With Sweden named as the first country available on prescription, there’s a lot more to it than just forests, saunas and cinnamon buns, says Malmöbased columnist Kerry Hudson

Recently, I was unlucky enough to transit through Dante's seventh circle of hell, that of violence against neighbors, yourself, God, nature and art. I'm sure there are many of you who will recognise this as London's Stansted Airport.

It was my first time in the UK in 10 months, and I was shocked to see how pallid everyone looked under the harsh airport lighting. I watched in a sort of morbid fascination as someone shoved me out of the way to get a Mars bar in WH Smith, a dad screamed at his kid and, in a small cafe over a £5 cup of coffee, I overheard Olympic levels of snark directed towards each other. I’ve no doubt in a Scottish airport, things would have been quite different but sadly that wasn’t an option.

However, I was lucky enough to come home to Malmö on the coast of southern Sweden, just over the bridge from Copenhagen. Sweden isn’t heaven, but it’s a good few rungs up the celestial ladder.

This week my days involved cycling - on a fantastic network of cycle paths - to have a swim in the cold, clean Baltic sea, taking my son to a city farm where he had his first pony ride and then heading to our neighbours for a “mushroom supper” they’d foraged that day. There were no pictures of the evening because........

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