Nils wasn’t the only disaster to happen at Ängsö – Akka’s old gas stove from the 1970s (a sexy orange and brown combo and built like a metal shithouse) finally reached the point where no amount of pressing the dial could keep the oven flame burning. Rather than risk turning the whole ship into a fireball, we motored into Åkersberga to buy a new gas stove/oven. The promised day of rain proved unexpectedly dry and even sunny and not only did we pick up the new oven (on sale and reserved for Wolfgang by email), we also filled up a shopping trolley at the lovely big supermarket in the town centre and trundled it back to the quayside. Åkersberga canal has come up in the world since I was last here two years ago. 
The former industrial wasteland now sports smart new desirable canalside apartment properties and a spiffy new guest jetty, where you can moor for free for 24 hours. Wolfgang spent a happy afternoon installing his shiny new oven (in millennial silver steel rather than 1970s orange and brown) and then we spent and awful 20 minutes lugging the old oven back to the shop for them to dispose of. Wolfgang rigged up a makeshift carrying affair with some red webbing and staggered along like a sherpa ascending Everest, while I frantically held up the right side that kept threatening to slip out of its cat’s cradle. He also tried to persuade the shop to take his old fridge but without success, so Akka is still carting the corpse of the former fridge on all her journeys. Gaining access to municipal dumps is one of the problems one rarely contemplates in advance when planning a sailing holiday.
Today – Tuesday – Wolfgang had to work most of the day, so we chugged back up the canal – getting briefly stuck in the mud exactly alongside the space where our old
