It has been snowing here today, so Simon has headed out to the nearest ski fields* and I'm tucked up at home this evening with the laptop and a glass of wine. I've always been more into the apres than the ski - so I'm just taking it one stage further by not skiing at all and going straight to the vino. (In my defence, I do feel as if I've been skiing as I went to my first yoga class last night and got rather over-enthusiastic with the downward facing dogs, warrior poses and sun salutations, so the thigh-burn is definitely real enough to merit a night in).
I did make it out for a walk today, but it was too cold to take my hands out of my pockets to take any photos, so here are some snaps from one of the icy days we had last week:
* This makes it sound as if we live in the Alps. The nearest slopes are actually a two hour drive away, in Whitetail, Pennsylvania, but that didn't deter Sir Ranulph Shercliff and his intrepid Embassy explorers heading out for a night skiing. Incidentally, check this out for the funniest ski resort name ever; another resort in the same region that I may actually make an effort to visit, even if just to buy some postcards.
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