It's hovering around -20°C, our ducks are freezing their butts off, and Titus, CG and I went out for a walk this afternoon in the glistening snowscape. We came upon a little lake - actually chance was not involved, but it sounds better that way. At first glance it looked like a very flat snow-covered field. Only the scores of people zipping around on ice-skates and the rim of brown reeds betrayed its true status. I couldn't remember if I'd ever walked on a frozen lake - at least not without my heart in my mouth and listening out for ominous creaking sounds. I reasoned that two hundred people couldn't be wrong and sauntered out onto the ice. As we approached the middle, Mr Doom asked me if I'd 'seen the large crack'. There it was, like a halloween pumpkin's grin, leering at me. Nobody seemed concerned, but I felt a strong compulsion to leave the lake ASAP. There's a health and safety inspector lurking inside me, that's for sure. Others would call it cowardice, perhaps, or kinder people a heightened sense of self-preservation?
When we got back to our warm house I sent Gaia out for some fresh air. I'm all for liberal parenting, but too much central heating and facebook is bad for the soul. Her idea of fresh air turned out to be sitting in the shed (albeit with the door shut) for 20 minutes. Quite resourceful, I thought, although our shed is really no great shakes. It's piled high with garden furniture and straw. Still better than a freezing walk round the Bavarian block, apparently!
My last words today concern Bovinia, our adopted village. People - even locals (though not Bovinians, obviously) tend to chortle when I tell them we live here. It seems that the fun factor is sorely lacking and that things tend to revolve purely around dairy farming, log cutting and societies. Where they get this idea from I cannot imagine. Lying in bed this morning, however, listening to somebody warming up their chainsaw, I reflected that we are lucky to live in a place devoid of violence and crime, with streets safe to walk at any hour of the night, and neighbours who may drive you nuts with their curtain-twitching, but would drop anything to help you out in a crisis.
When we got back to our warm house I sent Gaia out for some fresh air. I'm all for liberal parenting, but too much central heating and facebook is bad for the soul. Her idea of fresh air turned out to be sitting in the shed (albeit with the door shut) for 20 minutes. Quite resourceful, I thought, although our shed is really no great shakes. It's piled high with garden furniture and straw. Still better than a freezing walk round the Bavarian block, apparently!
My last words today concern Bovinia, our adopted village. People - even locals (though not Bovinians, obviously) tend to chortle when I tell them we live here. It seems that the fun factor is sorely lacking and that things tend to revolve purely around dairy farming, log cutting and societies. Where they get this idea from I cannot imagine. Lying in bed this morning, however, listening to somebody warming up their chainsaw, I reflected that we are lucky to live in a place devoid of violence and crime, with streets safe to walk at any hour of the night, and neighbours who may drive you nuts with their curtain-twitching, but would drop anything to help you out in a crisis.
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