Incredibly (or maybe predictably is the right word), I find myself packing up my belongings yet again. I’m up to my very high arse with all things moving this week, so if I were you I wouldn’t expect the usual level of brilliance you find here three times a week.

Ah yes, a fresh start to this Switzerland stage of my mid-life mayhem, that’s just what the doctor ordered. Bring it on I say. I’m tired of being tired and it’s time to get back to bitching and moaning about French grammar instead of my unruly voisins.

And, just as I suspected, I am indeed the centre of the universe. Taking a cue from me, Mother Nature herself has decided to start anew with the first snowfall of the year here. She blustered into town, a giant windbag motivated solely by her own selfish needs. Hmm, reminds me of someone.

On the whole, I am not a lover of winter. The perpetually cold hands and feet, the slip-sliding around, the down-filled layers, plus, I look ridiculous in a wool toque. But there’s something magical about a sparkling white world, especially in this corner of it.

I was trudging home from the gym when I paused to take in this scene. It’s the same walk I always take, but it was so silent and serene; the light was different, the smell was different, anything unsightly was hidden from view. To me, it was a perfect moment.

Looks peaceful doesn’t it? Maybe it’s a sign of things to come. I hope so. I’m counting on this being the storm before the calm.

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