TO live dangerously in Scandinavia, all you have to do is cross the road while the red man is still flashing. Not only does it annoy the waiting locals but confuses the hell out of them.
Take a trip to Copenhagen and try it out. While you're ther
e, catch a bus that's bang on time, scarf some delicious pickled fish and buy yourself a PH lamp to hang above your dining table just like every other Northern European.
Bored yet? Think how the Swedes must have felt on those long, long winter nights until, in 1974, they won the Eurovision song contest and unleashed some unrelenting cheer into the world.
Although ABBA's lyrics may have the tang of cynicism and world-weariness, their tunes are bright, sunny and eminently hummable. And on a cold, wet night in Edinburgh, ABBA Mania is just the antidote to another miserable summer.
The cast's dubious Swedish accents may owe more to the flat suburbs of Rotterdam than any fjord and with a mere five glittering costume changes there certainly wasn't even enough sparkly blue spandex for a small, appreciative gnome. But the sentiment was there and so was a heap of enthusiastic participation from an audience mostly made up of hen parties and 40th birthdays.
As Benny, Agnetha, Anni-Frid and Bjorn took their time warming into the set, the blue sequined and white satin clad spectators lapped it up. By the time Dancing Queen shimmied around, there was real fire to the band's performance and the audience was leading the sing-a-long. Bring on Mamma Mia!
The full article contains 276 words and appears in Edinburgh Evening News newspaper.
