There's a great set of caves at Wee Jasper called Carey's Caves. We headed off there for a bit of sub-terranean edification with small children and lunatic whippet in tow. The Frenchman announced that he would wait with Kipper in the shade whilst I head to the caves with the offspring. I was all a-lather at the idea of trying to explain the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite to bright young minds when I don't know my arse from elbow in a geological sense.
You can imagine my relief when we were told we were just in time for a scandinavian folk music extravaganza that involved sitting on chairs and listening to string trios playing polkas. I was tempted to get up and polka myself with the sheer relief - that was until we got to the scandinavian wedding marches. Who knew those northerners were so dour about weddings. Rather than skipping down the aisle in a light-hearted fashion those brides would be stomping down with a stern expression - MARRIAGE IS NO LAUGHING MATTER. No sir.
Letty: he nearly garrotted himself against the lead, making a bid for freedom to terrorise the bovines.
Jek: love your style, glad you like the dollies.
Kirst: If I could have palmed off the nutcase on someone I would have! Too bloody disorganised, us!
Margret & Zofia: thanks!!