We hadn’t planned to do much today. The weather was inclement, and (I later found out it wasn’t the case) Wolves were playing W.B.A.

After lunch we stepped out into the rain and, umbrellas in hand, made our way to the local second-hand shop. On our departure Freya saw two worms in a puddle by the steps to the shop. We carefully took them from their watery grave and placed them in the nearby grass.

For most of the remaining journey home Freya was taken by any further worms we found making their way over the footpath, and we helped two or three more to relative safety. All in all, over ten worms were sighted.

During our worm safari we passed a lake. Freya spotted some ducks paddling on the shore opposite, and it was then I remembered the bread Freya had stuffed in her nut box the evening before. Birds, bread and child can only mean one thing, excluding a chicken burger at mCdONALD,S: feeding the birds.

A simple afternoon’s browsing led to a very enjoyable adventure in the park. It’s interesting how easy it is to forget how much pleasure is obtainable from the most simple of experiences. Something that our bank account appreciates.

N.B. The fear of worms is known as vermiphobia

Freya went to her first proper concert tonight, Linton Kwesi Johnson. Brilliantly (at least for the greater portion of the evening), it was on the terrace of a local nightclub, Mosebacke. This allowed Freya to be able to wander around before the show, explore various bushes and rock formations, and play with another girl who had come with her English/Swedish parents.

I say for the greater part because for about fifteen minutes, just before the band started, it absolutely tipped down with rain, causing the band, who quite rightly feared being electrocuted to death when the stage became flooded, to take respite from the sheer wall of precipitation.

The concert, when it resumed, was of high quality, and Linton’s personality and presence shone through his calmness.

I had occassion to visit the portaloo about halfway through the concert. The blanket of rain we’d experienced earlier was nothing compared to the marjiuana hit I recieved when I opened the door. I’m amazed the stench had managed to contain itself to such a small area and now I wonder if the open-air concert was more than just happenstance.

Sadly, the gig didn’t get any better audibly after my toilet visit; I should have stayed for a poo.

After last weekend’s shenanigans, we went to town once again today to see James Hollingworth. We were there in good time, and there were a lot more people sitting outside the nearby coffee shop, so expectations were high.

Despite the well-populated area, we failed to see the stage that was there last weekend (just before the beginning of the culture week), which, in light of our previous inability, heightened our suspiscions.

Of course, we had chosen the correct weekend to be here; we were just a day too late.

Freya must have some very strange ideas about James Hollingworth and his concerts. Next time he plays we shall make damn sure we have all the information before getting ourselves, and Freya, all worked up.