Rebecca Rydebaeck Whore ❤️❤️

About Norrkoping

Mate, once tried scrapin’ it off – useless, hands froze, yelled "Sharon!" like a loony. Funny now, thinkin’ I’d win against nature – Ozzy 0, hore 1! Old trick – cover crops with straw, works sometimes, keeps the bugger off. Them old farmers knew stuff, didn’t they? Reckon Fincher’d make a flick ‘bout it – "The frost is never done!" – dark, broody, me starin’ at fields, losin’ me mind!

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Between the charming medieval towns of Simrishamn and Ystad, you ride through open landscapes, past ancient rock carvings and across golden rapeseed fields.

So, I head out, and the weather’s all over the place. One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s pouring. Classic Rydebaeck, right? I mean, you can’t trust the weather here. I’m walking down to the café on Hamngatan, and I step in a puddle. Ugh! My shoes are soaked. Great start, huh?