Love it. When we lived in Stockholm, Sweden in the early seventies, there was an Italian pizza restaurant catercorner to the Opera House. The Opera Källaren, the opera cellar, is my recollection of its name.
Really good pizza and wonderful coleslaw. We would come into town from the suburbs on Sunday morning for church and then, on occasion, have lunch at the Opera Källaren. Family, food, fun conversation. Good memories.
Funny how memories link together. We had dinner there one evening. Leaving, we were walking towards wherever we had parked the car. At the opposite end of the block from the Opera Källaren, there was a high-end antique store with a large display window. On that particular evening, the display was an antique, and large, wood model sailing ship of the 18th century. It was impressive and my older sister and I both remarked on it.
"Wow", she said. "What is that? Three feet long?"
"No", I replied. "More like a yard." So pleased to make the absurd distinction between three feet and a yard and to also work in the almost pun by using yard in a description of a ship with yard-arms. I have always enjoyed word play. Even at the expense of a punch in the shoulder from an older sister.
Here is the Opera Källaren, today. The entrance is at the lower left and to the right is the front of the Opera House.
Pretty much exactly as a I remember it. Recalling my father shepherding us in through that entrance on cold and windy winter days when even at mid-day it was pretty dark. Stamping the snow off our feet in the small foyer, shaking moisture off our winter coats and hanging them up there in the entrance. The wafting scent of hot pizza. The chatter of happy patrons.
Rich memories.
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