a rather nice cinnamon pastry slice that I enjoyed immensely. But I'd also started fretting about what I was eating and how much exercise I'd be doing on my return to Shitsville. After breakfast I nipped out and found a cafe where I bought a blueberry pastry and a cappuccino. I later considered another coffee and another pastry before resigning myself to the fact that I needed to get to the airport. I went back to the Malmen where I had left my suitcase in a room in the basement and then rolled down the street towards the metro and the start of my journey home. Here's some more images...

The Arlanda Express into Stockholm city centre...

People! At Stockholm's baggage reclaim area.

Lobby of the Scandic Malmen in the early hours.

View from room 341, Scandic Malmen

Beers with my pizza meal.

Coffee and a pastry before an important interview.

I bought these in the early hours...

The British Airways flight to London Shitsville.

The hours passed by and soon it was time to board the UK flight. It was, of course, a full flight, as I might have said already, and I had the misfortune of sitting in the middle seat, which wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but I was still annoyed about the middle seat and about going home. I was now sitting in a little slice of England which was going to take me home and dock with the mother ship. I ordered coffee and a KitKat and then just sat there occasionally looking out of the window to assess whether there was going to be any turbulence. There wasn't any, the flight was perfect. I sat next to a woman who was knitting a small octopus for a charity supporting mothers who suffer premature births. We landed safely and because I hadn't booked a return cab I jumped aboard the Heathrow Express into Paddington, took the Bakerloo to Oxford Circus, the Victoria Line to Victoria and then a direct train home.

Last day in Stockholm...

I awoke this morning and immediately found myself thinking about the shower in my hotel room's bathroom and how I was going to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to set it right and get some hot water. It's not something I particularly relish; I don't want to be fretting about something so minor, but that's the way it is. There was some faffing about, I knew there would be, but somehow I managed to get the water hotter than yesterday, although there was a risk that it would get dangerously hot so I did what I had to do and got the hell out.

Cramped bathroom in NOFO's room 315...

Drying in such a small room is nigh on impossible. In terms of swinging cats, which people always discuss when a small space is involved, it wouldn't be possible, so you can imagine how problematic it was to dry myself down. It became a two-location process: first, a general dusting down while in the bathroom and then finish the job out in the room, although even then there are issues.

The word 'faff' is a good one as it explains so much about NOFO. It's a nice hotel, but there's an element of faff about it. First, the faff of the cold water coming from the shower, then the faff about the teabags. You may recall that yesterday I was baffled by the napkin-like pieces of paper that were supposed to be teabags, well, they ARE teabags, I discovered today. In essence, the hotel expects its guests to make their own teabags. What I thought were napkins were, in fact, open teabags. All you have to do is spoon your chosen tea into the bag and then leave in resting in the cup until the tea is infused in the bag. Fine, but why oh why be put to all that trouble when a simple teabag would do? That said, this morning, out of principle, I did have a go and it was fine. I enjoyed a mug of English Breakfast tea after initially giving up and going for the safe option of coffee.

Breakfast, by and large, was the same as yesterday: muesli, fresh melon, coffee, a few biscuits but no rice cakes. They were there, I just didn't fancy them.

Locally brewed beer at Bistroteket...

Check-out is at noon, but I've got to be at the airport by then so I'll have to get a move-on. Last night I enjoyed a really good meal at a place called Bistroteket (Bondegatan 54, 116 33 Stockholm). I'd been scouting around the area for somewhere to eat and eventually decided that I'd give Bistroteket a go, even though, initially, I thought I'd made a big mistake. I hadn't. There was no English menu available so the waiter explained what was on offer and I chose cold meats (charcuterie) with salad to start followed by salmon steak with asparagus and a couple of locally brewed beers from Stockholm, not forgetting a cappuccino.

The restaurant's clientele was mixed, old and young and the place had a kind of French vibe about it. There was low-hanging lighting, marble sills and table tops, black and white floor tiles and a retro bar area. There were single candles on each table and there was music too. Afterwards I found my way to Bistro Boheme for a last beer before bed and then, after a fairly good night's sleep I got up, faffed around in the bathroom and then went for breakfast.

I'm going to repeat my outward journey of Monday in a minute. In fact, I did a dummy run after breakfast and realised that Stockholm South railway station is only 10 minutes' walk from the NOFO Hotel, just a straight road. On the way back I bought some Lipton's teabags in a Co-op close to the railway station and now, here I am, back on the blog with just minutes to spare before I need to be on my way.

Salmon with aspargus at Bistroteket... nice!

While there are a few white clouds out there and a light breeze, it is still a pleasant day. I need to be at the airport by noon and shortly I'll be taking the train to Marsta and getting the 583 bus to the airport where the plan is to catch the 1410hrs Norwegian flight back to Gatwick Airport and from there a taxi home, or the train, whatever appeals to me at the time. There's little much else to say, other than Stockholm is a nice place and I hope I'll be back soon.

All that remains now is to pack my bags – or rather continue the packing process that started prior to my earlier walk – and then check out. I don't like checking out of hotels, but then I don't like checking in either. Either way it's got to be done so I'll bid you all farewell and see you next time.

Oh well, back to Theresa May and Brexit and all the usual politics bollocks I've come to expect from the UK.

For my Trip Advisor hotel and restaurant reviews, click here.

In Stockholm...

I can't remember the last time I was in Stockholm, but I think it was longer ago than I think. I almost stopped off here on the way to Lulea recently, possibly towards the end of last year, but a pilots' strike by SAS, Sweden's 'national carrier', halted my progress from the UK at Copenhagen and I flew home. But prior to that attempt I have the sneaky suspicion that I last visited the Swedish capital in the last century.

I flew out of London Gatwick Airport this afternoon, around 1330hrs, on a Norwegian 737 (seat 11a) and after a smooth flight, during which I enjoyed a spicy, hot chicken tikka masala and a couple of glasses of red wine, not forgetting some cashew nuts (I hadn't eaten since breakfast) I settled down for what turned out to be a smooth ride into Stockholm.

Stockholm South station, now just a shortish walk in the heat

Once on the ground and through baggage reclaim, passport control and everything else, I bought a train ticket to Stockholm South, which is close to where I was staying. At the airport (Arlanda) I had two options: take a train from Uppsala C or take a bus, the 583, to Marsta railway station, a short bus ride away, where the fare to Stockholm South would be much, much cheaper. For a moment I wavered (I was on expenses so why bother saving the money?) but then I thought why not? There was a big difference in the price. At Uppsala it was something like 150 Swedish Krona whereas at Marsta it was only 43 Swedish Krona. I took the bus and there was a train in the station when it arrived.

The journey to Stockholm South was long, probably around 30 - 40 minutes, but the sun was shining the skies were blue and the weather was the same as it's been in the UK this past week – hot and sunny. When I arrived at my destination, I asked one person for general directions to a region of Stockholm known as Sodermalm and then followed my instincts, which turned out fine. Soon I found myself at the NOFO hotel and was I glad that my sense of direction had been so on the money.

NOFO Hotel, Stockholm

I'm also glad that I picked such a quirky hotel. The NOFO is a strange place; it used to be a brewery and then the Columbus Hotel for the best part of 40 years, but now it's the NOFO and while I was told what the name means, I can't remember, or rather the explanation was a little confusing so I gave up trying to understand.

Södermalm is described as the 'vibrant heart of the city' and the NOFO Hotel is said to be 'steeped in the history of Söder. It was built in 1783 and has served as a brewery and as a barracks for the city guard. Today, Söder is claimed to be one of the world's most stylish city districts. "You will love the enchanting mix of people, bars, shopping, restaurants and culture," says the NOFO's general manager, Desiré Eklund. She's right, it's a very pleasant part of Stockholm and yes, I could live here!

NOFO is both a hotel and a wine bar set in its own quiet courtyard. It's dark and welcoming interior and it's friendly receptionist made the whole experience very warming and I was glad I was here for the next two days as there seemed to be a lot of depth about the place and I was eager to enjoy it to the full.

I would have stayed in for dinner, but I got the feeling that the offering was fairly light when what I needed (as always) was a substantial meal. The receptionist offered some suggestions and I set off in search of a restaurant. Only a short walk from the hotel, down Sodermannagaten and then hanging a left on Skanegatan (I'm leaving off crucial accents on some these place names purely because I don't know how to find them on the keyboard) I found a small green, which, according to the map provided by the hotel, was called Nytoget. There were restaurants close to the green, two of which the hotel had recommended, but I chose a place called Bistro Boheme (Skanegatan 83, 116-35 Stockholm). It was hot enough, even around 2000hrs, to sit outside, so I ordered a Czech beer (a dark beer) along with grilled tuna steak (tonfisk) and salad and a Californian Pinot Noir – all good – followed by a Creme Catalana, the Boheme's take on a Creme Brulée. A cappuccino rounded off the meal and I made my way back to the hotel, trying to remember the route I had taken.

Tuna steaks with vegetables and salad at Bistro Boheme...

I'm now back in Room 315 and to say it's small would be an understatement; but despite its cell-like proportions, I rather like it. In fact, I've always been a fan of small rooms (as opposed to huge ones) and I like the Velux window, which means I can see out, but people can't see in – just how I like it, although the view is limited,  just trees and sky, but I'm not complaining. The bathroom is a little compact too, but it's all good and I should really be hitting the sack and getting a good night's sleep as it's now almost 2230hrs here in Stockholm (an hour earlier in the UK).

I stayed up and watched the first Mad Max movie on Netflix, hitting the pillow around midnight. During the night it rained heavily, hitting that Velux window with such force it awakened me on a couple of occasions. While a Velux is fairly quirky there are a couple of downsides: first, heavy rain hitting the glass surface makes a real din; and second, while there is a blind, I left it half-concealing the window and so I was awoken early by the brightness of a summer morning. In all honesty, I like traditional curtains that can be drawn and a more pleasing view than just trees and sky.

Cinnamon cremé brulée

It's 0618hrs the morning after the night I arrived (it's Tuesday) as I write this and a day of work beckons, although I'm a little concerned about the state of my clothes. I've brought two shirts with me, but they've both seen better days and I need to buy some new ones. Likewise my suit, which is now hanging from a coathanger on the wall (there's no wardrobe, just four coat hooks mounted on wood and screwed to the wall). The walls are white and the floors laminated wood. The bathroom floor and the tiny entrance lobby to the room – I suppose in some perverse way you could say I was staying in a very small one-bedroomed apartment – are tiled.

There is a small desk, a wall-mounted flatscreen television, an angle-poise lamp like the one in Toy Story movies (or all Pixar movies) and what is made to look like a make-shift lamp fixed to the wall with a flex hanging down and plugged into the wall, as if a temporary measure. I suppose that alone bestows 'boutique hotel' status on the NOFO. A single bed is crammed into the corner, there's a fire detector on the ceiling and two shelves by the entrance where 'tea and coffee-making facilities' reside on a tray next to a hairdryer. I don't think I've ever used a hotel hairdryer. There's no sign of an iron, but under the shelves a large shoe horn hangs from a smaller arrangement of hooks screwed to the wall. I don't think I've ever had occasion to use a shoe horn either. Three magazines rest on a shelf underneath the desk but they're all written in Swedish so all I can do is look at the pictures. There are four decorative cushions under the Velux window resting on what looks like a huge block of concrete, which has been painted white; I'm using it to spread out my 'stuff' like my mobile phone, travel adaptors, last night's dinner receipt, my glasses case, wallet, maps and yesterday's newspapers (picked up free at Gatwick).

View from Room 315, NOFO Hotel, Stockholm

The weather has changed. The blue skies and sunshine have been replaced by grey skies and blustery wind, more like the weather should be in these parts. I remember coming here when it was minus 26 degrees and then I flew north to Lulea where temperatures plummeted to minus 40 and there were lakes frozen over – so much so that cars could be driven across them, the ice being something like three feet thick.

Going back to my hotel room's compact bathroom, it is a so-called 'wet room', which basically means the sink, the toilet and the shower are in the same room, with the latter only separated by a shower curtain. For some reason, there is a window cleaner's squeegy lying on the floor and I can only assume it's there to wipe the mirror clean when the hot shower steams it up; except that the water is cold, lukewarm at best, and it took me an age to work out how to get it lukewarm, by a process of trial and error. In the end it was just about bearable and I managed to wash and shave while in the shower. I turned the tap on the sink this way and that to see if there was any sign of hot water, but no, there wasn't; and in my book a hotel without hot water – or a hotel where getting the hot water to work is a serious faff – is not worthy of a return visit. I don't need the aggravation, although I kind of like NOFO so before I decide not to make a return visit, there's always tomorrow's shower – it might work!

Room 315, NOFO Hotel, Stockholm

It's 0730hrs and I'm ready for breakfast... and now, at 0815hrs I'm back and can report that breakfast was fine. I enjoyed cereal (muesli with raisins), some rice cakes and some fresh melon plus a cup of strong, black coffee. Why not tea, you might ask. Well, in all honesty it was a little confusing. They had two huge containers of coffee (with depressable levers to dispense it) and one containing hot water, presumably for tea. Next to the hot water was leaf tea in glass containers, but nothing remotely like a teapot in which to place the tea prior to dispensing the hot water. There was also a small glass jar containing 'tea bags' but on closer inspection these appeared to be paper napkins (I couldn't see any tea inside them) so rather than engage in more faffing around (the shower had already proved a bridge too far) I opted for black coffee and enjoyed my breakfast watching a muted BBC World News – Brexit talks and the passing away of Otto Warmbier after returning to the US from North Korea featured.

And now at 1648hrs, the blue sky and sunshine back in place and the tree outside my Velux window swaying slightly in the breeze, I'm back in my room. The bed has been made, as I expected it to be, but all else is quiet. I keep thinking about going downstairs for a glass of wine, sitting in the courtyard and relaxing with the newspaper, but there's work to be done and by the time I've finished it, it will be dinner time and then, tomorrow, I fly home. It's whether to go back to Bistro Boheme or try somewhere different, but I'll make that decision later, after I've completed my work.

For my Trip Advisor hotel and restaurant reviews, click here.

At least the cushions aren't on the bed!