I promise, I really do that we are not choosing activities just to make good titles for blog posts; but today just came together perfectly.
The boys’ uncle Bob arrived from Madrid looking all suave and Spanish. Well, I saw suave, the boys seemed to see a large bullseye painted on him with the words ‘hit me with a snowball’ above it in flashing lights. All in your point of view I guess.
Once Bob had been given the guided tour of the apartment by the boys we headed off through the village to find a ski-hire place. We’d checked with the Tourism office yesterday about where to find and how say sledding in German. Funnily enough none of my German courses had covered that essential word and miming it in the tourism office left us uncertain about whether we’d find sledding or ski-jumping at the end of our walk. (For those who follow after, it turns out sledge is ‘schlitten’ or ‘rodel’.)
Our hired sleds were the traditional sort with steel covered, wooden runners and rounded fronts. We spent a lovely afternoon edging further and further up the hill, and so flying faster and faster down the hill. The combination of sledding and using whoever was sledding as a snowball target kept everyone amused. We even picked up a friend, a boy from the Netherlands about Cal’s age who had a nifty sledding device that looked like a smoothed off dustbin lid and doubled as a fantastic shield in snowball exchanges. Although we did find out his name, he seemed to prefer to be known, super-hero style, as ‘Red Shield’.
It’s lovely having Bob with us, until now I’ve been the prime target for all snowballs: But now, Bob’s your uncle there’s someone else to throw snow at.
[Okay, okay, I’m hanging my head in shame. I just can’t help myself.]