seaside adventures & evenings in the kiosk

The weather was sunny and unusually mild on the day Thetis, in the most dramatic way, approached Sandön — one of the archipelago outposts farthest away in the Baltic sea — with sea-weed in her hair. Once ashore, she demanded to meet the local elementals. We spoke to the gnomes and the fairies, had lunch at the Sandhamn inn (she preferred fish — naturally!) and then went to the old familiar place, the ethereal kiosk, and ate cheese, drank wine, and talked and talked and talked. And talked some more. ‘I’m bored!’ cried mr Dog. ‘Give me snacks!’ Thetis, being a canineosophist who understands these things, had brought him delicious snacks in a water-tight container. All the way from England! Imagine that! Me she gave a book she wrote in a previous incarnation as Lucretius. (We’re grateful to Sune for bringing this important karmic connection to attention! We wonder if he really exists, though. Sune, not Lucretius.) Rudolf Steiner was present, of course; more handsome than ever. On one of the days we ventured out into the real world, in other words, we went to the biodynamic garden Rosendal. The food was splendid, the spiritual beings benevolent. We looked at art. We drank a lovely sparkling wine from the UK and ate more cheese, bread, nuts, and vegetables. We talked. Eventually, Thetis had to dive into the sea and swim back to England. And I’m tired now. I am, after all, a hermit. My brain is working slowly. I need to find the restart button before I can write anything intelligible.

32 thoughts on “seaside adventures & evenings in the kiosk

  1. It must have been lovley for you two to get together, sorry my chair in the kiosk was empty.

  2. yes! We talked about all of you. And Rudi handed round photos of himself at various stages of his youth, as we laughed at life under the large and glittering chandelier.

    I must say it was a great honour to meet my guru, Mr Dog, and to share his insights with my own Mrs Dogs on my return to England. It was unseasonably warm in Swedish waters, fortunately, and I was able to navigate with the help of my inymphone 4Sea.

    Alicia and I clearly resonate on the same bandwidth, in spite of our mutual hermitosity. It was delightful.

  3. (sometimes if you tap lightly on the comment it gets posted… annoying…)

    …he has been hoping to hear about the mrs Dogs being impressed by his charm. Even if they can only experience it on a distance.

  4. woof! to everything.

    You know, I don’t see people a lot. (Unlike Thetis, who may be a hermit but who can’t avoid seeing people. It’s what happens when you have a family. I could never cope. You would be obligated to see your family, of course. Other parents!?!? Other people’s children!? Children’s friends? Oh Dear Dog, I would be dead from exhaustion.) I mean, I see (observe) people, I do live in a city, after all, but I don’t interact with them. One can only say Thetis was brave to swim such a long way to see someone so lacking social talents. Not talking about mr Dog, he’s very social ;-) Of course, the ethereal kiosk is an eminently social place, even for hermits.

  5. In a city you can not interact with people quite easily. In the country not interacting can mean leaping into a hedge or climbing a tree, although the necessity for all of this can be moderated by persuading your dog not to chase other people’s chickens.

  6. it’s one reason I probably couldn’t live in the country, even if I wanted to. I tend to forget about it. Even if there are fewer people, you can’t avoid them.

    I do chat with my neighbours in the elevator, but they’re mostly elderly ladies, so it’s easy that way. They don’t come with a compulsory local community attached or anything that could possibly make me panic big time…

  7. oh, Dog, yes. I don’t know why, but I suddenly see the poor vicar in Keeping up Appearances. But there were mostly mad old ladies there, and still pretty scary. How could he cope!?

  8. he’s quite vague, the Vicar, as if seeing through you to the elementals dancing in the fields beyond. Belief in god is optional in the Church of England, or at least too embarrassing to discuss.

  9. So glad you two had such a good time, from your comments it’s almost as if some mind altering chemicals were ingested, or perhaps you were ascending naturally, with the help of Mr S in the kiosk?
    I do hope my snoring as a result of too much port (sparkling wine? How common) did not overly disturb your musings.

  10. I think it was a combination, actually. And Rudi has a certain gift for the higher worlds, even without the help of his cognac… but with it, oh, Dog! Well.

    Your snoring was like the breeze of the sea, you know the sound you hear when putting your ear to a sea-shell; it could not possibly disturb us! We were a bit surprised that you were able to sleep so deeply through all that racket going on though. But the kiosk is magic that way.

  11. I tickled your feet with an ostrich feather. But you barely stirred.

    It was organic, the wine. And it was pink. I had a whole team of naiades bringing it over. Some of the elementals (and the wine) went missing just outside Copenhagen, possibly due to mermaids.

  12. Oh, it was splendid, the sparkling wine! Absolutely splendid! Frankly, were I a danish mermaid, I’d try to nick it too. However, I don’t want to ponder what they did to the elementals. I suspect it wasn’t something chaste and proper. Not after imbibing that most bubblingly intoxicating wine.

    By the way, I’ve heard Sune has gone to Sandhamn. He’s looking for sea nymphs emerging from the sea. But, oh no, Sune, dear, you missed the opportunity! You should have been more attentive!

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