Terrorists at the nuclear plant?
The other day the alarm went off at the Oskarshamn nuclear plant on the Swedish east coast. A worker was caught with bomb materials in a plastic bag, trying to enter the plant. He and his friend were instantly interned and soon the news crews were all over the place and the rumours were flying around with lightning speed. Al Qaeda? Iraqi terrorists? Palestinians? Followers of Dart Sauron of Voldemort?

Well it turned out that these rogues were connected to organized crime of the biker kind. One of them was a criminal connected to a hang-around club to Hells Angels. And while people out there kept shitting in their pants I sort of breathed with relief. OK these orcs are bad but I can't see what blowing up a nuclear plant would benefit Hells Angels. Or even take it as hostage. They would be hunted down like the plague they really are and all their dirty little business would be gone in a zap.

No, I think the blokes were intending to use the explosives for blowing up something more mundane. A bank machine perhaps. We were not looking at another Chernobyl here, not at all. But I am glad that the security worked. After all we Swedes have been accused of taking security and terrorist matters a bit too light-hearted. But I hope that impression will change now. And that anyone wanting to bomb a nuclear plant around here will have to think again.



Bye Bye Childhood Home
I've seen it coming for some years now, and today it finally happened.

My parents sold their villa, the house where I and my sister and brothers grew up. The day before yesterday I walked these familiar rooms for the last time saying goodbye. Bye bye living room, bye bye dining room, TV-room, bar, big bathroom, small bathroom, sauna, attic family room, kitchen... and most of all the room in the attic that used to be mine.

The room which have seen so many laughter, tears, emotions. The room where I played my music, gossiped and slept over with friends, kissed boyfriends and had clandestine chocolate orgies with my sister....

Sad one might think. No, not really. More... unreal. I still haven't really got used to the fact that the place is gone now. Not the house, it's still standing. But the very special place where we lived... It's not my parents' furniture, books and stuff there anymore. The only thing left was the old piano the new owners wanted to keep and my parents wanted rid off.

And while they have moved downtown and love it, I guess I'm going to come to terms with it after a while. Going to realize that there won't be any more Christmases or Crayfish parties or Football Eves anymore... I'll have to get use to that place not being ours anymore and that I can't just go there on a whim. That it has been the last time...



Bad art museum
And while we're at the bad and the tacky - take a look at the Bad art museum [link] (hope anyone of you don't find her- or himself in there )




Museum of good art



Some fine clubs:



for now!

Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars....

10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1 //// Liftoff.....