Currently in the frozen wastelands of the Netherlands. Those lands unexplored up in the North: flat, eerie, wild and windswept. Probably not. I only passed through Holland briefly years ago and ate a cheese sandwich in a service station, so I have no good visual recollection of it, (Holland, not the cheese sandwich)
Mark, we miss your bread (actually, I just made some and it was GOOD!) and everything else, even your tutting in the kitchen.
Weird days here . . . not unpleasant, but long and glassy from reflected snow whiteness. Quiet, even though we have listened to Jacques Dutronc relentlessly. Quiet with that sort of stillness only disturbed by the muffled thud of a clump of snow falling from an overloaded tree. No train, no cars. Snoring dogs, small movements in the house in the compound on the edge of this small silent town in a white landscape, amongst other bigger white landscapes. Somewhere in Brazil someone must be sitting on a beach wondering what snow is like.
Weird days here . . . not unpleasant, but long and glassy from reflected snow whiteness. Quiet, even though we have listened to Jacques Dutronc relentlessly. Quiet with that sort of stillness only disturbed by the muffled thud of a clump of snow falling from an overloaded tree. No train, no cars. Snoring dogs, small movements in the house in the compound on the edge of this small silent town in a white landscape, amongst other bigger white landscapes. Somewhere in Brazil someone must be sitting on a beach wondering what snow is like.
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