Månad: mars 2017

I read an interesting yet rather disquieting article the other day written by a number of research scientists arguing that ageing should be classified as an illness. The idea being that this would release more resources in the fight against one of the major causes of illness which, perhaps not surprisingly for most of us, is old age. Ok, I can understand the financial argument as well as the natural link between age and illness. Defining ageing as an illness however raises a number of questions. I am 70 years old and in those years have had my share of infections and aches and pains, though thankfully nothing serious. A health expert once told me, ”you are as healthy as you feel” meaning that health is as much a matter of the mind as of the body which is something worth remembering with regard to age and illness. Now these guys come and tell me, no you´re ill no matter how you feel or what other ailments you may or may not have. The mind boggles. When was I afflicted with this illness? Was it when I succumbed to nature by looking in the mirror and accepting that I am old or was it on my 65th birthday or the day after my last day at work? To me this is akin to telling a perfectly healthy 25 year old that he is dying which of course is true but not imminent. No with all due respect, in my book ageing is not an illness, I hope you get your funds though so that you can treat me when I get ill.

Many Twitter followers were treated to a film clip where a television commentator, a professor of politics I am to understand, was interrupted by his small children entering the room during a broadcast. These children do what children do and their dad did what any dad would do. I dare say not many parents have experienced this situation live on television but certainly in other venues and just as embarrassing. No wonder the clip went viral with many of us both laughing at and I am sure, after the broadcast, with the the man and his children, recognizing him as one of us. He is saved by a woman who extracts the children from the room, bravely attempting to remain unseen by the camera. The programme was being broadcasted from Singapore and I assumed that the kids had done a runner from nanny. During the day there were a number of tweets and retweets about this incident. Especially one caught my eye suggesting that thinking the woman was a nanny had a racial twist to it. Why imagine that? Could not the professor, a white male, be married to her;  it appears he is. True enough, I stand corrected, or do I?  Hours later, after running this through my head and looking for evidence to strengthen my assumption that she was the nanny, the following occurred to me. What if I had assumed that the woman is the man´s wife?  Wouldn´t that have had an anti feminist twist to it by assuming it is the mother who takes care of the kids whilst the father is at work?

As it is put so nicely in Sweden. Whichever way you turn, your posterior is still at the back which is a rough translation of, tails I win, heads you lose. Just for the record, I´m not bothered if she is his wife or the nanny, it just reminded me of the joys of parenthood.

During the last month or so I have been receiving telephone calls from people who claim to be working for Microsoft. The English they speak is heavily accented and often only just reaches the mark of being understood. On the bright side they are extremely polite and more to the point, very concerned about my digital welfare. I have been informed that my Windows computer is behaving erratically on the Internet and that their computer department has detected serious defects in it. Not wanting to waste these peoples time out of consideration for their albeit misplaced concern, I quickly inform them that my computer is a Mac.  ”Not to worry sir, we have a Mac department that can help you.”

I think a lot of people at this stage would begin to challenge the wisdom of placing their computer welfare into the hands of ”computer experts” who cannot distinguish between a Mac and a Windows computer. Undoubtedly there are people who would continue the conversation for a while longer but I am sure that most of us would, somewhere along the line, arrive at the conclusion that they were being lied to and that there was something fishy going on and then put the phone down before being ripped off.

To me there is a parallel with Brexit here. You can fool all of the people some of the time and some of the people all of the time but not all all of the people all of the time.

Preventing them from putting the phone down is frightening.

Have you ever said ”what if” and wondered how different things would be? My most decisive ”what if” goes back a lifetime, fits into 30 seconds and can be summed up, ”what if I had opted for the cotton mills and chimney stacks?”

One day the London managing director of HRW, the publishing company I was working for, called me into his office. I had been informed earlier that the advertising division I had been a part of was to be closed down so I was feeling rather apprehensive. He began, with what I was convinced was to going to be a thank you and goodbye, by saying that although my department was being closed down the company did not want to lose me.  ”We have two area sales representative vacancies and if you are interested we would like to offer you one of them.”  I had only been with the company for a few months but knew this job entailed a lot of travelling to university cities, visiting bookshops as well as lecturers teaching subjects the company specialized in. He continued, ”the North West of England is one area and the other is Scandinavia.” Having lived most of my life in London or the Home Counties, the North West of England brought on images of cotton mills and chimney stacks. I gave it some thought though, about 30 seconds, and said, ”I´ll take Scandinavia,” coyly adding, ”It will give me the opportunity of learning  a new language.”

The Swedish word ”skatter” is the plural of ”skatt”  which has two meanings. Tax and  treasure. I never thought of this connection before reading a rather amusing article by Susanna Popova in today´s Svenska Dagbladet. She claims that taxes are something Swedes never joke about to which I wholeheartedly agree. Just to be clear on one point though, in my opinion Swedes do have a great sense of humour and never hesitate to see the funny side of most things. Swedish taxes just aren´t funny.

There are three predominant types of habitation in Sweden if you exclude summer camping in tents, mobile homes, caravans and time spent in little red and white summer cottages. They are renting a flat , owning your own house or being owner of a ”bostadsrätt” which literally translated means ”dwelling-right” Usually it means a block of flats where as a tenant you own a percentage of the whole and have a contract defining your own flat. It´s quite handy as everybody gets to share maintenance costs etc. by way of a monthly fee. The contract is bought and sold on an open market like any other dwelling. Things often work reasonably well, little different I would say, to owning your own flat at the same time paying homage to ”the Social Democrat that lives in every Swede.”  Wise words from a late friend of mine.

On its persistent treasure hunt to fill the nations coffers, the Swedish Tax Agency has now sniffed out the possibility of taxing dwelling-right owners if they have purchased extra space by e.g. buying a neighbouring flat and knocking down a wall or even if they have only bought a few extra square metres of parking space. The claim being that in theory the property was sold and bought again despite the owners not having moved an inch. We´re not talking pennies here but capital gains tax on the price difference the flat was purchased for and its new market value including the extra square metres.  For a house owner this would be like having to pay capital gains tax on one´s entire property just for buying the neighbour´s shed and the ground it stood on. Sweden´s Minister of Finance hasn’t been falling over herself to investigate possible legislation to avert what could have dire economic consequences for many people. She advises people to take the Tax Agency to court.

Enough to make a cat laugh but not a Swede.

When I first cameI to Stockholm I was often asked what I thought of Sweden . My answer would vary slightly depending on who was asking and any need of mine at the time to be provocative. This worked in both directions. A rosier picture when describing Sweden to my friends in England and somewhat more critical in the same situation in Sweden. My job which had me flitting around Scandinavia meant that my exposure to this Swedish culture shock was more in instalments, much like slowly walking into a freezing cold lake rather than jumping in. Well not too happy at first, I finally adjusted to the water. To be honest Sweden wasn’t the problem, as most people here seemed quite happy, the problem was me. I had been very fairly and politely treated by the Swedish Consulate in London, language was no problem until later when I started learning Swedish and everybody insisted on speaking English. The bank let me open 2 accounts, one private and one business, without a personal identity number. There was even a terrific pub on Grevgatan. Then what was my problem? Let me try and explain. First of all it was not only a terrific pub it was also the only terrific pub in the whole of Stockholm. Not that all the other pubs were sub-standard, they just didn’t exist. If you are young and live in Stockholm, close your eyes  and  just imagine for a minute: no pubs, very few restaurants, no coffee shops, no seating anywhere on a pavement outside, no pizzerias, no kebab stalls, no McDonalds or Burger King or any other hamburger joint for that matter. If you wanted a cold beer in a restaurant it  would have to be consumed with a sandwich or other food, local regulations. Well, I survived and somewhere along the line somebody realized the error of their ways and Stockholm today is one cool city. In another meaning you understand.