Wiltshire's a bit far, but there's a nearby hill I might wonder up, from which basically the whole county is visible. I just need afternoon me to convince 1am me it's worth it.
A lasagne sandwich was the low point of my Year of Sandwiches. I'm sure it would have been delicious, but the lack of friction left me with a two-sheets-of-pasta-and-a-bit-of-bechamel-sauce sandwich and stained trousers.
Inspired by the Olympic spirit, I tried a new sandwich on every day in 2013. Faster, Higher, Stronger, Fatter.
September was slightly derailed by arguments over whether hot dogs count as sandwiches, but otherwise it was a celebration of human ingenuity and the determination to put things between slices of bread. I recommend the tortilla de patatas stottie with brown sauce, served with a side dish of pickled onion Space Raiders.
>I never know whether to be happy or sad on this day. Happy it's the highlight of Summer, or the beginning of longer nights.
That's exactly the sentiment when Swedes celebrate Midsommar. It's the height of the light season, which carries some significance in a country which is badly deprived of sunlight in the winter months, but it also marks the return of shorter days, if ever so slightly. So there's always a hint of sadness because you know it's not going to last.
I was on holiday in central Sweden once, and despite the inconvenience of having 11°C there in early July during most of our stay, it was fascinating that the entire night, it never got fully dark. You could almost read a book on the porch at 2 am with no additional light.
