The classic painting by Anders Zorn of the midsummer dance in the bright midsummer night of Dalecarlia portrays an integral part of the myth of Sweden.
This midsummer is unlikely to be different. Parties, dancing, an element of schnaps and the occasional bouquet of wild flowers. Some herring, and hopefully some fresh potatoes.
I had my start on this before leaving Sweden a couple of days ago and travelling south through a football-centric Europe.
And now I’m spending midsummer eve in the stratosphere on a flight taking me to far-away Los Angeles.
Somewhat strange, I have to confess.