Living in a time warp

I can't quite shake off the feeling that we live on a film set.  As we drove home yesterday evening, we came upon yet another dirndl/lederhosen crowd moving slowly through the village.  This time, they were heading for the Mother's Day concert in the community centre.  It is hard to decide whether all the dressing up is creepy or quaint - perhaps a bit of both.  Ironic it certainly is, however, when you consider that school uniforms are rejected here as being too reminiscent of bygone, more sinister uniformed groups, yet people are still parading in clothes that would not look out of place in a 1930s photograph.

We were so tired from our hike up to the Devil-Place-Head mountain that the very thought of a concert was too much, particularly as it was the same oompah-pah brass band from last week's maypole extravaganza.   It is one thing to stand around in the street listening, as you can edge away unnoticed (or so you hope) when things get boring.  But at a concert you would be trapped.  The mountain, by the way, was amazing and fulfilled all my expectations.  Even the children liked it, as it involved 'real' climbing at the end.  My heart was in my mouth as I watched them teetering along a foot-wide path, sheer drops on each side.  This particular summit was really narrow.  There were already five or six people clustering around the cross when we got there and much politeness and sureness of foot (as warned in the tour guide) was required to stop anyone falling off.  Even with all this, one guy managed to bash his head on the cross as he adjusted his shoe.  What on earth was that, he cried, rubbing the wound, it was surely the devil himself.  We all chortled.  Shouldn't have really, but it is quite funny to knock yourself on top of the head when you are already on top of a very high mountain.  I bet he's still feeling silly!

Anyway, there wasn't much more to do up there so we picked our way back down along a horribly thin ridge, back to the relative safety of an animal track.  How I hoped to spot a real mountain goat, and how thrilled I was when I saw three of them, admittedly at a great distance, grazing in the forest below.  They moved off pretty sharpish when they sensed us, however.  We finished our trip in style, as always, at Burger King.  There's something about spending all day in the open air that makes us crave fast food.  Knowing the fridge was empty was also a contributing factor.  For the record, I don't recommend the spicy cheese sticks.