Since the bad weather had pursued us, the plan was to spend the day in museums, learning the truth. But Swedes lie.
There is no coffee cow.
Or tea moose.
And as for the snuff, snus and match museum’s claims about their display of actually-growing tobacco, the less said the better.
However, Mr Chicken soon put in an appearance and the day began to improve.
For example, there was vital information about snuff and revolutionary politics.
And then, hidden away around a corner, behind cupboard doors at a height not easy for children to reach, was the display of saucy snus boxes (look away now if easily offended).
After which, these might come in handy:
Stirred to a frenzy of curiosity by my discovery of such naughty accoutrements, I was delighted to spot another hidden-away, above-child-height cupboard.
Not quite so impressive.
Still, on the bright side, Nietzsche’s still dead.
He’s still dead, I tell you.
And then we were pursued by the police.
Apparently, you’re not supposed to take photos in the museums and galleries. Or root around in their fuse boxes looking for dirty pictures.
Mark Bould 