Mackinder in DK

The struggles of becoming a bilingual family in Copenhagen.

Summer House of Horrors

One of the more surprising aspects of Danish culture I’ve encountered is the natives’ obsession with the summer house. If you didn’t know, this is a mainstay of holidays across Scandinavia. It’s a cultural institution. Every single Dane I’ve ever met either owns or has regular access to a summer house. But I’ll be honest, I don’t really get it.

I’ve been to several over the years and I find them rather bleak and depressing. While the wealthy may own palatial summer houses, most are rudimentary. Entirely wooden, basic facilities, old rundown furniture, outdated appliances, a couple of rooms, a rudimentary kitchen, a small patch of outdoor space, access to forest or beach, and thousands upon thousands of dead insects.

I know this sounds snobbish. I must be missing something. As a Brit the nearest equivalent is a caravan holiday in Devon or a beach hut on the Norfolk coast. Maybe this is their equivalent, only sprinkled with more of that precious Danish fairy dust known as hygge. The Danes love them. They use them all year round, even just for the weekend. Not only the Danes, but all Scandinavians. Germans too.

Look, I have no problem with rustic getaways minus creature comforts. And the current climate means we all need to lean into budget holidays. While I’m not exactly the outdoorsy type, a week in a tent or a caravan appeals far more than a summer house. I’m still trying to put my finger on what I don’t like about it. It may also be because most kit out their summer houses to copy their regular home, but all this does for me, however, is highlight just how much a summer house falls short of cosy domesticity. You arrive and it’s either a furnace or a fridge, covered in dust. It’s all a bit bleak and broken. I’d take a staycation over this any day. And that’s even cheaper.

“I spend the whole time childproofing the place from deadly booby traps like exposed wires, rusty nails, broken floorboards, plunging, vertiginous stairs and literal hornets’ nests of pain and woe”.

Adrian is a part time actor, author, comic book fan and father of two.

Summer houses are also considered ideal for family holidays. Again, perfectly sound in theory, but every time I’ve been persuaded to take the kids to a summer house holiday I find it very stressful. I spend the whole time childproofing the place from deadly booby traps like exposed wires, rusty nails, broken floorboards, plunging, vertiginous stairs and literal hornets’ nests of pain and woe. To make it worse, we have nearly always been kindly lent the summer house from friends or family so I smile sweetly and nod when they bang on about how wonderful it is to have one and how lucky we are to have given our children the opportunity to re-enact the more harrowing scenes from a Saw movie.

It’s a sign of status to own a summer house. Some people are surprised when we say we don’t have one. Truth is, I don’t want one. And now the world has opened up, I see even less of a need for one. I suspect, however, when people I know read this, we’ll never be invited to use one ever again. Which is totally fair. The search for the perfect Scandi holiday continues…