I am a hundred years old. We went to Fjällgatan after dinner last night. It's the best place for icecream and spectacular view in Stockholm. I had a hazelnut cone. Jesper had walnut and pistachio (the walnut was a mistake). Blanka had pear. Wilhelm had chocolate and pistachio. All very good (except the walnut).
But when I went over to hang on the rail, my stomach turned. And there was nothing wrong with the gelato.
It's me. I'm an old lady. I'm an old lady who cannot do heights anymore. WTF. I had to to stand back and watch my family happily picking out boats and rollercoasters and houses. Hence the terrible picture. I couldn't get close enough! (Well, that and the camera's still not working.)
Leo would never be afraid of heights. He's a pilot for crying out loud. But me, I'm just a little old lady of 35. Crap.
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3 comments:
Anna, let's make a club. The height-suffering crying bloggers...
Count me in! Can we add "hot" just for fun? I don't see the harm in flattering ourselves just a little bit.
Sure, anything you want!
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