A Norwegian Christmas

It was the 23rd of December - almost Christmas. In 6 hours of constant snow showers we drove from Oslo to Kvinesdal, in some cases on roads so blanketed by snow they were completely white; faint tyre tracks were the only clue of a through path. Sitting quietly in the back seat, I marvelled at scenes briefly illuminated by the car's headlights. Pine tree saplings bent over with the weight of snow-laden foliage. Dark tunnel walls glistening with ice and condensation. A brief glimpse of a frozen lake. Cottages with decorated windows projecting warm amber light.

We were travelling with Even and Eirunn, our good friends from Norway, to Eirunn's parents house. They had generously invited us to share festivities with both their families. Who could argue with the prospect of a truly white Christmas?

We learned several things during our week-long stay. First, Norwegians exchange gifts on the 24th, not the 25th. This is hardly a huge problem; in fact, it frees up all Christmas Day to 'play' with (or eat, drink, wear) your presents. Second, Norwegians tend to have two meals a day at this time of the year: a smorgasbord-style 'brunch' that is eaten around 10.30am and then a large dinner in the early evening. Third, Kellie likes herring. I mean REALLY likes herring. Fourth, and finally, Norwegians like drinking aquavit - a sort of whiskey-like spirit made from potatoes and flavoured with spices, particularly caraway. Skol!

Eirunn's parents, Kurt and Jette, own a mountain cabin in a place called Knaben - about an hour away from their home. At Even's suggestion, everyone headed up there for a few days just after Christmas. To be honest, it was hardly a cabin, at least in the way I had envisaged it. This place had four bedrooms, a deck and, wait for it, a hot tub! In the short hours of daylight, we squeezed in a wander around the village, dug a snow cave, went tobagganing (if you call a small disc of plastic under your arse a tobaggan) and checked out the old mining complex.

When the hot tub eventually reached 40 degrees, and with the air temperature sitting at minus 10 degrees, all eight of us made the dash from the house in slightly ridiculous outfits. Put it this way, never before had I thought of matching a beanie with just boardshorts and socks (thankfully used only for the shuttle run between house and tub). But with a few drinks under the belt, our fashion crimes became the height of sartorial elegance.

The few drinks might also explain why we took up the 'snow dive' challenge issued by Eirunn's dad, Kurt. As you can probably guess, a snow dive involved removing yourself from the sanctuary of the tub and leaping off the deck into a drift of snow, then scrambling back to the tub as fast as you can, with no concern for dignity or personal safety. Kurt thought it was hilarious fun. I, on the other hand, lost feeling in my nether regions for several hours.

A Christmas to remember for a long, long time - for many reasons!

Falling Leaves and Short, Grey Days...

The title says it all. It is now late Autumn in England and Winter is so close it surely is just a strong gust of wind away. The sun makes the odd cameo appearance once or twice a week, but apart from those cherished moments the days seem blanketed in a dull, cloud-filtered light.

The flipside of the cooler weather is getting to witness the change of seasons, particularly the changing hues of leaves. In Didsbury it is accentuated by all the parks, wood-land and tree-lined avenues. It has been fun walking through drifts of leaves and seeing great textured carpets of red, yellow and brown scattered across lawns.

Today Kellie and I wandered through Didsbury Park, which four months ago had trees in full bloom like those that grace the banner of this blog. It is rather bare now - the flowers and leaves of the trees have disappeared, leaving a collection of ragged wooden skeletons behind. No wonder badgers hibernate for the winter - there's nothing to see, and neither the light nor time to do so anyway!