How to Spend It

Run into M.

We've hardly seen each other since we studied in Lund. Only the odd time, early on, after I moved to Stockholm.

I turn round to see if it's him.

He sees me.

After a hug we go into Maran bar. Order whisky shots.

M likes to retell how we met. He did it back then too, whenever he introduced me to some new tall guy from Sigtuna or Lundsberg:

“First lecture, Erik sat down on a stool with no backrest and fell over backwards.”

Shortly after, M and I discovered we had bought identical flats one above the other, in the middle of Lund.

His was full of friends from boarding school. Video games, pre-drinks or blacked-out rest.

Mine full of books and Coltrane at low volume.

One night there was an earthquake. The wardrobe jumped on the pine floor and its door flew open. M and I ran out into the stairwell and tried to work out what had happened. Then up to mine to read the news on my computer.

Otherwise it was me who came down to him. Mostly on Fridays. The alternative was lying on the sofa trying to read. The difference between going down and not going down was usually that I went to bed at four instead of ten.

When I think of Lund, it's autumn I see. Always fog and ten degrees. Red and bordeaux Virginia creeper climbing over brick and render. Dark green ivy. Shiny cobblestones. My green duffle coat with the detachable collar that always came off.

I studied comparative literature, art history and renovated my flat.

The prospects were highly uncertain.

Steamed and scraped off seven layers of wallpaper. Four floral, three plain. Moss green at the very bottom. Handles, a panelled door and fittings I bought at Byggfabriken in Malmö. Fell in love with the shop assistant. Bought linseed oil paint that never dried.

A builder came with his daughter by the hand and sent a quote for my bathroom. He ripped the bathroom out and then couldn't be reached.

The furnishing looked more and more like Strindberg's. Chesterfield sofa, Karl Johan table. Pipe rack.

Then I discovered Vitra and started looking for furniture online and at the local Zimmerdahl 20th Century Design. I ran into the owner the other week too, at the antiques fair at Liljevalchs.

At weekends I read FT Weekend on my Chesterfield, ate plate-sized slices of mortadella that I folded in half several times to fit the slices of the sourdough baguette I'd bought at the Saluhallen.

If the future was uncertain, it was all the clearer what would feel good for the rest of my life. FT Weekend's supplement was called How to Spend It. I interpreted the title freely.

Went on road trips. Visited a friend with a summer house in Brantevik. Rode in a friend's Jaguar through Fyledalen.

Read about wabi-sabi. Read theory by Saussure, Foucault and Derrida. Got a bad back from the Chesterfield for the first time.

In Apartamento I read about how people lived around the world. Not tidy in the way with built-in fridges and cookers. Rather raw and honest.

Write, socialise, meet girls, find a community.

Go down a flight of stairs to a neighbour.

Meet people who are different but fairly alike after a few beers.

October is coming to an end in Stockholm. More friends testify that they feel the weight of the season.

I have two wisdom teeth taken out and am stitched up.

Briefly imagine that I'm fairly gloomy too.

But the stitches pull every time I smile. I'm surprised how often. Like a dog that gets punished but can't stop barking.

A friend calls from Australia. He's out on his evening walk and I'm on my morning walk. When he starts teasing me I have to hold the phone away from my ear so it won't hurt my cheek too much. He's heard I've been offered a trip to Asia. He says I love travelling for free but always end up paying it back.

I go to a book launch at Konstig. It's another friend from Lund who runs the publishing house.

Go to a cider fair at Brygghuset. On the street stands a Jaguar E-Type.

Don't know the owner.

But Lund is here.

That's where I learned about autumn.