I’m just back fae a trip to Gothenburg, hame to Dundee in time for the holidays.
The Swedes have got me right into the Christmas spirit. And I’d love to see us share some of their great ideas in Courier country.
I’m no sure about you, but after a year that started with Omicron shutdowns, has been punctuated by European war, monarchical death and economic decline, and is ending in a frostbit winter of food banks, a bit of general cheer could go a long way.
The Swedish approach is one of maximum cosiness, and a unified defiance of the cold and of the dark.
The municipality play their part.
The main shopping streets are strung with soft white lights.
They arnae spectacular, but they’re stylish and lend the scene a warmth.
Beneath the lights, shops do their bit too.
Sunk into the winter drifts are big, long-burning candles in tins, flickering boldly in the snow.
In the dark mornings and later afternoons, these are useful indicators to say whether a shop is open or not.
Street vendors – still doing a trade out in the -9 – get wood-fire braziers going.
Charity shops, antique shops and department stores all go mad for the season, piling up the festive gifts on shelves and in window displays.
The thin arctic air of the high street is hung with a woodsmoke scent that speaks of Christmas every bit as much as the lights above it and the candles below.
Swedish Christmas lights displays start at home
The nicest touches – or, rather, my favourite features of the Swedish winter scene – are the most common ones.
In many windows are hung big paper stars, as wide as a child’s arm span, and illuminated from within with bright lights.
These stars, cheaply available at corner shops and supermarkets, turn looming blank concrete apartment blocks into skyscraper constellations in the night sky.
Each star states: in this house we are cosy, and we’re making the most of these dark, cold nights.
Closer up, there’s another wee heart warmer of a tradition.
As you walk down the cobbles of the old town streets, you see on windowsills painted wooden horses.
The models are very simple, carved from rough wood.
Rare 19th Century childrens folk art rocking horse. #newstock #homealchemy #swedish #folkart #19thcentury #rockinghorse #childrens #Sweden pic.twitter.com/YL3cSoq2rW
— Home Alchemy (@HomeAlchemy) January 10, 2017
The children in the home often paint the wooden horses themselves before putting them in the window.
They are a centuries-old wintertime tradition, in the manner of carving a pumpkin or neep at Halloween.
We could all do more with Dundee Christmas lights
So, what of all these excellent Scandinavian innovations would suit us?
Of course, we already do municipal Christmas lights.
The Dundee city centre ones have got a bit of a brutal slagging on social media recently.
They arnae absolutely blockbusters. Neither’s the Winterfest stuff.
But Christmas spirit cannae be enforced by the local government.
It’s absolutely up to us.
Already, individual houses flare up their streets with joyful displays.
The family of Sara Craighead are a great example.
Their Broughty Ferry garden and house glow with decorations, in memory of their lost daughter and sister, and in defiance of the dark.
We cannae all out on such elaborate displays.
Not least because they’d have the leccy meter spinning like a rev counter.
But we should lean into making wee windae displays more common.
The electric candle arrays that you see about are a decent start. But the stars in Sweden have a homespun charm.
Maybe get the bairns to make wee snowflake chains and hang them with some fairy lights. Or personalise a lampshade with decorations.
Imagine a fine fire pit at the Winterfest wonderland, where folk could scorch and singe marshmallows on sticks.
It would make the whole thing live and breath a bit more. And the smell of a wood fire on a dark night is a fine thing.
Christmas spirit comes from within
The thing that really made the Swedish winter experience stand out, beyond all the individual artefacts of Christmas cheer, was the communal agreement that the folk simply would not let the dark grind them down.
Some locals have said the lights 'aren't traditional enough' – what are your thoughts? https://t.co/VlpQh8QkCs
— The Courier (@thecourieruk) December 13, 2022
There’s even less sunlight there than here.
The snow lies thicker and lingers longer.
Yet the night streets are dotted with joggers out getting their miles in, and pensioners out in grippy shoes popping oot for the messages.
Cyclists fit spiked winter tyres to their bicycles and keep up their routines.
We cannae make Dundee City Cooncil put on a Christmas lights display comparable with the world centres.
Not least because to go toe to toe with Tokyo would literally bankrupt us.
But we can use the thrawness inherent in east-coasters.
We can refuse to be downed by the depressive weight of the dark, and the fear of the bills.
We can put a wee light in our windows, and shine out into our city that gleam of solidarity.
And we can keep each others chins up, keep on keeping on, however bad things may seem.
