Tim’s new job requires him to travel – not as much as we’d first thought (yet, at least) – but every few weeks he scoots across the border to Germany. Waiblingen, to be specific. Just outside Stuttgart, it’s about three and a bit hours from here and so when he had an extended stay last weekend, Adelaide and I hitched a ride.

I confess we had an ulterior motive: Christmas Markets. Found throughout this area, they are renowned in Germany as being epic. I love Christmas and I love markets; it was a no-brainer. We rolled into town on Sunday afternoon and made our way to the Ludwigsberg markets. In the centre of town, they were easy to find, not least because many helpers indicated the way.

They were jammers (and slightly blurry). Possibly blurry due to the Gluhwein (mit rhum) we knocked back. Because Christmas Markets. The Ludwigsberg Markets are renowned for the angels that line the town and light up the night. Angels and, um, other lights. This snap was meant to capture the general vibe of the markets, but turned out to be a tribute to Mr Man in the middle. Clearly we love you the most, whoever you are. Following dinner with one of Tim’s colleagues (an Aussie guy who’d gifted us with not only a Vegemite supply but also a tip off to a German meat wholesaler just around the corner from work), we called it a night. Motsy had two days of work ahead and Laidybird and I had two more days of gluhwein markets.

We hit Stuttgart the following day and stocked up (shamelessly) on Christmas decorations for the tree and (essentially) snow boots. As a city, Stuttgart was fairly nondescript. Perhaps the markets (which of course I loved) gave an unfair focus, but other than a large open town square there was little in the traditional sense of attractions. However, it was a cool, crisp winter day and there was nothing that hot wine and wurst couldn’t take care of. We had a ball.

The following day we canvassed the hotel breakfast room – primarily populated with Tim’s colleagues – for the best way to spend our day. The recommendation was to head to Schönberg, a wee town about half an hour away, as it was a typical village of the area with many traditional buildings. And, of course, more markets.

It was everything that was promised, and the girl and I spent the morning moseying the streets listening to jazz Christmas carols played by a three piece street band while snacking on clementines (her) and stollen (me).

A few days after returning home, we had our best early Christmas present: my sister, her husband, their lovely lovely boy and equally lovely baby bump arrived to play, for a whole month. As they managed their jet lag we dressed the tree in the spoils from our mega market spree, getting increasingly excited for the upcoming festivities.