Straight Out of a Russian Novel...

For several weeks, while the snow fell, life in our house was straight out of a Russian novel. We wore four to six layers of jumpers, Foxford rugs at our knees and overcoats worthy of Gogol if compelled to sit for any length of time. The thaw has been a great relief...

Ever let the Fancy roam...

Yesterday I went to visit a friend who lives in the Mountains. Leaving suburbia from time to time is always a good move. Somehow the cosy anonymity of the housing estates that ring every European city in ever-increasing circles can stunt the imagination. The Mountains were still dotted with drifts of snow... So I took to looking at photos taken in warmer climes. Pleasure Never is At Home?