I just can't stand
winters. Yes, I know this sounds like an odd confession from a woman who lives in a place which Adrian Miles describes in this manner: "if a bit smaller volda could be a perfect location for one of those northern exposure style tv dramas." After all, the people living in those little townships are supposed to be strong, healthy from all the fresh air and rough living, and have a matter-of-fact attitude towards such minor inconveniences as snow from October to May, black-out caused by winter storms, days (if not weeks) of isolation due to a combination of wind, snow, fog and avalances, not to mention the endless nights of midwinter. People who live in places like Volda are supposed to benefit from all of this and grow into stubborn, capable survivors.
Who knows, I might actually be one. But when I balance to work on frozen slush because my rugged no-hike-is-too-long-no-backpack-too-heavy type tall blond husband thinks he doesn't need to change to winter tires just yet, hey, it's barely October! I don't feel like I am going to survive long. And I fully understand why women in this climate become shriveled angry bitches, blaming it all on their husbands and driving them off to sea (In the grand tradition of the vikings) if they (the women that is) survive 30 and their tenth childbirth - Sacroiliac pain would never ease up.
I'll ease up on the complaints now though - but don't feel too safe, there might be more later. By the look of it, this is going to be a long, painful winter.