Stockholm Revisited

Stockholm without its blanket of winter
is something of a new experience for me.
I should have been here yesterday,
but somebody's appendix decided to burst.
Things got a little shifted around as a result.
Flights were rescheduled. Accomodation re-arranged.
The Banbury Boy and the Tiffins Girl had once
come to this "Venice Of The North" to see in the new year.
They had made their way to the royal island of Djurgården
for the traditional Tennyson reading and the brass band.
There they shared a paper cup and a bottle of Merlot.
And at the stroke of midnight, the skies
all around lake Mälaren had lit-up with a
fabulous and sustained super-nova of a fireworks display.
The moment had been perfect.
The setting had been divine. Like Narnia made flesh.
But behind his cowardly smile, the Banbury Boy
was losing the battle to keep his loaded gun hidden from view.
The Tiffins Girl never knew what hit her.
The spots of red wine in the snow.
The Chitel deer in the headlights.
She forgave me in the end. Which is more than I deserved.