An ABBA odyssey

Nathan and I are currently sitting in Stockholm Arlanda Airport. We’ve been in the city for two days and are presently buzzing like a pair of over-excited bees. Here’s the story...

We’re actually here as a direct result of the hell that Nathan has recently been put through by the so-called social justice warriors. There’s much to write about on that front, and all in good time, but suffice to say that the extreme hatred and misandry which landed on his shoulders coupled with the grotesque lies which were told about him have generated an outpouring of absolute love. One of my oldest friends was so incensed that he organised for Nathan to review the Pop House Hotel in Stockholm in the National newspaper he works for. He knows that we’re both life-long ABBA fans and felt that a couple of days in Stockholm would give us a bit of a break from the mayhem and some joy in what was becoming a mirthless existence. 

We had to get up at 3am yesterday. This followed an entirely sleepless night for me the day before, so when the alarm went off, I neither knew my own name, nor cared what it was! 

I slept through much of the taxi journey to the airport. I remember seeing a giant lit up billboard for the UK Jewish Film Festival looming in the gloom by the side of the road and feeling more than a little proud to be working on it this year as its tour coordinator. 

I slept through much of the flight as well, which is about 2 1/4 hours. I remember looking down at the sea at one point and thinking how blue it looked. I drank half a cup of tea and then sparked out again. 

The first thing I noticed as we took the train from Arlanda into Central Stockholm was the colour of the trees. Autumn has very much arrived in Sweden and, this year, most of the trees are bright yellow. Apparently this isn’t always the case. A mild autumn means that the tree leaves don’t get as far as turning orange or red before falling. You learn something new every day. Actually I learned about ninety new things in the last two days! 

What certainly occurred to me as we neared Stockholm was that we were arriving in the city at the time that ABBA must have shot their iconic Greatest Hits “park bench” album cover. The one with Benny and Frida snogging, Björn reading a paper and Agnetha, in a cap, looking really sad. There are autumn leaves on the ground. Bright orange ones as it happens, which must mean the autumn of 1975 was a harsher, colder affair! 

It struck me, as we started our epic walk to the hotel from the train station, that this was my first ever trip to Scandinavia, let alone Sweden. Nathan has been to Finland, Sweden and Denmark, and, despite only being in Stockholm for 24 hours, some ten years ago, the place had made a massive impression on him and he’d longed to return with me for an ABBA pilgrimage. 

Our first stop was Strömbron, a bridge which links the mainland to the Gamle Stan, or Old Town island. Lasse Hallström, who directed all of ABBA’s pop videos, chose the middle of this particular bridge to mount his camera for the final tracking shot of the 1978 Summer Night City video, which happens to be my favourite ABBA song. The shot was made in the wee small hours after a night of filming on various clubs and streets around the city. It’s a forty second shot which slowly moves across a panorama of the city. The sky is still light, as you might expect on a summer’s night in a Scandinavian country. 

I got the video up on my phone and we had a great time recreating the shot on Nathan’s phone - literally second for second. The astonishing thing is that very little has changed in the view. Some of the boats in the harbour even seem to be the same ones, moored in the same places, 41 years after Hallström filmed them! 

We had lunch in a cafe at the Scenkonst Musett. We think it’s a sort of theatre museum, but it was just a rather nice-looking cafe in the right place at the right time. We had avocado on rye bread, which was delicious, before eating some sort of carob crap, which reminded me of the whole-food nonsense we periodically ate when I was a child. I think it was raw food. I’m not altogether sure what raw food is, but I think it’s meant to be endured rather than enjoyed. Very much like modern classical music! Emperor’s New Clothes and all that!

From the theatre museum, we walked to the Great Synagogue in Stockholm. A tiny, unrealistic part of me was hoping we’d be able to have a peek inside. Sometimes these grand synagogues are open to the public as museums when they’re not being used for worship, but the doors were very firmly shut. It’s certainly hugely impressive from the outside! I’m told about 5000 Jewish people live in Stockholm. 

We walked through a stunning tree-lined walkway on our way to Djurgården (the Island where Pop House Hotel is situated) and immediately learned that any tree in Stockholm is stunning at this time of year. To make matters even more glorious, we discovered, after it got dark, that trees get lit up spectacularly at night with orange and purple lights. 

It is almost impossible to go wrong in the city when it comes to views. The streets are spotlessly clean - I literally didn’t see a single piece of litter - and the architecture is stunning. Filigree church steeples poke up behind ornate town houses, many of which have their own somewhat eccentric little towers and spires. Most of the streets seem to end at rivers, canals and harbours and the countryside snakes its way right into the city centre. Djurgården is mostly parkland and forest. 

We crossed Djurgårdsbron onto the island and immediately took ourselves to the rather charming little cemetery, Galärvarvs Kyrkogården, which is where Stikken Anderson, the “fifth member” of ABBA is buried. Stig actually co-wrote quite a lot of the early ABBA songs, and was also the band’s manager. His shrewd, maverick and uncompromising management style was largely responsible for the absolute success (both artistic and financial) of ABBA.  

His grave is simple and classy, essentially a block of granite with a small treble clef at the top. It was rather moving to be there. I am hugely grateful that all four members of ABBA are still alive, but one should never forget Stig’s great impact on the band and the huge love the band had for him. 

The Pop House Hotel is housed in the same building as The ABBA Museum, and as you approach, the first thing you hear is glorious ABBA music. As you might expect, they don’t just play the hits. I heard all sorts of wonderful curios. Tiger, I Am Just A Girl, That’s Me... Fabulous. 

We were put in the ABBA Gold room, which is lined with genuine Gold discs celebrating 3 million, 8 million, then 20 million sales of this classic album. The room overlooks Gröne Lund, the amusement park where ABBA often performed in the early stages of their career. 

We have been accompanied throughout our trip by an excellent book called The ABBA Guide to Stockholm, by Sara Russell, which takes readers on a guided tour of every site in the city which might be of interest to the keenest ABBA fans. The majority of documented spots are places where the band did photo shoots. Throughout their fame, the band remained incredibly loyal to the city. Where others might have moved to LA to live the life, ABBA brought up their young families in rather humble houses in and around the capital. 

Our first sojourn took us to a spot, not a great distance from our hotel...

It had to happen. We had to pay homage to the park bench where the Greatest Hits album cover was shot. The book very careful explains which tree and which bench to look for in a sea of trees and benches. The tree is the same, with its familiar jaunty angle, but the bench has long since been replaced with something a great deal less charming. Of course, we couldn’t resist using the wizardry of our phones to create our own version of the album cover, with me playing Björn and Frida and Nathan playing Agnetha and Benny. People passing by must have thought we’d gone quite mad, but it was worth it for the quirky result! 

From the bench, we walked to the Old Town and Baggensgåten, the street where Benny and Frida had shared a flat in the mid 70s. The Gamle Stan is a charming island, covered in buildings, many of which must be four or five hundred years old. The roads between the buildings are more like alleyways - way too small and twisting to get a car down - and the whole island is a giant hill, which means you spend your time going up and down steep slopes and steps. We saw a rather charming sight on Baggensgården, namely a little girl carrying a violin walking up the street holding hands with her father, who was also carrying a violin.

We came across the most amazing little flea market on the corner of a pair of little alleyways. It goes by the name of Eddie’s Lopis (or something akin to that) and it’s one of the most fascinating places I’ve ever visited. Two men sit inside the shop all day and all night. One of them is Eddie himself, who must be in his 70s. The other is David, who is probably 30 and was wearing his pyjamas. 

It’s one of those junk shops which is so jam-packed with stock that a simple movement might bring a whole heap of objects cascading down. The floorboards creek and bounce up and down. The whole building seems to shake with every footstep! 

Another curious aspect to this Bagpuss-like shop is that not everything is for sale. If you want to buy something, David and Eddie have to decide first if it wants to leave the building. If they’re okay for this to happen, they then decide on a price, one assumes based on whether they like you or not. I’d say that a pair of cufflinks and a glass paperweight for £15 implies they liked us rather a lot! 

David took us down into the basement of the shop to show us the space which had been run by Eddie as a bohemian club from the 60s to the early 80s. No alcohol or drugs were allowed at Klubb Kamelen, but there was belly dancing and mud wrestling and was only for the “open-minded”! It sounds exactly like my sort of place. The vaulted ceiling of the basement was covered in beautiful murals of serpents and icons from every conceivable world religion. David took great delight in telling us he was part-Jewish and that he was thrilled when the Jewish Museum opened up in the old synagogue next door. 

They didn’t accept cards, so David said he’d walk us to the cash point - just as well, as I don’t think we would have found it unaided. We noticed that the Jewish Museum was still open and I said I was going to pop in on our way back to see if they had a kippah. I always like to buy a pair of cufflinks and a kippa wherever I travel in the world. David told me that he had a beautiful kippah which I might be able to buy from him. I said I would never deprive him of such a thing and he said he was relieved because it was precious to him. 

We paid for our goods, and gave the same amount again as a gift towards the upkeep of their important building. David was hugely touched by the gesture and walked us back up to the Jewish Museum where we discovered they didn’t have kippahs for sale. David suddenly darted back into his shop, re-emerging a moment later holding his beloved kippah, which he thrust into my hand, and insisted I keep. His belief is that, one day, another kippah will turn up that he’ll love just as much. I will, of course, send one through the post. 

The entire experience demonstrated just how wonderful some people are and I felt so thrilled that this magical building had called us in. 

We ate an evening meal at Hotell Rival, which belongs to Benny from ABBA, and served us a delicious beetroot and goat’s cheese burger. 

We must have walked for miles and miles during the day, but it’s no hardship because the city feels so calm and safe. We didn’t stumble upon any loutish behaviour, any drunk people, anyone skulking about in the shadows. Even the drivers are polite. More often than not, if you’re waiting by the side of the road to cross, they’ll pull up for you! 

We walked home through the old town. A carrillon echoed around the darkened streets. The perfect end to a perfect day. 

We slept like the dead in a bed so soft I thought we were in a cloud! 

The first thing on the agenda today was a trip out to Djurgårdsbrunnsbron at the opposite end of the island on which we were staying. It’s hugely rural out there. A woman rode past us on a horse as we got out of our Uber. 

The trees in the area looked absolutely stunning, and the leaves were falling from them like golden specks of snow with every breath of wind. A yellow carpet covered the ground as far as the eye could see. I have seldom, if ever, seen such a glorious autumnal display. 

We were out there to find the rain shelter where the cover for the first ABBA single was shot. It’s a quirky little building: a sort of cross between a covered bus stop and a band stand. It is exactly as it was when ABBA posed there in 1970. It could probably do with a lick of paint and a bit of TLC, because it’s looking a little down-at-heel. Someone had obviously been sleeping there the night before, because there were signs that a fire had been made from pieces of wood close by. 

We walked back towards the hotel along a winding path beside the river through trees which were now glowing in the sun like molten precious metals. 

It was at this point that a very special day became utterly magical...

We have been beautifully looked after on this trip by the wonderful folk at Visit Stockholm, in particular a most charming woman called Birgitta. 

Now here’s the thing. In my view, the most iconic and startling image of ABBA is on the front of The Visitors album. I actually bought the album when it came out in 1981. I must have been 7, and I remember sitting on a sofa in our house in Higham Ferrers staring at the album cover for long hours. ABBA fans reading this blog will remember that the album cover is surprisingly dark. The band are pictured in a room full of paintings, with one, of Eros, perhaps fifteen feet high. The band members are all standing apart from each other, looking in different directions, with not a smile between them. It’s their last studio album. They were tired. The two couples had got divorced. They plainly wanted to be anywhere other than where they were and the surroundings utterly reflect this bleakness. 

The image was taken in a studio at Skansen, which is the world’s first open air museum. Skansen is like the Weald and Downland Museum: filled with historical houses which have been rescued, brick-by-brick, from elsewhere in the country. The studio where where the image was taken had belonged to an artist called Julius Kronberg. When he died, his widow bequeathed the building to Skansen and it was rebuilt on the site, compete with all of its contents and art work. Fascinating, really.

I had always wanted to see the room. I know the image backwards. But when I realised I was going to Stockholm, and started researching the places I wanted to visit, I realised that the room wasn’t open to the public, so we cheekily emailed Birgitta and asked if there was any chance she could pull a few strings for the sake of my inner 7-year old. 

...And we learned yesterday that she had done us proud, that we were to meet her at the entrance to Skansen at noon whereupon we’d be smuggled into the area for a private viewing of the space. 

Walking into the studio itself had the same profound impact on me as I’d experienced walking into the Pepys Library at Magdalene College, Cambridge. 

There was a heaviness in there. A deep, dark, sad, mysterious atmosphere. The curtains were pulled open, and a shaft of dusty light shot into the room, immediately lighting the top half of the famous painting of Eros. The moment literally took my breath away. The painting itself is impressive enough, but the connection to ABBA, the sadness of the occasion when their picture was taken and the knowledge that so very few people had walked into the space since that time, filled me with all sorts of emotions. I instantly felt like a child again. I saw myself in 1981, listening to the album on a loop, knowing it was darker and more mature than the ABBA I was used to, feeling uneasy and worrying somehow. It was a truly overwhelming moment. 

Nathan decided to take my photograph standing in the places the members of ABBA had stood. I was rather tickled by the lady from Skansen (Caroline) who’d let us into the building. As my picture was taken she repeatedly told me to look more serious. “Glum, glum, glum...” she kept saying! 

The delightful Birgitta took us for lunch and we had the most stunning mushroom and potato dumpling dish in lingonberries. Birgitta told us that it was mushroom season so we could expect something spectacular - and she was not lying. I loved the fact that she was aware of the seasons of various plants and fungi, but that felt Swedish, somehow. The Swedes feel earthier than the Brits. More aware of nature. Perhaps nature, with its long, cold winter nights makes itself more apparent. 

This afternoon, we went to the ABBA Museum, which is a really special place. Like the best museums, it works on different levels. If you like ABBA for the shiny clothes and the big hits, you’ll walk out feeling thrilled. If you need to delve deeper, there’s more stuff for you. Benny’s diary from the time they won Eurovision is displayed. Who knew that Agnetha got very ill with a virus the day after the contest, and performed on Top of the Pops with a ludicrously high temperature? I also didn’t realise quite how much ABBA had to battle the radical left wing climate in Sweden in the 70s which was hugely against anything representing populist “bourgeois” culture. ABBA, with their glamorous costumes and “vacuous” lyrics were seen as the enemy. They were so hated that they weren’t even invited to attend the Eurovision (in Sweden) the year after they’d won, and the same powerful anti-bourgeois lobby actually managed to withdraw Sweden from Eurovision in 1976 - the year ABBA’s international career took off. 

We met Caroline, the manager of the ABBA museum at 5pm, essentially to get some tit bits of information to potentially add to Nathan’s review. 

At one point she mentioned sending Björn an email which made our ears prick up. “Are you in touch with him regularly?” We asked. “Yes, of course...” came the reply. Our hearts started pounding at the thought! 

Nathan suddenly did something which mortified me. “Ben,” he said, “do you have a copy of the London Requiem with you?” He knew I’d stuffed one into my bag on leaving the house because, well, you never know who you’re going to meet! I went bright red and nodded. Nathan spoke to Caroline, “when you next see Björn, could you possibly hand him a copy of Benjamin’s album?” I wanted the floor to swallow me up. “Of course” she said, “why don’t you write him a note? I have another meeting now, but leave the CD at reception and I’ll get it to him.” 

So, we started to scribble a note, leaning against an unoccupied desk in the hotel reception. A few minutes later, Caroline reappeared. “I think” she said, “that you should give the CD to Björn in person. He happens to be on his way here, and I just called him and told him there are two very charming gentlemen here who would love to meet you...” 

I went into shock. Nathan burst into tears and hugged her. 

And five minutes later, Björn Ulveaus, one of my absolute icons, walked into the reception in a beautiful, grey frock coat saying “Ben and Nathan” whilst proffering his hand. 

It was surreal, beautiful, amazing, awe-inspiring. Björn is everything you want him to be. Kind. Charming. Interested. Interesting. 

We burbled as you might expect. I handed him the requiem and said his music had inspired me. I told him that, as a writer, I considered myself to be the love child of ABBA and Vaughan Williams. He laughed. I suddenly realised that he probably didn’t know who Vaughan Williams was! 

Nathan showed Björn his ABBA tattoo and then the picture of us on the park bench, which he found hugely amusing. He also told us he never remembered much about the photo shoots as he always hated them but that on the park bench shoot, the newspaper he was reading was something he’d found in a dustbin next to the bench! Part of the great joy of that image is the story it seems to tell. Agnetha looks so sad because her husband Björn is reading a paper whilst, next to them, Benny and Frida are snogging passionately.  To discover that this wonderful little story wasn’t planned at all, is fascinating, and wonderful, and you heard it here first!! 

We left the museum walking on air and, for the journey home, kept drifting into happy thoughts. We got lost on our way to the train station. At the airport we were forced to go though security twice, because, whilst searching for food, we managed to leave the departures area!! Head in the clouds, you see! 

What an extraordinary day! Thank you Stockholm. Your city is stunning. Your people are charming and kind beyond all words. You have made two men very very happy.