Being different

A quiet evening out in Stockholm's more bohemian quarters. Time to catch up, wind down and get into weekend mood. Conversations flowing from buying the perfect flat at the right price to new work possibilities. And the difficulties of finding dating objects. Or when you find them they have too many competing priorities which makes the love story into a slow motion film that you can't fast forward.

After our little bar area was invaded buy a very loud group of gay men (who by the way practiced snogging in public as if there was no tomorrow - a bit like Italians in their spas), we decided to take our pretty selves elsewhere. We lost Adorable to John Blund when Sweetest M and I decided to explore the bohemian quarters a bit further.

I don't know what it was - our handbags (may be expensive but very low profile), our make-up (discreet and natural of course), hair (??) or may be our searching gaze when we tried to grasp if this was a nice place to hang out on a Friday evening. The feeling of being different was obvious.

That's how Stockholm works. You move ten minutes in one direction and oups, the norm has changed. Subtle differences in outfits, style and even body language. All of a sudden we were different.

We decided that, yes, this was a nice place to hang out and, no, we were not staying. Tube back to our old, familiar local restaurant where we ended the evening with a large pot of tea!!