Snow is smothering Oslo in its freezing clutch, whisking evasive snowflakes against our puffy, Christmas-greasy cheeks like razors on a kittens bottom. Just peeking outside can be painful, and so accordingly we make sure to travel at length, go outside, visit relatives and dress in fancy (read: thin) clothing as often as possible. In a way, it is most illogical to position Christmas at this climatic juncture.
We're all full and wobbly in nylon tights staggering through cold, dry baths of snow, occasionally slipping to our death on the black ice on the ground beneath. As the searing pain of the fall was not enough, our pride has taken a fatal blow, and the snow now sticking to your knickers and the inside of the glittery dress is melting.
DID I MENTION YOUR TIGHTS RIPPED?!
Actually this didn't really happen. It was a strange scenario conjured in the moist corners of my brain cockles. However, nonetheless likely to happen.
From all of us, to all of you - merry Christmas and happy new year!
Prodigy, Spektrum, Oslo, November 09.