HYGGETOPIA

I’m in Stockholmhaven again. I’m people-watching. This is definitely the place, it seems, for horizontal striped jumpers, hipster glasses, and posh coats worn by young, attractive couples who’ve brought their toddlers along.

What in the world am I doing here?

Observing. I’ve come to realise, I think, that most of us are after that sustained feeling of cosy warmth, wherever we are. And the thought of it is comforting: the soft glow of downward lamps or the smell of freshly baked bread; there’s hot coffee, cinnamon buns, plush seating, and neat storage. There are old books in Swedish and new books in English, and plump cushions and fake grass up the wooden wall, and the Interminable Loop of Impossible Swedes on the big screen by the sofas.

I’ve gone on about the loop before, I know.

It’s 20 minutes and 41 seconds long (I sat here timing it) and for some people, it could easily be a window into a Scandi-paradise, a sort of Twenty-First Century Asgard, in which the lingonberries flow wild and free, and the net-caught salmon is beautifully lit pink against the backdrop of a crystal, sparkling lake. In Hyggetopia, no-one is late, angry, sad or upset; everyone laughs and loves and eats and cooks together until the sun goes down, and they all sit on the beach wearing warm jumpers under fairy lights, dreaming of hashtags and likes on Instagram.

I’ve got nothing against it. I’m here too, remember, trying to fit in.

My guess is that as the world out there gets darker and more frightening, we, but particularly young people, are drawn in to the warmth and the light of all that is the opposite. A war is brewing far away, in a land that’s already had its share of that. We can’t stop it, but we can curl into a nook or a hammock. Terrible forces are at work, polarising everyone from left to right and race to race. We can’t depose them on our own, and arguing is painful and pointless sometimes, but we can switch off fakebook and light a candle or two. We have those we love. They have us. That’s what matters in Hyggetopia.

I’m not knocking it. I’d love to create it in my own home too - or at least a bit of it. And maybe I can, if I actually go there instead of hanging around in Stockholmhaven on a Friday night. But there is a part of me, sitting here in front of the Interminable Loop, that wonders whether I’ll ever make it to the land of rosy out-of-focus backgrounds on my own. And there’s another part of me too, that wonders if it’s real at all, or if it ever was.