An accurate reflection of the day I think. Or at least, of how I felt for much of the day, having spent much of the night up with Mog. Mog herself had a quiet day, snoozing through most of it and waking up just in time to demand a taste from Friend's dinner plate, and then rather unfortunately waking up just now as I climb into bed beside her. Joy. Gives me a chance to blog before sleeping I suppose- I'm sure she's just thinking of you all really. No more seizures though; I'll take a little insomnia over that any time.
A nice day. A revised plan given the night's activities, but one which still pleased us all. Little fish and I did the breakfast thing leaving Friend with a sleeping Mog. Four of us all finally ready somewhat later than planned, and then all of us to the station to jettison most of our luggage. It is great to know it will be waiting in Interlaken. And surprisingly stressful to try to sort out what we can manage without for 48 hours. Only 48 hours, so a big temptation to try to do without most of it. But 48 whole hours, and the knowledge of what can happen in that time...
Still, baggage dumped, and acornsr of the old town still to explore. The Hofkirch admired, the Lion Monument discovered, and a lace shop visited. The latter may have been a mistake. Little Fish has morphed into little Grub Monster; for some reason although the town is the cleanest place I have ever been to, there is a black grime covering the streets which transfers to her wheels, and from there to her hands and then face, clothes, arms, sandwiches, andeverythibg else she touches. The lace lady was very forgiving.
Raclette for lunch, hurrah! A proper Chalet School outing meal. Mog decided this was worth waking up for, especially when accompanied by mountain music. Little Fish decided it was worth hiding from. We're not sure why.
Bed for girls and silly time for grown ups. A giggly evening full of conversation incomprehensible to anyone not the two of us. Lovely. And now bed, and hopefully sleep, if Mog settles before waking LF. Tomorrow we tackle Mount Pilatus. Legend has it the body of Pontious Pilate was drowned in a lake at the top. Unlikely, but appropriate for tomorrow I think. And then on Saturday we leave Luzern for Stage two of our holiday. It occurs to me that our week could have happened in another family's weekend. The town could have been thoroughly explored in a day, mountains could have been conquered the following day, and the family have moved on. And we've spent a week doing small things. But that's ok. Slow time again; time to look and see and appreciate things. Time for Little Fish to experiment with my camera- and if anyone knows how to replicate her above effort I'd be grateful; it seems strangely appropriate. Time for streets to become familiar enough that a little child can lead us through them, time for a larger child to rest in the shade. And time for Friend and I to laugh ourselves silly over nothingnesses. So yes, we might have seen more, done more, than we have. But I'm not convinced we'd have achieved any more.
And now Friend's light is out and Mog's sedative has taken effect. And I must join the sleepers. Night folks,