Published: 3 Aug 09 12:08 CET
The Year in Sweden - August: Journalist Kim Loughran sketches a month by month account of the country he has called home ever since his accidental migration in 1966.
The moon is bloated but nights are now dark. Some warmth remains and in fortunate years, one evening will be chosen to spread outdoor trestle-tables with paper tablecloths, get out the paper lanterns and plot the crayfish party! Here, hearty indulgence in hard liquor is actually encouraged.
The kräftor (freshwater crustaceans, crayfish, mudbug, crawdad) are boiled, steeped in dill and brine, then sucked and devoured. Flimsy paper hats are put on and ditties are sung. The short, pithy drinking songs, unique to Sweden and Swedish-speaking Finland, are the nation’s living poetry: every year new songs crop up to be remembered and repeated at next year’s parties. The song canon tends to the farcical. And what a joy it is to witness one’s normally reserved acquaintances, now giggling and tipsy, shouting risqué doggerel.
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