Embrace the cold season

IMG_2507I’m wearing layer upon layer. Wool underneath. My hands are cold and so is my nose. I’m sneezing, often. I embrace my scarves, or they embrace me, on a daily basis, and hours every day. Winter is coming.

I’ve gone back to uni for another year while staying at home with Daughter for another year and for six weeks I’m working in a lower secondary school. I think refreshing has to be the right word to describe it. My mind is turned on again. I get to be myself outside the house without having my supernatural mother-power turned on constantly. I also have a very decent-length walk to get to work (although I often use the car) and I get to walk in silence and solitude with the brisk, cold air twirling around me harmfully caressing my bare cheeks.

The season is changing and the weather is protesting violently. The sunrise is bright pink and orange and the sky has just changed to a bleak blue before heavy grey clouds cover it up and drench themselves of bucketloads of water. The sun sets before, surprisingly early, and earlier every day and gives way to howling winds and thundering clouds.

The colours, the changes and the heavy dose of new impressions made by the young hopeful are making me feel poetic. I feel like I should find somewhere to sitsurrounded by the cold air and amid the magic colour combinations and pour all these feelings into words.  But it’s been done before, and I don’t really have the time. But I breathe it all in: fill my head with the bright pink and soothing green, the surrendering orange and daunting red; fill my lungs with the cold; and push the darkness out of the corners of our house with candles burning with mellow yellow flames.


The weekend and the weather


Today it feels so good to sit inside. It’s been raining followed by thunder and lightning since the early hours of the night. Proper, heavy rain showers over us in regular intervals. It’s thrilling.

After a wee walk to get Son to kindergarten I’m no sitting in silence and solitude while Daughter is having a nap outside. The tea is still warm and I have nothing in this world that calls for my attention. I’m taking deep breaths and enjoying my life thoroughly.

The weather calls for lazy days inside this weekend. Boardgames and movies with the children, I also see cinnamon and hot cacao in the near future. Tomorrow I’m off, all alone among a few thousands, to bid one of my favourite bands farewell. This week they’ll give their very last concerts. A grand, thrilling and yet very melancholic event.


A Scot I’ll Never Forget

This blog is called Anne blabbers. This is one of those post that will show you why. And since that is my name in front of the verb: allow me.

One of the wonderful things about travelling is meeting people. We had pictured late evenings in Scottish pubs, laughing and chatting with the locals while sipping on a pint. Listening to music and, listen to the varieties of Scottish accent as we travelled from one part of the country to the next. We met quite a few interesting people, most of them men, as a group of three ladies seem to attract them more easily than other women. And as you know, when meeting a lot of new people, someone might come around who’ll take up permanent residence in your head. This happened to me.

The depressing blue skies of Scotland

I was, as you know, travelling with the most wonderful travel companions I can imagine, two of the most wonderful ladies I’ll ever know. Now, I could go on and on about the amazing qualities they possess but I will focus on one thing that one of these ladies shows immense talent for and that is finding people to talk to. More specifically: in a pub she walks over to the bar to order a drink only to return to our table with the most interesting people in said pub.

After finding the perfect company for us in a pub in Oban, we hit the pubs in Edinburgh, looking for another night of perfection. We sent our lovely blonde off to the bar to get us drinks, as that would guarantee a man following in her path back to the table. She did not let us down. Introduced to us was a man who’ll we’ll never forget.

Let’s call him Scott, or, let’s not, that could be interpreted as us seeing him as the stereotypical Scotsman, which I don’t don’t think he is. In fact, this is the type of man you don’t come across every day, and thus also one who leaves one heck of an impression.

He didn’t really stand out in the crowd, but then he opened his mouth. And then, my friend, I realised a few life-altering truths. The first was that we had obviously lost our good luck somewhere around Glasgow. Second was that a nice Scottish accent is not synonymous with being sweet, kind, and polite. Can you imagine our disappointment?

The man seemed to be thrilled to be the only man at our table, and he was not going to waste his time. He blabbered even more than I tend to when I’m nervous. And to give you a brief summary of some of the topics we (or, rather he, as this was more of a monologue than a dialogue) touched upon:

  • “Everybody hates the Brits. Nobody likes them at all. They’re in the European Union, but really, they shouldn’t be because everyone hates them. They get along better with their closest neighbour(?), the US, but unfortunately they don’t really seem to notice them at all.” How we can be so sure everybody hates them? “Well, have you ever seen the results of Eurovision?” I now pointed a finger and tried to remind him of what the previous British entries have been in the song contest, with which he replied: “Well, everyone hates us anyway and nobody’s going to give us any point anyhow, so why bother sending anyone good?” There seems to be a bit of an evil circle going on there, but who am I to talk? Norway is attached to the continent and thus I am biased as I already loathe them. Fortunately there’s Australia. Australia rocks and is by far the best country in the world.
  • “The UK is the most corrupted nation in the world. Every politician is corrupt. They will do anything for their own personal wealth and can be turned in any direction with the right amount of cash. Of course may of them start out nice, but once they smell money their souls are sold to Satan and they cannot be saved.” The poor man did not get the expected responses from us on this subject which resulted in a silent moment, where his eyes flicked back and forth between us. He gave off a nervous laughter before he asked: “You’re not politicians, are you?” He was never really convinced we were, which in fact really made my day. I can now proudly say I have been accused of being an undercover politician set to infiltrate society in order to see what Average Joe thinks about how we run the country. Badass!
  • “Scotland sucks! The weather is horrible, it’s cold, it rains, and the sky is always grey. There is basically no reason to live and every Scotsman we’d ever meet would be depressed and grumpy.” ( I assume all other Scots I’ve ever met have just been extremely good at hiding this). “What makes them all so depressed is the weather and the cold. Nobody can live and function normally under such circumstances,” he said and looked at us who were both smiling. We had to remind of where we were from, the amounts of rain we get, the fact that our country is further north and thus is probably both colder, and definitely has fewer hours of sunlight during the winter. He could not explain this, but it could have something to do with our blond hair and blue eyes. Duh!
  • Oh, and being a Glaswegian in Edinburgh is worse than anything else in the entire world!

Castles and blue skies - to depressing for words

The guy left our table in a fury when we counter-argumented and happened to say something about Scotland that he misinterpreted as criticism. “Who were we to criticise his country!?”

We were glad to see him go. Before leaving the pub, we were asked by a few men(lads) at the table next to ours, where we were from. When Norway was our answer, they looked at us in bewilderment, shook their heads and said that we could not be. We looked as confused at that comment and wanted them to elaborate. With which we were met with “You can’t be! There was a terrorist attack in Norway. You were shot!”

We then left the pub, never to look back. But with memory of Scott, far from the average Scot, who we’ll never forget.

Rainy summer days

I haven’t been all that lucky regarding the weather this summer. Well, Denmark loved us (Son and me), but soon as my degree was completed (my uni degree that is) we were in the doghouse. The weather turned the minute I got the results for my thesis, guess Danish weather gods prefer students to graduates. And thinking we left because of the weather, the Danish weather gods were so sincerely pissed of they actually flooded the city of Copenhagen as soon as we’d left. (I’m sorry about that one Danes, next time we’ll make sure the gods know we leave for reasons other than their petty behaviour).

We haven’t always had rain, the weather has been ok, very ok, almost too ok. Not too much rain, but not at all that sunny either. I’ve been outside enough though to get a few freckles. Actually, enough freckles for them now to resemble a bit of a tan. I don’t say this to complain. I really don’t mind. I’ve bought so much tea while away (I’ll get back to those in some later posts) and now I have plenty reason to cuddle up on the sofa with a huge cup of tea and a good book. But if you do have tropical summer days where you can run barefoot in the grass, swim in the ocean and sit outside at night until mosquitos devour you, then please enjoy that a little extra for me. And I’ll have a sip of tea for you 🙂

Wawel Castle and Polish weather

I’m not at all generalising when I say that the sun doesn’t shine often in Cracow. I have been to Cracow once, I stayed for four days, and I, of course, thoroughly studied the weather while in the city. Just like in Switzerland, where I have been twice, and stayed for several hours each time, the sun never makes an appearance. At least not a proper appearance. The pictures taken from the balcony of our hotel room, showing Wawel Castle, show the variation we saw in the weather, and also the lack of sun. This is how it was when we first arrived.

Shortly after our arrival dark clouds rolled over the city, darkening the sky. The castle immediately took on a more somber expression:

There was lightning and thunder coming closer, rolling over the city before again disappearing into the horizon. Then the water sluiced from the following deep grey sky.

It didn’t rain much during our few days in the city, but the sun was timid and hid behind a clouded sky. The first of the photos here well represents the weather we saw.

On our last evening, after hearing about the horrible events in Norway, I took this picture of the castle. I was sitting in the window sill (nothing like this one) trying to sort out my thoughts, which of course was an impossible task at the time. However, after the sun set and it grew dark, the castle was lit up from all possible angles, and I was at least distracted from my thoughts long enough to get my camera out and take this splendid view home with me.

Bathing in June

Living somewhere the temperature varies between 11 degrees C to almost 25 degrees in one week in late June, outside swimming is not my first priority. I can’t go an entire summer without testing (either) the rivers, lakes or salt water, but I’d rather wait until August, when the temperature is more likely to have reached a two digit number.

Until then we have to make do with what we have.

In about 20 degrees and under the warmth of the sun, a puddle can be just as much fun, especially if you’re only two. Son is having the time of his life splashing around.

Hope you have a great summer and get to splash around as much as your heart desires 🙂