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CAN A HORSE CHANGE PERSONALITY WHEN IT CHANGES LOCATION?

Recently, I have seen and heard many discussions about how long it can take for a horse to feel at home in a new place and how long it should take before one can use the horse, etc. We all agree that not all horses are the same, and even if a horse is well-behaved in a new place, it doesn’t mean it feels at home. I have discussed with many people, and in my opinion, one should count on approximately a year before being sure that the horse feels secure with its new owner and its new place. I know that horses move much more frequently than that, and many may not agree with me.

However, I have a funny story about thinking you know and understand your horse. Many years ago, I became the owner of a North Swedish stallion that I had from a foal and did everything with. When he turned two, I wanted to show him to see if he was worth keeping as a stallion because that was my wish. I had trained with him since he was little, and I had walked and run with him for kilometers to teach him to walk properly. I taught him to stand up, stand still, move one leg at a time, and I knew what I was doing. I had shown many horses at the appraisal and received prizes for it, so it was important to me that my own horse showed himself at his best. I was completely convinced that I could not have trained him more and was sure that the presentation would go well.

When we arrived at the showground and unloaded him, it was as if a devil possessed him. He went completely crazy! Screaming and striking with his front legs, rearing up, and throwing himself from side to side. We could barely hold him. I thought, I’ll walk him a bit so he calms down and gets to see the surroundings. He didn’t calm down… Eventually, we had to tie him between two trees, and there he stood screaming and fussing, completely wild. It was a while until he was supposed to be shown, and I thought he must calm down and get a little tired. He wasn’t a bit more tired or less wild when I was about to show him. He spent most of the time on his hind legs, and I really struggled to get him to do just a bit of what I had taught him. The worst part was when the judge was about to give his verdict on Kosack. He got very good scores on his conformation, but… then the judge said that he could imagine that the owner might have trained him a bit better at home!! I was on the verge of tears and completely exhausted.

Afterward, I took him to my job. I worked at High Chaparral at the time, so he got to learn to be among horses, people, steam engines, and much more, so he was as gentle as a lamb when we left there.

The following year, I showed him at the appraisal. He obeyed my slightest command, and he was approved.

Many factors influence a horse’s behavior, and we can never know when they will show a side different from the one we are used to. I have several stories about horses that change when they come to a new place and have received complaints from people who thought that it wasn’t the horse they bought. Give it plenty of time and get to know the horse before you start tinkering with it 🙂

The picture is from a newspaper when I got Kosack approved. It was not so comment then, that a woman owned a stallion:)

Csarli Made New Friends!

Throughout my life, I have had many horses, often several at a time. I have bred and sold horses, so there has always been a herd. Recently, I sold many of them, ensuring they found good homes, and for almost a year now, I’ve only had two. It felt empty, and I talked to some people about possibly getting another horse. On Tuesday, a lady contacted me. She had heard from my farrier that I might have room for another horse. They were about to send one to slaughter, and they felt sorry for him. They sent a picture, and I was sold. Everything happened so quickly because the transport to the slaughterhouse was coming that same day, and they offered to bring the horse to me instead. I was informed that he had a ligament injury, so he couldn’t be used as a riding horse, and I fully understood this. He had ring shoes and long toes because he was originally meant for slaughter. When he arrived, things were a bit chaotic. My two horses, who had been alone together, were not exactly ready to let a new one in, but Csarli was calm and stayed away. Luckily, I have a very large open stable, so they each took a spot in different ends, allowing him to settle after the journey.

This is when it’s fun to study the horses and their communication. In my small herd, Maersk is the boss, and Mercedes is “under” him. In this situation, it was Mercedes who stepped up to show Csarli that he shouldn’t come close. She lunged at him and squealed a few times. Maersk was almost neutral, watching Csarli from a distance. Now, it was Mercedes who protected Maersk from this brown intruder, and she was on high alert. After a while, when she realized he wasn’t dangerous, the lunges became less frequent. When they started to get curious about each other, she still intervened, not letting Csarli sniff Maersk.

On Friday, I had the farrier come to remove Csarli’s shoes and trim his hooves, and the others wanted to join. They had already become friends, though their interactions were still measured. Yesterday, they moved as a unit to the pasture (I watch them secretly), and they looked like they had always been together!

You learn a lot by studying horses and letting them go through their routines and rituals calmly. My horses spend most of the day inside (they have an open stable of 30×70 meters) and then graze at night when the horseflies and flies are asleep. Now, we will observe how Csarli moves on his legs and try to trim and adjust his hooves so that hopefully, he will walk a bit better. You can never know everything about horses, and it is as interesting to study them now as it was 50 years ago 🙂

Do you also study your horse/herd?

What’s Holding You Back?

We’re all human. Finding an excuse for why things didn’t turn out the way we wanted is natural. I’ve had many horses in my life and have learned a thing or two along the way. I’ve also been through a lot, and I am human too. Now, due to various circumstances, I only have two horses left. When horses are used to being in a herd, they rely on each other. I only have a paddock, which means if I ride one, the other gets upset and runs back and forth, affecting the one I’m riding, making it tense as well. Yes, it’s an excuse for not riding. You might think, “Can’t you take the other one as a lead horse?” (which I would have said myself). I’m almost always alone here, with no one to help if something happens, and the one I’m not riding is 18 years old and very stubborn. I see myself hanging on a string between the two horses. It’s also worth mentioning that the mare I have hasn’t been ridden since she was 4, as she has been a broodmare. She’s very sweet and well-handled, but it takes a long time to teach her anything (another excuse, as I have a lot to do).

I have a friend who loves horses but isn’t a very experienced rider, who wished to ride the mare, which could solve the problem. I would also have a riding companion. I knew this would mean a lot of work since we had to start from scratch with the mare, but why not? The problem is that I also have to teach my friend everything, like how to bridle, how to mount, and how to ride a horse that isn’t used to being ridden. So we started a bit with the bridle (we use a bitless bridle since she’s had dental issues), which she also needed to get used to, and now we’ve done a little bit of walking, bareback. I ride first, and the mare follows. She’s the type who stops when there are things she doesn’t understand, so we take it slow 🙂

We have now ridden a few times and are starting to think about putting a saddle on her and have tried one that might fit (I have plenty lying around from all the horses I’ve had), and she took that well too. My friend has been coming early in the morning because it’s very hot here, and now there’s yet another problem. The last time we were going to ride, there was an invasion of horseflies, and my horse went crazy. I understand him because it can’t be fun to be bitten by those, and there were many! The mare just stood still and refused to move. Now we’re going to try in the evening instead to see if there are fewer horseflies then.

In situations like these, it’s easy to give up. It becomes too troublesome to ride, and our brain tells us it’s not worth it. But what does the heart say? I’ve been riding all my life and don’t intend to stop now. You have to tell the universe that it has chosen the wrong person to irritate and that I will never give up 🙂

What’s holding you back?

I an article from Ridsport, I saw:

Meadow Hay Examined Closely

Forage for horses generally contains few species, and the most common seed mixes for horses include between two and five types of grasses or legumes. In Värmland, plants and nutrient values in meadow hay were examined, harvested from sixteen different meadows. Sample plots in the study’s meadows had up to 33 species of vascular plants. Analyses show that these plants had high levels of organic minerals, which can facilitate absorption. This suggests that horses would benefit from hay with many different species in it. Meadow hay can also be a good complement to increase feed variety. Source: Horse hay from meadows, an underestimated resource. Länsstyrelsen Värmland 2022.

I read this and shake my head, logic for caged hens, I think, but is it? In recent years, people have had it drilled into their ears that agriculture should be like this. You must produce, spray, plow, sow, and spray again. Then you turn the grass a couple of times when it’s cut, and then it’s pressed into big bales. It’s quantity, not quality. Then you have to analyze the hay so you know what’s in it because the horse can’t have too much of this and too little of that. It has become so normal that people forget to look at the horse. Then you can always compensate with some synthetic minerals that the horse can’t absorb in its body. When we made our own hay, we refused to buy artificial fertilizers and spray. We didn’t plow and sow but took the grass that grew naturally. Our horses had free access to the hay, and we never had colic or laminitis. When horses have free access, they themselves reject what is not edible. Yes, there is some waste, but think about how much money you save by not buying artificial fertilizers and seed. To make proper hay, it should be meadow hay, and it should be cured in stacks. If it needs to be baled, it should be loosely pressed. Then you get fantastic “medicine” for the horses. I remember the hay that the horses got in the past; it smelled like summer when you picked it up from the loft. Stacking and doing that work is hard. It’s hot, and there are flies and horseflies, but the reward came when you got to go home with a load of hay and then get juice and cake. Today, you get a hay bale that you can’t move without machines, and if there is something wrong with one bale, there are many kilos of hay to throw away. When you don’t make the hay yourself, you have to rely on others. I’ve bought hay here in Hungary and have seen many different types of hay, but here they talk specifically about horses needing meadow hay. That’s why many have it, and the horses love it. I am so glad that it’s possible to buy unsprayed hay. There is so much more to say about hay, and I think back to the farmers who taught me how to make proper hay. I learned to cut, rake, stack, transport, and store it. I believe it has saved me a few veterinary visits over the years, even though I’ve never had my hay analyzed. Here is photographic evidence that I learned it from scratch, where I am driving Hamn in front of a grascutter machine. Not so easy, I can say; it was easier to rake 🙂

Wonderful Experiences with Hamn

It was no problem for me to walk a few kilometers when I was at the summer cottage during the holidays in Blekinge. I didn’t get a bike until we had had the summer cottage for a few years, so I had to walk. It didn’t matter; I had the day to myself and was never bored. The forest was my friend, and I was never afraid, not even when it was dark. It was almost never that anyone came on the road, and you could hear cars from a distance, so you could move aside. One day, as I was lost in my thoughts, I got that feeling that someone was watching me. You probably know the feeling when you think someone is behind you, you turn around, and there’s no one there.

I didn’t often get that feeling because, as I said, I felt quite safe. But on this particular day, I turned around a couple of times because I thought there was something, but I saw nothing. The third time I turned and looked, there was a dog walking right behind me, and I got the shock of my life. I screamed, not because I was afraid of the dog, but just because there actually was someone there. The dog was also shocked when I screamed and ran away from me, looking back, reproachful and offended. I tried to call it back, but it had had enough of me and trotted off into the forest again. Probably a hunting dog out with its owner.

I usually went to Bertil in Slätten after I had seen his horses and knew I was welcome. Bertil took me everywhere when he went out with the horse. I learned everything about driving in the forest, harvesting hay, and spreading manure. He also sometimes drove to neighboring farms if he had business there. He drove the horse more often than he drove his car.

After I had been with Bertil for a while and he saw that I could ride, I was also allowed to ride Hamn. Hamn was wonderful to ride, and I enjoyed every minute.

One day, my parents asked if Bertil would like to come over for coffee, and he didn’t say no and naturally came driving with Hamn, so he could allow himself a little drink if offered. He unhitched Hamn when he arrived, and the arrangement was that I would watch Hamn while Bertil had coffee.

Now it happened that the good Lord took no account of Bertil wanting to have coffee, so it started to rain while I was standing there watching Hamn. What do you do then? I’ve never been one to hesitate between thought and action, so I led Hamn into the basement and tied him to a door handle. I also didn’t like the idea of the adults having coffee without me, so I went up to join them in the house.

Bertil jumped up from his chair when he saw me and wondered what I had done with Hamn. I told him that he was standing dry and fine in the basement, so there was no problem 🙂 Bertil couldn’t help but laugh when he saw that Hamn was standing calmly and patiently waiting for us, but he thought we shouldn’t tempt fate, so he took Hamn out again.

By then, the rain had also stopped, so we didn’t get wet as we drove back to Bertil’s place again.

Here we are hitching Hamn again after coffee and a brief stay in the basement. Circa 1970.

Hamn

My longing for horses was enormous when I was a child, and I explored every nook where there might be a horse when I was at the summer cottage in Blekinge. Our cottage was 3 km from the paved road, and when driving on the public gravel road, you had to turn onto an even smaller gravel road and drive about 300 meters to get to the cottage. So when I went on one of my exploration trips, I could either go left or right when I reached the mailbox by the “larger gravel road.”

If I went left, after a few kilometers, I would reach a sawmill that was completely dilapidated. You wouldn’t believe that anyone used it, but the owner, Henry, actually did. Henry seemed odd to me, even though he always greeted kindly when you walked by. Today, I think he was probably shy. He always looked down at the ground, and he had one tooth in his lower jaw that was the only thing you saw when he talked. Henry also had a horse, but I didn’t dare talk to him, and the horse always stood a long way from the road, so I never got to know it well. However, it looked well cared for and fine. After the sawmill, you would reach Henry’s house where he lived with his sister. It was neglected too, but not as badly as the sawmill. You could see that it had once been a nice place and had even been a general store at one time. People said that the entire store was intact when it was sold many years later after the two had passed away, with all the jars and glasses, the counter, and everything.

After that, you would come to a giant hill down into a valley and then an enormous uphill, called Slätten. I never thought it was “flat” there, a bit strange with the name. After you had climbed the long hill, there was a small house with a very nice garden, well-kept and orderly. Further up on a hill was the stable that belonged to it.

I had walked by there several times, but there had never been anyone on the farm when I went by, but one day I got lucky! A little old man who was almost a head shorter than me, even though I wasn’t that old, lively and cheerful with sparkling eyes and a cap. He greeted me, and I told him who I was, and he had already heard about me that I had been with Sven and Signe and loved horses. I pointed to the stable and shyly asked if he had a horse in there, because I had heard a neigh once when I passed by. He did and said, “Come, I’ll show you!”

What awaited me in the stable was something I could never have dreamed of. It was like a fairy tale! In the stall stood a large coal-black North Swedish stallion with a wavy mane almost all the way down to his knees. I had never seen anything so beautiful, it was Hamn. His forelock was so big that you could barely see his head, but you could glimpse bright and curious eyes underneath it.

This stallion turned out to be not only beautiful but also fantastically nice both to drive and ride, and you can probably understand that it wasn’t the last time I visited Bertil. It also became a lifelong friendship with the horses in focus.

In the picture, it’s Bertil Hansson with Hamn in 1970.

Steeplechase

I live by the belief that you only live once, and if you get a chance to experience something fun or exciting, you should do it. This mindset has given me many experiences that I can now entertain you with. 🙂

When I had my wonderful horse Markant and used him for a bit of everything, I was asked if I would consider participating in a steeplechase. I had to think for a while before I said yes, because Markant was not exactly like a thoroughbred—he was 173 cm tall and not the fastest in his movement. I concluded that someone has to come last, and at least I would have participated.

My horse was in excellent condition, as I used to ride hunts and train in various ways, so it wouldn’t be a struggle for him. It was similar to a hunt, just a bit faster. 🙂

There were beautiful jumps, and Markant was a gem when it came to jumping, so the first part wasn’t too difficult and was actually quite fun. The finishing stretch was set on a very long, steep uphill, which was a smart idea since it meant the pace wasn’t too fast. At the top of the hill stood the judges, positioned in the middle of the wide path. Everyone was riding as hard as they could, and I didn’t push too much because I knew I had no chance against the much faster horses. As expected, I wasn’t dead last but close, and I overheard the judge shouting that no one had crossed the finish line because they had all gone the wrong way, following the leaders.

Since I was in the rear, I had time to steer Markant back and over the finish line, and thus I came in second. 🙂 I think there were 16 participants.

When I went to accept the prize, it felt a bit off—it was kind of cheating. But on the other hand, I had completed the entire race, not knocked down any jumps, and stayed in it all the way. I chose to be happy for my prize; no one would benefit from me being ashamed, so it was a fantastic day. The ones who should have won took it really well, and we all had a good laugh. We were all there to have fun, and it was a fantastic stepplechase and a pleasure to ride!

That’s me in the blue shirt heading up the final hill!

Dolan

When I was 8 years old, my parents bought a summer cottage in Blekinge in Brännarebygden. As Danes, we translated this to “Brännvinsbyn” (Brandy Village) and had a bit of fun with it. It was a small cottage about 3 km from the paved road, situated all by itself. There were 3 acres of land, and we were completely bewildered that the previous owners had lived there for many years and had survived on what they grew in the rocky soil. The old man had occasionally had some extra work in the quarry a couple of kilometers away. There was electricity and a telephone, but we had to fetch water from a spring about 100 meters from the house.

I was a bit upset because there was no stable, unlike the place we had looked at before, and I wanted space for the pony my father had once mentioned I might be able to have. My parents were from Copenhagen and barely knew what a horse was; they probably thought it couldn’t be harder than buying a rabbit for the kid!

However, I soon fell in love with the place, where you could go down and fish not far from the house, and I loved the big rocks you could climb on. It was then and there that I decided that as soon as I grew up, I would move to Sweden.

But what could one do after fishing in the morning, when Mom refused to fry the small fish I had caught? Well, you could walk down to the farms you had seen along the gravel road on the way to the house. Surely they must have cats if they lived like that 🙂

At the first farm, no one was home, but I had time on my side and went to the next one. I knocked on the door and asked if I could give their cat some fish if they had a cat. They did! They also had a dog, cows, pigs, and a horse!

The man, named Sven, immediately noticed my great interest and showed me around the farm. He was so incredibly kind to me, and it turned out that his children were grown and had moved to the city and were not interested in inheriting the farm, but here was someone who soaked up everything. We became very good friends, and their cats got plenty of fish, and I started taking walks with the dog, who otherwise didn’t get much exercise between hunts. I mucked out the cows’ stalls and helped as much as I could. To my great delight, he thought I should get to ride the horse, but Dolan, as the horse was called, thought otherwise.

I think she had some hormonal issues; she was what they called back then a “pissemärr” who whinnied and jumped when you did something she didn’t like. Sven had never ridden her, but she had been driven a lot. Imagine my surprise when Sven just grabbed her mane, swung his leg over her (she wasn’t small), and rode off with her. He rode her back and forth a bit and concluded that now she was broken in! Then I was lifted up, and yes, it went well.

Now he couldn’t get rid of me. Imagine having a horse you could ride. I was there every day during the entire summer vacation, helping as much as I could in exchange for a little ride.

He told me that Dolan had always been “special” with her temperament, but her mother had been the best horse he ever had. She was a real trooper; he loved that horse. He made the mistake of lending her to a neighbor once, he told me, and the neighbor had driven her so hard that she became sweaty. This was in winter, and he just let her stand in the cold, so she got laminitis and was never the same again. Poor Sven had tears in his eyes when he talked about her.

Since I was there all day, I was also invited for coffee and sometimes dinner. I couldn’t go there and starve, thought Signe. Never had I had such food. It was homemade stone oven bread with freshly churned butter, fresh strawberries from the garden, and milk straight from the cow. Even though I was a child, I felt an enormous difference when the food came straight from the source, and I enjoyed it immensely.

I hope and believe I gave something to Sven and Signe back then; they certainly gave something wonderful to me. It was an enormous sorrow when Sven died a few years later of lung cancer, probably from the hard work and the dust in the quarry. I will never forget him; he taught me a lot about the forest and the animals, and he also taught me how to milk!

In the picture, Dolan and I, with a borrowed military saddle, are riding home to visit my parents, who were standing on the steps, terrified.

A little funny chestnut!

Now I have told you about some of my great experiences and there are so many more, but today I thought I would write a little everyday story that perhaps several have experienced or something similar. It is the everyday life that should be fun, and it is what we have horses for, to experience things.

I had recently moved away from home and this was my first place that I rented and worked as a saddlemaker. It wasn’t exactly a place one would choose as a self-employed person. It was out in the woods 9 km from the nearest town, which was only a small village. I couldn’t afford much, so the place only had an outhouse and I had to fetch water from the well. There was no sewage either, so it was a big job when, for example, washing hair in the winter.

I had a small stable where we built 3 boxes. I had a couple of paddocks but not much pasture as they were rocky paddocks with trees. The only positive thing was that I had miles of forest trails to ride on without having to encounter traffic when I rode 🙂

Since it was far to people, I didn’t have many customers, but I drove a round to the riding school a few miles away once a week and picked up what needed to be repaired, both from the riding school and private individuals, so in that way, I got some work.

My good friend who was on sick leave wanted to help me make some extra money, so he had a friend who was a breeder and had some difficulty selling his horses. He had 2 chestnut stallions aged 4 and 5 that they hadn’t done anything with. They had good pedigrees and were handsome, so it probably wouldn’t be difficult to get rid of them with a little training.

We agreed on a price that I would pay when I sold them for him, so they came home with me. I also had my stallion Mackay then, but he was barely 3, so it was eagerly awaited to have someone to ride on. Training and riding them in was a chapter in itself, as I didn’t have a riding arena and could barely ride in the paddock because of all the rocks and trees, but somehow it worked. Of course, they were gelded, so it was easier to sell them. The 4-year-old was a “no brainer”, he was easy to ride, but the 5-year-old was good at bucking. I guess he had mild discomfort, but such things weren’t counted then, it was just to sit tight until he stopped 🙂 I was pretty good at staying on, so he never managed to get me off and calmed down afterwards. I was always prepared and as I said, it got better over time. The young one was sold quite quickly but I had the 5-year-old for a little longer.

My biggest problem when I was going to sell him was that everyone wanted to buy my own stallion, as he was incredibly beautiful, but he wasn’t for sale. However, it went very well to ride him eventually, and I had many nice forest rides on him. I started to relax and could ride with loose reins and enjoy. But… one beautiful day when I trusted him too much, I walked with too loose reins, then he started his “bucking series” out of nowhere and finally managed to get me off. I will never forget the look in his eyes when he turned and looked at me, where I sat in the grass, as if to say: there, I got you! I couldn’t help but laugh, and he kindly let me get up again, and he never bucked with me again. He was eventually sold, and I never received any complaints, so he probably behaved himself 🙂 It wasn’t so easy to live there in the woods all alone, but you got to know the horses in a completely different way when you only have them and nature. I lived there for 1.5 years, and I learned to appreciate running water and a toilet that I got when I moved. Everyone should live like that for a while so they can appreciate things.

Fox hunting.

Well, I was born and raised in Denmark, even though I spent all my hollidays in Sweden. I had a couple of horses and tried out a few things with them. Among other things, I had been to Dyrehaven in Klampenborg and watched the annual big Hubertus hunt on TV every year, with the royals out watching. I was there as a spectator first on foot, and then we were also there on horseback, admiring those riding the hunt and pretending it was us. It looked incredibly fun and immensely exciting, and being naturally curious, I promised myself that I would participate in it someday.

When I bought Markant, whom I renamed (he was named Fleur, which I thought sounded like a little pony mare), he was 173 cm and definitely not a small pony. I bought him cheaply because the girl who had him was afraid of him, so to test if there was any truth to him being dangerous, I rode him bareback in the forest He protested a little, but we quickly became friends, and he was a wonderful horse. He didn’t mind jumping, and I brought up the idea of participating in the Hubertus hunt.

To be able to participate in the actual Hubertus hunt, you had to complete at least 6 hunts and a fox-tail hunt, which meant you had to have jumped all the jumps. It started with a winter hunt and a spring hunt, and then the jumps became bigger and more challenging. I rode hunts every Sunday, and during the week, I trained him in dressage, rode out, and drove (of course, I also trained him to drive) so he had varied and enjoyable training.

I managed to complete the 6 hunts and then was to join the fox-tail hunt. In these hunts before, there is no winner, but it’s a pleasant hunt together, and sometimes you have lunch with the others, etc. In the fox-tail hunt, there were 2 riders carrying a fox tail on their shoulders, and the goal was to catch them when the hunt was over. I just missed grabbing the fox tail when the rider threw himself to the side. I was very disappointed that I didn’t get it, but oh well, it was super fun.

In the evening, there was dinner with everyone who had been on the hunt at a nice restaurant, and it turned out that those who had taken the fox tails were to give a schnapps to everyone at the dinner, and there were at least 70 people. At that moment, I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked my lucky stars that I hadn’t taken the tail

The big day had come, and I was to participate in the Hubertus hunt. It would be an understatement to say that I was nervous. Thousands of people in Dyrehaven, TV was there, royals were there. My biggest goal was to survive Magasindammen, where the TV always stood ready to film those who fell off into the water. Markant wasn’t afraid of the water, but you never know, he could slip or jump wrong, because there were obstacles in front of him.

Before Magasindammen, you come out onto a large plain “Erimitagen” where you can see the plain, Magasindammen, and Erimitage Castle. I’ll never forget the sight when I came out onto the plain, seeing all these riders in red jackets in a line towards the castle, and the first ones had started jumping into Magasindammen. Then you heard a murmur in the crowd, and you knew that the first one had gotten properly wet, and it turned out that one of the “foxes” riding first had fallen off his horse into the pond! TV got its good footage I made it, and I remember galloping past all those people watching, the joy I felt.

Since then, I have ridden many Hubertus hunts in Sweden, but since they only have this one hunt a year there, it’s not the same. When you’ve ridden hunts with the same people many times, you get to know them and their horses, and you have a fantastic time.

It’s something I miss from Denmark.

On the picture, it’s me and Markant.”