500 Things to do in the 500 Days until the Big 3-0: 145. Happy Birthday Sweden!

6th June 2014, Brick Lane, London

6th of June, 1523 was somewhat of a big deal.

It was the year when the man considered our first proper king was elected and funnily enough was also the last king to ever be elected as he was the one to kick off hereditary monarchy in Sweden. Cue cross country skiing adventures trying to flee angry Danes, getting up in the Pope's grill and the royal kids getting killed off with arsenic spiked pea soup. Strictly speaking the skiing happened before he was king, but some maniacs still ski the same crazy distance in his honour every year, so I'd say it's still worth noting.

Due to this election, 6th June is considered to be the day of Swedish independence as a nation seeing as king Gustav Vasa had made it his mission in life that far to stop the Danes from killing us all. Silly Danes. And he was rather successful seeing that as of this day, Sweden was ruled by the King of Sweden instead of the King of Denmark.

There are debates on whether or not this is the real reason we celebrate our national day on this date in question as quite a lot has gone on 6th June in Sweden. I have however decided this is the real reason because the king was elected in my hometown back in 1523. Plus I do love a man with a beard and that, my friends, king Vasa had. A ginger one at that.

The national day only became a national holiday 9 years ago so we are still growing our traditions around this, but sadly, not a lot of people celebrate it in the way Sweden deserves. We are after all the country of ABBA & Bjorn Borg, we were one of the first countries to allow women to vote and to ban forced marriage, we have stayed clear of war almost as long as Switzerland and we are the inspiration for the best Muppet of all. I'm not saying we should go over the top and all 4th July on our national day, but at least some celebrations would be in order.

So I took matters into my own hands and arranged for a Swedish themed dinner in celebration of my Mothership. And somehow this dinner of four or five turned into a party of at least 15 and all the vodka we could drink.

Some crazy person - you know who you are - suggested I'd just get people to buy take out and come to my house. I do not do take out parties. Pizza on the floor at pre house warming parties, sure, but not ordering take out to any other parties! That is not proper hostess behaviour.

Instead I cook and bake for three days until I never want to see a spatula ever again. Seven types of food and seven types of cookies and cakes is what it takes for me to feel like I've accomplished something. And seeing as I had no leftover meatballs the next morning, I would say people enjoyed it! I would even say they enjoyed themselves until 3 AM when I believe the last person left the flat. Apart from the police man sleeping on our couch. But that's OK, he was more or less invited.

I feel extra Swedish now. I might even do the ski thing next year. If someone pushes me at least 85 kilometre of the 90 kilometre distance.