In-groups are formed by what we consider to be ‘relevant’ familiarity. Children, and even adults, process most of our information visually which means that varying skin tones might be not only the first but also the only indicators for who is ‘in’ and who is ‘out’.
One reason why this immigration was considered successful had nothing to do with Sweden’s ability to integrate immigrants; only that the type of immigrants arriving were more easily ‘integrate-able’ as is still the case today for me. At first sight therefore, when immigrants are able to fit into Swedish culture at a level which allows them to peaceably live and work within the system, we do not see backlashes against immigration.
Welcome to the Swedish hen do–not a penis in sight–but where instead you can dress up as a pantomime cow to play five-a-side football.
I’d like Britain to be a part of that, I’d like Eurovision to become less of a guilty pleasure and more a resounding celebration of popular music for all countries. I’d like to see even more countries became involved in it (Australia please stay, you were great), for Eurovision to become a concept rather than a ‘club’ where certain member states are allowed to participate.
It might be traditional, but it’s certainly not about empowering women. And neither, by any stretch of the imagination is the Miss World competition which puts impossible ideals of beauty on a pedestal notwithstanding the charitable acts of its contestants.
Many grass fields on our island are cut manually with scythes. We’re not Amish. It’s a question of cost-benefit. The fields simply aren’t profitable enough to necessitate the purchase of a combine harvester. Likewise, the haystacks are hand made and the whole community mucks in.
“Do you actually know what 100 kilometres is?” said my boyfriend. “It’s 10 times 10.” I said facetiously. Seriously it doesn’t mean much to me. “It’s ten Swedish miles, not english miles.” “Huh?” I said. Then my father in law came over and he said ~ “We laughed about it. We thought you must think that the race is well, 10 …
In my old life I was constantly distracted. My preoccupation with consumption, money to live and struggle to achieve in my career despite the recession. The battle to live in our beautiful city and sustain our way of life blocked my ability to be open.
As she climbed naked down the ladder, she said ‘Watch for the light from the microorganisms ‘ And as she threw herself into the water her lit up ghostly self followed her as microscopic bioluminescent creatures emitted flashes of light as a fear response to the movement of the water. It was amazing. Nudity and magic.
As she paused for breath I felt my unborn baby move in my belly and my eyes, filled with tears. The image of calves so young that they still had their umbilical cords and the horror of calves being taken away from their mothers was too painful to think about.
Richmond in the outskirts of London is a simply beautiful town. It nestles on the bank of the Thames with a the biggest park in Europe containing deer, nature walks and the most breathtaking view from Pembroke Lodge (throw in a few scones with jam and cream from their coffee shop and you’d make even the Gods on Mount Olympus jealous). We …