We went on a wonderful walk yesterday in the beautiful, hot sunshine whilst surrounded by snow. As I have not brought any suitable clothes for making the most of serious tanning weather, I decided to vandalise a pair of jeans and cut off the legs. Much hilarity ensued when I walked around the apartment still wearing the hacked off jean legs. It was a good look - a throughback to the 80's and legwarmers, but they had to go..the tanning would have been sorely compromised. I would have ended up with my knees being the only part of my leg to have a tan...NOT a good look.
We meandered up a river which was heavy and over-energetic due to rapidly melting snow-water and headed towards a restaurant which was quite some way up a fairly steep incline. As usual when walking with a bunch of teens, feet were casually stuck out to trip ones friends, snow balls were thrown in fierce competition to see if the other side of the river could be reached, funny walks were attempted and hugely successful (well I thought so, anyway) and with the laughter bubbling away and encouraging any mischievous behaviour, one of our party decided to sidle up to the back of a large group of youths ,heading in the same direction as us, and imitate their postering gait. Sniggering laughter changed to gasps as the youth that was being closely followed turned around to observe an extremely pretty female, walking extremely close behind his back, dressed in a delicate white blouse with diamanté's sewn on for decoration, swaggering and strutting like a demented orangutang showing off to its rapt audience. Shocked and laughing her head off, she very deftly turned the strut into a perfectly executed about turn and then power-walked back to the rest of us. Why oh why was I not filming the whole episode.
The lovely day ended perfectly by way of a chinoise fondue at Gasthaus Sonne and some delish wine. The church bells were ringing every hour for Easter and I relaxed knowing that for the first time in twenty years, I would not be expected to be the Easter Bunny and have to hide eggs. I had been soundly told by my youngest (aged 16) that I did not have to do that any longer, as she had realised for quite some time that the Easter Bunny was actually me...wonder if she knows about Father Christmas?