While all Sweden is one big hangover after the excessive drinking on Midsummer Eve yesterday (that's if you go after Swedish newspapers and Swedish Facebook friends' updates), Staffan and I have just started, with herring, new potatoes and a schnapps for lunch. We should have invited some friends. It's weird not to celebrate Midsummer with huge crowds.
Many years ago, my great-aunt was visiting us in Sweden around Midsummer, and I took her to the nearest celebration site to give her a sense of a genuine Swedish Midsummer. We brought picnic and sat in a hge ring with dozens of other families, watching the maypole being raised, the fiddlers play, the professional and amateur dancers dance, everybody sing. But my aunt was most impressed by a middle-aged man next to us. He was on his own. He had a low folding table with a nice table-cloth, a real plate, knife and fork, and a little glass. He had his picnic and his bottle. He poured himself a drink, chased it with herring and potatoes. He had no one to share the feast with, but he didn't want to be left behind.