Sorry Brenda from Bristol

Yes, another one.

Got up early, but not as early as I planned. Most unusually I had been bright enough to book a flexible ticket and when I got to Puttgarden at the top bit of Germany everything was most efficient. The Computer recognised my car and as I was walking around to complain to it, the barrier rose. I was on, and heading for Rodbyhavn in Denmark. Nice trip, but another where I could not go outside.

No grumbling by the Danes when I arrived and I carried on, heading for Copenhagen (or whatever the Danes call it) and ready to go to the bridge across to Malmo. I was ahead of schedule and decided to go into the centrum (as they say) to have a sniff around. So now I have done it. I went past the queue outside the Tivoli Gardens (reminiscent fo outside Madame Tussauds) and I made my excuses and carried on driving.

Worryingly the Sat Nav stopped saying Malmo and said Helsinger. I am no singer but followed the computer and started seeing pictures of ferries. I had missed the bridge and ended up an another ferry, from Helsinger to Helsingborg. Hel, I still can't sing. I went to the automatic gate (didn't notice the manned one) and couldn't get my card to work. Lady on the intercom couldn't help me and said the automat was broken. Charming smily man took my ransom.

Second ferry of the day and this is Helsingborg. I managed to lose my car on the ferry and when I worked out where it was the place was half full of juggernauts. [Whatever came of juggernauts? They were all the rage at one time when lorries couldn't be more than 28 proper old British tons not these foreign tonnes we have these days. They were regarded as work of the devil. I created a joke: what do you call a 28-ton dairy tanker? A juggermilk]

A grumpy stevedore (another word we don't hear these days) stopped the traffic coming n and I escaped. The last one, obviously. Well, what could the Customs woman do except stop me? A suspicious young man with slightly long hair (I've been there before about 50 years ago in Dover). She asked me where I was coming from. Denied it was Colombia and said Germany. I fessed I was really from Ingerland. She asked me where I was heading. As you will know, it got complicated. She rolled her eyes in a friendly way (we have a right one here, she said under her breath in Swedish, I imagine) and wished me bon voyage. In English.

So I set out for my hotel, in Norkoping. Well precisely in Granna. Pronounced Grenna. It's the umlaut. Turned out to be 30 miles further. That's fine, and it's next to a massive lake.

It's rather charming - sort of Bowness-on-Windermere with additional flavour of Clacton. But it turned out this was just the district. I was actually staying in Bunn which is next to another slightly smaller lake called, spookily, Lake Bunn. Think of Rydal Water, where hangs other stories.

This was half way back to Norkoping but over the mountain, which had both impressive gradients and a lang section of gravel road, No, not a rally driver though there are plenty in the family.

Well, I made it, and it's lovely.

On my travels I saw a lot of Swedish cows, which were that pale beige colour which when I was a kid we said were Jersey cows. I was thinking about this and about my friend in Jersey.

Anyway the Bunn cows are not Jersey. They are what we used to call Fresian. Don't know what they have to do with Freesias (don't smell so nice) or whether they have any connection to fresia, wherever that may be or not.

Was also thinking about birds, because there are a lot of little songbirds about. I used to know what they are but now only really crows and water birds. On my wander I saw an Eagle.

On closer examination it was not real. Made of paper and attached by string to a post.

When I saw it I thought I shoud pray and there is a chapel just outside my door. Decided to avoid it as it might be the wrong denomination.

Nice dinner outside in the sunshine. Two findings from the day.

There are plenty of museums in Grenna. I was tempted by the Husqvarna museum (they used to make scrambler bikes when I cared about that and it was on TV every Saturday - I bet you haven't even heard of Arthur Lampkin. Today I stopped for a rest and was alarmed by something lurking in the undergrowth: it turned out to be a driverless lawnmower thingy made by...Husqvarna). Also obviously the Moped Museum is hard to skip, but I have a long way to go and it can't be all pleasure.

The pleasure was to see a picture of two of my heroes.

The Swedes are poets, obviously.

Oh I forgot. A little map

And the surprising revelation that Dr Beeching (or his spirit) reached Sweden.

Bunn Junction is no more.