If you could come back as an animal, which one would you choose? I’d choose to be a seagull. They’re incredibly noisy, gregarious, very inquisitive, wonderful flyers and more than anything, love ice-cream.
Mrs S thinks I should come back as a goat. They’ll eat anything, friendly, can be quite annoying, expert at head-butting, but above all love climbing . . .
So, at the end of our day-off from travelling, that’s exactly what Mr S does. Goes in search of a lonely goat herd. Heads up. Clears throat. Just in case a spot of yodeling is called for too.
Earlier, our day starts with a lovely calm morning walk around the bay into the tiny town of Ballangen. It doesn’t last for long. Unbeknown to us, gathering gusts of tsunami proportions have been waiting high up in the mountains, preparing an ambush. Like a crazy marauding army of Ninjas. Unwilling to show any mercy. At times, we feel we could take off. Emulate James. Go ‘Walking in the air’. Afterall, there is plenty of snow around . . .
We get confined to barracks for the afternoon. Sit it out. A game of Bananagrams and Othello to the rescue.
Mrs S, of course, has eyes on coming back as a heavy plant operator . . .
