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Sweden is a cold, cold country. It's beautiful, but it's cold. Deep frozen moose, Arctic foxes and lynxes with frostbitten paws abound. I know this because my friend who lives in London, and is an 'it' boffin, regularly tells me what the weather is doing just outside my door. He has some desktop widget on his computer that tells him the temperature in various parts of the world and he delights in informing me on a weekly basis that I am living in a cold and frequently damp environment, in contrast to his own existence in West London where he is saved from drowning in his own perspiration only by air conditioning.

In vain do I tell him that the Swedish flags are cracking, the tarmac is melting and my digital thermometer (100 kronor at the local supermarket) is showing temperatures in excess of 30 degrees Celsius. But here I present my one last rebuttal to the constant stream of meteorological misinformation that is emanating from Chiswick, namely one perfectly ordinary compact disc case that I left on the parcel shelf of my car.



John