Snow in Europe ...

... is lousy when you're trying to get anywhere, but fascinating (a) if you're where you wish to be and (b) have had little or no experience of it before.

Both of which describe our kids and, to a large extent, me. This morning Rosalie and I sat up and watched it begin to fall - and watched, and watched, and watched ... and then were informed by those who know better than we that what we were watching was just a prelude to the real thing!

The mountains around Grenoble (literally - the place is surrounded by 3 different ranges) are all covered in snow now. It is Christmas Eve, here, which is traditionally the Big Bash, and we are girding our loins and stomachs for a meal with Ema's sister and her family, and Ema's dad. They live some way out of town and up a hill: we are reasonably assured of making it up, but less so of getting down. Therefore, along with the gifts and so forth, we are packing additional clothes in the event we get snowed in.

'Snowed in' is a phrase I don't think I have never used before, much less in connection with myself. But then, 'snowed in' sounds infinitely more mysterious than do the words 'wind', 'rain' and 'damp', which I gather from friends describe conditions in the Manawatu. Hah!