I think if you asked most people – or most English urban dwellers – their idea of a perfect countryside dwelling, it would probably be a cosy little place next to a lake with fish and a boat and surrounded by nature. With cats.
That’s apparently where Milka lives. Her dad caught a trout this morning, cooked it with a little salt and pepper, and it was absolutely delicious.
There’s not much to say about the journey. I had a first class seat on the train which was well worth the extra couple quid: I got a free gin and tonic, a lovely seat, free wifi and free cake and I would have got a free meal if I’d stayed on past Peterborough.
I got to Stansted Airport about nine o’clock and spent ten minutes wandering around and soaking in the airport vibe: foreign voices, dimly-lit late-night restaurants, bleary-eyed travellers.
I secured a great perch for the night on a bench to sleep, but I couldn’t sleep, so I went and got a burger from Burger King (six quid and twenty pence for a burger and fries!) and wasted some money on the amusements. When I got back my bench was taken – so were all the other long benches with sleepers. Germans were laying out sleeping bags and mats. I tried sleeping on the floor, but a payphone kept ringing, so I moved further down the building and got an hour or two laid out as best I could on a bench with inconvenient armrests. Eventually I could go through security to airside. I had breakfast at Wetherspoons (six quid!!!) and tried looking for some electronic duty-free crap to waste money on, but luckily they didn’t have any miniature Bluetooth keyboards.
It was weird, after having only met four Finnish people in my entire life, to find myself queuing for the plane with a hundred of them. The plane was apparently the 60th 737-800 delivered to Ryanair, so it came in fancy blue Dreamliner livery, airliner nerds. I slept a little on the plane, and we arrived early at Tampere-Pirkkala Airport.
It was hot. The airport was charmingly tiny; immigration control was two police officers in booths, and then I was out and free in Finland. I went to the vessa (which I suspect is a Mr Doovde-style reading of “WC”) and then bumped into Milka almost by accident. 
We drove to a local supermarket (first thing I see in Finland – a naked beer-bellied rollerskater) and got some supplies and beer. Finland is a country where you can’t buy spirits except in government-run Alko shops, but you can get beer in the supermarket- – they had 1l cans, amazingly. Beer apparently comes in four different types, called Beer I, III, IVa and IVb depending on alcohol content.
I slept on the way back to Ruovesi. Milka’s parents house is amazing; a former orphanage a short walk from the lakeside, with a fantastic den and pool (as in billiards) room and obviously a sauna.
We went down to the lakeside for a swim (well, I waded, because it was still pretty chilly despite the heat). Then we went to a bar on a boat, where people were tombstoning from a nearby tower. It was so perfect; people just chilling by the riverside. I had a lonkero – gin and grapefruit, and it was delicious. Then we visited Milka’s grandma Arja, who like all grandmothers laid on coffee and a light snack of rye bread, salami, cucumber, tomato, a bread called pulla, cake, and apple swiss roll. And ice cream. She was so kind!
After that, back home, and fishing by the sunset. I’ve never gone fishing before, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy to get the hang of. I caught some fish! but being a girl, I had to chuck them back because I felt bad. And then a quick sweat in the sauna, and bed.
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