(no subject)
Currently mzdt, tjej and miss_newham are all walking around the streets of my town equipped with coats, hats, gloves and a Serbian phrasebook while I'm back home clad in M& S longjohns and wrapped in blankets, thawing.
Today we went sledging, or at the very least gave it an excellent try. We went up to the outskirts of town, to the wooded hills called Kosutnjak and sank into the snow up to our knees. The snow was too deep and too fluffy, and the slopes were not particularly steep, so we didn't get very far with the sledge initially.
Instead mzdt and I went on a big stomping expedition, where we tried to cut a path through the snow by stomping on it lots ( a bit like making wine, just with snow) until it grew all compacted, and then walking around and stomping on it lotsmore until eventually we made a pathway and then we could slide down hills.
mzdt took lots of pictures, and tjej and miss_newham made a tall pointy modern art thing snow tower and i pioneered by stomping trails through the snow and watched some dogs struggling to run.
Steering was a bit of a problem initially as there were several methods tried which mostly ended up with us ploughed into snowdrifts, but eventually the graceful skills of sliding down the hill while managing to avoid trees and other obstacles came back to me.
I haven't been sleding since I was a child, and then it's mostly blurry memories of my father's thick jacket which smelled of smoke and frost, and of glittering snow and night sky between the trees. My parents used to take me out sledging after their respective jobs, so in my memories it's very often dark, but I'm wearing a waterproof ski-suit the colour of milk and bone, and there's a feeling of speed and of delight as the wooden contraption on which we are perched responds to my dad's steering as obediently as a horse. And down the slopes we fly, racing between the trees. (And then up the slopes we trudge. I remember being much less enamoured of that part).
Meanwhile, back in present day at one point we all had enough winter delights on account of being very tired and cold, so we walked back towards the busstop sinking into the snow up to our knees, and caught the bus back to town and carried lots of snow in our boots and coats and trousers and ended up in a small restaurant for food and tea and mulled wine.
While Simon, Romany and Jo went off to look for postcards I headed off home to change out of my sopping, freezing clothes and return the sledge, all the while
investigating the town for snow-covered hilly areas and got approached by a stray dog the size of a small horse, who proceeded to develop an obsessive crush on me, leap on my person, playfully bite my coat and try and have sex with the sled. I am not usually frightened of dogs, especially not ones who seem so friendly although I admit when an animal is gaily leaping at me and tall enough to place its paws on my shoulders and display its impressive array of grinning canines, I find it a tad intimidating.
patting it on the head was a serious tactical error on my part, as the dog proceeded to interpret this as the sign of our true love, and followed me home, and sat in front of the building and wept piteously with its nose pressed against the glass entrance door when I refused to let it in.
I am still experiencing pangs of guilt, although they are not nearly as fierce as what I am convinced are the beginning stages of hypothermia.
I need brandy.*
*for purely medicinal purpose, y'understand.
Today we went sledging, or at the very least gave it an excellent try. We went up to the outskirts of town, to the wooded hills called Kosutnjak and sank into the snow up to our knees. The snow was too deep and too fluffy, and the slopes were not particularly steep, so we didn't get very far with the sledge initially.
Instead mzdt and I went on a big stomping expedition, where we tried to cut a path through the snow by stomping on it lots ( a bit like making wine, just with snow) until it grew all compacted, and then walking around and stomping on it lotsmore until eventually we made a pathway and then we could slide down hills.
mzdt took lots of pictures, and tjej and miss_newham made a tall pointy modern art thing snow tower and i pioneered by stomping trails through the snow and watched some dogs struggling to run.
Steering was a bit of a problem initially as there were several methods tried which mostly ended up with us ploughed into snowdrifts, but eventually the graceful skills of sliding down the hill while managing to avoid trees and other obstacles came back to me.
I haven't been sleding since I was a child, and then it's mostly blurry memories of my father's thick jacket which smelled of smoke and frost, and of glittering snow and night sky between the trees. My parents used to take me out sledging after their respective jobs, so in my memories it's very often dark, but I'm wearing a waterproof ski-suit the colour of milk and bone, and there's a feeling of speed and of delight as the wooden contraption on which we are perched responds to my dad's steering as obediently as a horse. And down the slopes we fly, racing between the trees. (And then up the slopes we trudge. I remember being much less enamoured of that part).
Meanwhile, back in present day at one point we all had enough winter delights on account of being very tired and cold, so we walked back towards the busstop sinking into the snow up to our knees, and caught the bus back to town and carried lots of snow in our boots and coats and trousers and ended up in a small restaurant for food and tea and mulled wine.
While Simon, Romany and Jo went off to look for postcards I headed off home to change out of my sopping, freezing clothes and return the sledge, all the while
investigating the town for snow-covered hilly areas and got approached by a stray dog the size of a small horse, who proceeded to develop an obsessive crush on me, leap on my person, playfully bite my coat and try and have sex with the sled. I am not usually frightened of dogs, especially not ones who seem so friendly although I admit when an animal is gaily leaping at me and tall enough to place its paws on my shoulders and display its impressive array of grinning canines, I find it a tad intimidating.
patting it on the head was a serious tactical error on my part, as the dog proceeded to interpret this as the sign of our true love, and followed me home, and sat in front of the building and wept piteously with its nose pressed against the glass entrance door when I refused to let it in.
I am still experiencing pangs of guilt, although they are not nearly as fierce as what I am convinced are the beginning stages of hypothermia.
I need brandy.*
*for purely medicinal purpose, y'understand.