As hard as it was, I came back. Admittedly the desire to just turn around on the drive to Gothenburg, before security at the airport, as we walked to the plane, as we shopped Amsterdam airport, as we passed security at Amsterdam and even as we walked out of Manchester airport arrivals was really strong.

But I returned. (mini cheer)

Super grateful to Liz for accompanying me on what started as a normal out and back trip.

This is me. The day before we left I got a call to go to Copenhagen for an interview so instead we drove South from Gothenburg, ferry to Denmark, hotel for the evening and interview number 1, went out for a drink and ended up getting wasted with some Danish car salesmen (well, Liz did. Ever the practical she saw the need for my soberness at the interview the following morning and dutifully drank my beers). Had interviews 2 and 3 then mad pack at the hotel followed by a huge drive North, ferry then up to the house where...

We found we'd been burgled. Yay. This is the village in which we have left our front door wide open and gone out for the day and had nothing happen, a village where you leave your bike unchained at the bus stop and it's still there when you come back. And we got burgled. The police were very helpful, if not a little funny about the house being freezing.

Anyway, cue much wine, West Wing and stressing, followed by some DIY to fix the lock and window (all without power tools too). Add in some Christmas shopping (floral Wreath through customs anyone?) and we were stuffed with coffee, waffles and vaniljbrod. Yummy.

I'm stressing now again over the PhD interviews in Denmark. I e-mailed to thank the profs/researchers for seeing me, but now I have had three ideas for a PhD which might be useful to them. Perhaps I should e-mail the researcher who seemed really approachable and fun.

The best part of the whole week (apart from the travelling, Rob Lowe accidentally sleeping with a hooker and the wine being decent) was Liz walking into a petrol station on the way back and ordering- in perfect Swedish- two lattes and paying for them, before thanking the attendant and saying goodbye. Did I not teach her well? Admittedly she's still very confused by Scandinavian languages, but there is hope yet.. perhaps more for her than me.

Oh, and I graduate on the 18th December, wearing a purple and gold hood, and I start work on Monday.

Grammar and Keyboards

Okay, I'll admit I have had my follicularly challenged moments (blond, for those of you ignoring the PC terms) but in my defence I've never needed to get å, ä and ö on my keyboard. Anyway, at the tender age of 23 and through a little subtle investigative work I've done it.

Yay for me.

Onto the second point.

Stephen Fry can read a guide book to a language once and speak it fluently. I'm a firm believer in formulae. If something works, stick to it. Physics sorted it. Chemistry confused it. Biology used it and Maths proved it. Even language uses it.

If I know how the building blocks go together then I can put them together myself rather than learn set phrases which sound great but leave me stumped when I get a reply. I sat down and approached Swedish grammar like a formula and I think it's working. I'm learning vocab almost by accident and I vaguely understand why the Swedes have -en and -ett nouns and why these change to similar endings when pluralised... actually I really have no clue why that happens. The grammar book says it just does, and we have to just know it.

I'm going to Sweden this week to sort the house out for the winter, drink gallons of crap coffee and maybe do some DIY and hiking. Mostly though, I will get to shower in clean water and wear no make-up because nobody gives a damn.

If I don't come back I've either:

1. Found the only hot Swede in the rural areas (they all appear to be in Göteborg or Stockholm!)
   
2. Run away to join the circus
3. Died by messing up on driving solo abroad for the first time in a left-hand drive car

Puss och kram. x

Change in pace

I'm bouncing with glee, and more than a little trepidation. Who would have thought that I'd be shortlisted for a PhD at a top uni, eh?

Anyway, excited though I may be, there's still a small matter of two further interviews, liking the research topics and finding the funds to pay a month's rent and flights.

Yesterday I was contacted re: a temp job, not one I had applied for but money is good, right? Today they told me I may start tomorrow, it depends if they can free the finance director for long enough to sign off the contract for extra help. Ironic, non?

Today I received another call from a brand new agency wanting to chat to me about working for a Times Top 100 company. Ace. I might see them tomorrow, if I'm not temping.

Alongside this complete lack of success in finding a job I've been caught by Generation Kill. Now let's just put this in context: I'm a 23 year old female with no interest whatsoever in war films, documentaries or mockumentaries. I can fire a gun (thanks to a diligent and equal opportunities granddad) very well but have no desire to fire a gun anywhere near people.

I'm gripped. I kid you not. I am hungry for the next episode to see what these inhuman, deliquent, highly trained, emotional wrecks are going to do next. I desperately want Nate to come out okay. I want Brad to stop with the gratuitous shirt-shucking (okay, that was a lie!) and for Rudy to continue with his Starbucks-inspired fashionista parade through Iraq. The script is exciting. It's disturbing. But most of all, it gives a totally different look at the challenges faced by the individuals in the war.

Added to the news yesterday that five of our troops were shot whilst training the native police force by an undercover insurgent and I'm suddenly feeling more connected than I've ever been to a conflict. I have renewed respect for our boys out there. And I'm feeling horribly guilty about that because I'm a pacifist. A middle class, university educated, PhD-considering bleeding heart.

A gazilion and one

I feel like I've applied for a gazillion jobs. Seriously. You would not think that having reception, admin, call centre, retail and an advanced degree would make it so hard to find a job. My fingers are crossed in the hope that my loan payments will not fall into arrears, but my breath is not held.

In other news, I keep bumping into Scandinavians. First there were the Swedes on the train chattering away in a Southern accent, then the Norwegians in town (Liz, Cat etc should remember this) after the beer festival (great event, amazing atmosphere, fantastic ales) who requested a photo because we were English. Is it a sign, or just the football?

I'm understanding more Swedish now, forming my own sentences now I have a better idea of the grammar. I'm not great at recalling words but when I see or hear them I understand. Sadly my French isn't improving, mostly because I haven't been studying.