As of last week, we have a high school band serenading us on Wednesday evenings from the campus across the road. It’s every bit as hideous as it sounds. I’ve just listened to the ‘Hello Mary Lou, Goodbye Heart’ refrain about a dozen times and I now have a song I wasn’t even aware I knew stuck in my head. I understand that’s not much of an opener, but hoo boy Mary Lou leaves little room for other trains of thought.

As predicted, the week has dripped along. It’s definitely winter now; most days are in the minus temperatures and the roads have turned into treacherous ice-slicked death traps (just ask Tim, who had the first tumble of the season en route to work the other day). We’ve had snow for the last few week or so and the novelty still has not worn off – it’s just so beautiful. We’re astounded with the way it dances through the grey sky as it falls, the mimicry it makes of the objects on which it lands, the various rustles and crunches as we traipse over it. Pretty obvious we’re from a warm country, no?! Even the view from our apartment and surrounding neighbourhood has us disproportionately excited.

We spent last weekend at home: wandering around the hood, picking up bits and pieces and practicing my ever pathetic German at the market, auditioning new coffee shops and giving the Christmas toboggan a its first outdoor run. Tim was always about three blocks behind us, snapping the pretty snow.

I insisted he capture my fave roundabout (what, you mean you don’t have a fave roundabout?).

Lucerne is a lakeside town, and although we obviously get the white stuff it’s not nearly as heavy as higher locales. It was enough to thrill us but still leave our apparently pow-pow loving girl spectacularly unimpressed.

As lovely and novel as the snow is, I’ve not quite worked out how to exist with a toddler in inclement weather. We get out and about as much as possible, but nonetheless some fairly serious cabin fever is setting in. Personally, I’d (always) be happy to warm up some chocolate and sit on the couch (listening to gems like this podcast, a fascinating history lesson and economic evaluation of Switzerland’s little known cheese cartel) however the little madame has other ideas. Especially now that she’s rocking her first haircut – she clearly just wants to show it off.

Finally, the band appears to have said goodbye to Mary Lou, however The Saints Are Marching In, and with their arrival I shall depart (mainly to action closing the window and hopefully shut out the semi-tuned blast of brass invading our house).

(As a delicious aside, these happened last week. Australian lamingtons bathed in Swiss chocolate, for an aperitivo we went to at our neighbour’s gaff. Everyone thought they were brownies – Tim tried to get people to remember them by referencing Lemmings, ha – but they got demolished nonetheless. Mostly by me prior to said drinks.)