The rain trickles down from the sky. Although it’s nearly May, the rain is a little icy. It stings a bit when it hits your skin. My coat is unbuttoned, so I pull it more closely around me. The wind cuts through me like a knife. I curse the fact that I only have a shirt on underneath and not a jumper too.
I walk along the road and notice that the cafés have opened their outdoor terraces. People huddle outside and drink a beer, or eat pizza. Some of them are lucky enough to have an infraheater above their heads casting a grateful heat onto them. Others may be shrouded in woolly blankets to protect them from the chill.
It really is far too cold to sit outside. But, this is Sweden, and it is the spring and as soon as the outdoor terraces are open, you sit there.
It is the continental thing to do.