Today is Father’s Day in Sweden. I’m not a father, not in the biological sense, or even the legal one. But I do have a three and a half year-old living with me – us – every other week. His mother surprised me with a nice Davidoff cigar, and a proper ashtray to go with it. She knows how to feed my vices… It was a nice moment, and a beautiful thing to do. I’m cherishing it.


And yes, I spoke to my father. He didn’t have a cigar but seemed in good spirits. As he should be.