OK I keep

getting told off for not updating my blog, so here we go.

Been a while since I last posted.

The weather has taken a turn for the colder, this morning on my way to SFI, it was so cold that the asphalt around the bicycle parking area was slippery, not with icy patches, but just super cold asphalty iceyness. I nearly slipped twice. My bicycle was covered in frost and the brakes did even less than usual. I threw caution to the icy wind and headed off down the hill warming my brakes as I went and managed to get everything up to temperature except my ears, which in the end gave me a bit of a headache, hat tomorrow methinks.

SFI stands for Swedish For Immigrants. I started attending last monday. I passed my first test on friday with just 70% because I spelled a bunch of numbers wrong, mainly missing double Ts and missing Os off the end of the thirties forties fifties sixties etc, but who cares because I don't remember the last time I wrote a number with letters. Except for just then ^^^.

The lessons start at 08:15 which means I am out of bed, breakfasted and on my bike at 08:09. The clock in the classroom is 6 minutes slow which gives me a headstart too.

Lessons are over by 10:45 which is nice because ten minutes later after a gruelling uphill ride, I am back in the kitchen for coffee and toast by 11:00.

I have a new friend who I sit next to, he is a Luxemburger, called Christian, very nice chap, also moved with his girlfriend to this strange land. On the first day of lessons we had an interpreter called 'Tom, from Jersey, in the states' - 'what brings you guys to Sundsvall? Love? It's the only reason' he said as he shook our hands, he had a mullet.

He only comes in to interpret on special occasions now, the lessons are given entirely in Swedish. This can be a little irritating and frustrating at times and requires your COMPLETE ATTENTION.

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Did my first dj set at the local student clubhouse.

It went ok, I suppose. My brand of rowdy rap music djing doesn't go down that well.

I got lots of requests for HOUSE MUSIC, and even this one indian dude asked me to play something off his phone hahahahahaahahahaha. This was even more amusing considering the fact that the only people on the dance floor anyway were him and his 10 mates doing rowdy bangla indian bollywood hand twirly dancing, which was pretty hilarious. Especially considering I don't think they were even drinking, but they were dancing so energetically and seemed to be having more fun than I have seen anyone have in a nightclub in years. I should have just plugged his phone in anyway.

The dance floor got more crowded towards the end, and I played a few floor fillers and everyone was happy, quite a satisfying feeling really, and my co-dj Axel played some trance shit which got everyone going pretty potty by the end, especially when he was mixing in the lighting too, it got pretty out of hand. Whoever knew that a Russian trance remix of the Super Mario theme tune could be so popular. Only in Sweden.

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Hmm,

Went to a pretty darling little second hand shop in town the other day. Was wandering round looking at things blah blah, when all of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I spied a woman who looked like she worked there, carrying a single clarks wallabee. I looked towards where she had come from, and saw the other one on a shelf. I picked it up and examined it, it was pretty correct, black leather (not coffee), hardly worn. I threw it on the ground and tried it on, a perfect fit!

Damn, i said to myself, thats pretty correct.

I looked around for the woman. No sign.

So I went to the lady at the desk and showed her the shoe. I asked her where her mate was, the one with the shoe. She said that nobody like that worked at the store. I was like, OH GAHD.

The other JERBRONY woman was buying clothes for her JORBROENEY son, and wanted the other shoe to complete the pair, all like "I saw em first". I let them have it, and I didn't get angry and moan all the way home about how the dumb kid didn't even spot them himself, and that he didn't know how to appreciate shit, and that he probably didn't even like them or want them but was just being a little bitch. And I didn't moan for hours or threaten to write a blog entry about how unfair life can be.

Nevermind, wallabees are nice but not worth crying over, even if they were only going to cost £8.

I am going to bed now. More nonsense tomorrow.

Peas.