I don´t care if you call me a Grumpy Old Man which really only means you find my reasoning or complaining irritating, not necessarily untrue. 20 years younger and the epithet would have been ”Messerschmidt” the Swedish equivalent of ”Besserwisser” which means, well you know. There are politer ways of pointing out a person of experience and using one of these derogatory terms rather implies that the person at the receiving end of all this wisdom is probably not too happy with a condescending attitude rather than anything else. Yes, the cap fits and I´m wearing it!
I have lived in Sweden since 1971 which is probably longer than most Swedes. When I first came here from the UK one of the things that impressed me was the free movement of Scandinavian or more correctly Nordic nationals within the Nordic Countries. I suppose some rudimentary form of identification would have been required in some instances but I observed that fellow passengers mostly just waved their boarding cards exuding Scandinavian, or more correctly Nordic, self assurance..
My passport had expired and I had sent in an application for a new one, together with the necessary documentation and my old passport, to the British Embassy in Stockholm. No sooner said and done when my boss came to me and said he wanted me to fly to Oslo for a meeting and return the same day. Making excuses, however valid, are not recipes for successful careers so I nodded in compliance. My day return was from Örebro airport to Oslo Fornebu. The journey there went without a hitch. At Fornebu I waved my boarding card and exclaimed ”från Örebro” as if I didn’t´t have a care in the world. If there was any doubt in the immigration (border control is the term nowadays I have noticed) officers´s mind it might have been, ”I wonder which part of Sweden he comes from, strange dialect?” Well, I´d made it to the meeting which was the important thing. Örebro airport was a lot busier on my return with 2 aeroplanes on the tarmac. There was no waving any boarding pass this time and my attempts at a casual ”från Oslo” were met by a question in English. Without thinking I also reverted to English immediately realising my mistake. ”Where is your passport?” ”I don´t have it with me;” I replied. ”In that case I am afraid you can´t come to Sweden” ”But I live here,” I said almost in desperation. Without hesitation he let me through. I will of course never know exactly why. What I do know is that his decision was based on trust, a currency somewhat devalued these days.