This morning, before work, I booked my ticket to Copenhagen, from where I will catch a train to Malmö and commence the next leg of my journey. Yesterday was great, catching up with friends, receiving prayer and encouraging words. It's really only just dawning on me that living in another country will mean being a long way from many people I hold dearly.

I'm in Bristol this weekend, hanging out with Mark G and friends and currently enjoying free wireless internet at Boston Tea Party. It's nice to visit this city that was my home last year, seeing how things have changed and hearing stories of what God has been up to.

Pedestrian Logic
I've noticed a strange phenomenon while riding back and fore along the Taff Trail. If you're riding along the cycle path and there's a pedestrian walking in the opposite direction, on the opposite side of the path, more often than not that person will change his or her path so they are walking directly towards you.

Yesterday I handed in my notice at McLatte, which means I will finish there on the 9th November, the day before my Dad's 51st birthday. They've been a really good team to work with.

Don't eat Norwegian fika
Gair tells me that fika, the Swedish word for going out for coffee and cake, describes the act of punching someone in Norway.

Confession
During the past few weeks I've had numerous conversations in which I've informed people that I'm "thinking about" moving to Sweden. In truth I should have said "planning to move" rather than "thinking about moving." I've held back a little on announcing this to the world as I needed space to figure it out.

Mark is such a great cook. This afternoon he russled us up a veggie roast dinner with fairtrade Chocolate and Cherry Cheesecake for desert. mmmmmmmm.

The guide book warned us that swedes are reserved and polite but nothing prepared us for the law abiding citizens we were to meet. They wait at the traffic lights until the green man appears (or sounds his 'tack, tack, tack, tack...'- perhaps thanking them for their patience), they don't cycle on pavements (at least not since a recent law on the topic was introduced), and they don't litter. Our theory was that the police there actually enforce those 'minor' laws that the police in the UK don't seem to have time to enforce.

Sweden
Well I’ve finally managed to sit still in front of this little computer for long enough to tell the stories of our trip to Sveringe. It began with a journey on the Megabus, a night in Stansted Airport and a Swedish stamp in my passport (I had to ask for it).

Malmö is lovely. It’s a city in which I felt immediately at home. From the falafel shops on every street to the parks, or the bike-culture that is so much part of the city.

We took day trips to Helsinborg and Halmstad, two towns on the west coast of Sweden and on the Sunday visited Copenhagen Vineyard.

Clubbing in Sweden
There is a new law in Sweden that prohibits smoking in clubs. My first instinct towards this was, “Yes! Finally I can go clubbing and be able to breathe.” Interestingly one of the side effects of the club no longer being filled with smoke is that the body odour of those on the dance floor becomes much more apparent. I hope they figure out how to change that soon…

Falafel
Not only is there a cycling culture in Malmö, there’s also a culture of falafel which has a lot to do with the great ethnic diversity of the place. Falafels, for those of you who don’t know, are deep fried balls of chickpea served in a flat bread wrap with salad and tzatziki or feta cheese. They are delicious and cost just 15kr (£1.10).

Fika
Fika is a word for the act of eating cake and drinking coffee. We did lots of this. Jag gillar att fika.

Liquorice
I love the fact that you can go into any grocery store and get liquorice. My favourite discoveries of this trip are salty liquorice chewing gum and liquorice flavour ice cream. Delicious.

I met Martin yesterday. Martin is the International Director of Starbucks. He is responsible for all Starbucks outside the USA. I decided to ask him about graduate opportunities within Starbucks. Apparently the standard way of progressing is to start as a Barista and to work your way up...

The last 48 or so hours have been some of the weirdest of my life. I ended up going to Sweden last week (more to follow) and flew back on Monday so that I could be at my Grandpa's funeral, which was yesterday. We knew that time was going to be tight, so hired a car so that we could speed up our journey form Stansted to Cardiff. However on arrival at Stansted I was asked for my driving licence and when I could only present the card section of it was told I couldn't have a car. Their insurance demands that they see a full paper and card driving licence.

This left us with one option - a bus to Paddington Station and then a train to Cardiff. Unfortunately the only train to Cardiff was at 5.45am on Tuesday morning, and this was 11.30pm Monday. So we endured one long night at Paddington and returned to Cardiff with very heavy eyelids.

The funeral was at 2pm, but we were getting together with family late morning so I arrived, ate breakfast, showered, donned my suit, and we made our way to Llanelli.

It was a very sad, but wonderful day celebrating the life of a much loved and godly man. It was amazing meeting people whose lives bore testimony to his pastoral care and insight. One of the things that really stood out was how people described him as a gentle, humble man. In a world of hard-nosed selfish ambition this really stands out.

I'm so tired right now that I'm sure I'm not doing justice to what I'm feeling, or balancing the priority of subject matter very well, but please forgive me.

My Grandpa died this morning. We think he was descending the stairs from the room at the back of his house where he used to go and pray. He must have lost his footing on the stairs, fallen and hit his head.

It’s strange talking about him in the past tense. Just a few weeks ago I was with him, sat, metaphorically, at his feet, asking questions about calling and living to the full. Thomas Ronald Morgan was a unique man, genuine, humble and passionately in love with Jesus. He loved people and chose to see the best in them, even when some would consider him naïve to do so. Towards the end of his life, he nursed my Grandma as her Alzheimer’s progressed, modelling the kind of unwavering love that you really don’t see every day.

My Grandpa was both an inspiration and a friend and he will certainly be missed.

When The Roll is Called Up Yonder
When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more,
And the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair;
When the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll, is called up yon-der,
When the roll is called up yonder I’ll be there.

On that bright and cloudless morning when the dead in Christ shall rise,
And the glory of His resurrection share;
When His chosen ones shall gather to their home beyond the skies,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

Let us labour for the Master from the dawn till setting sun,
Let us talk of all His wondrous love and care;
Then when all of life is over, and our work on earth is done,
And the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.
(James M. Black)