So last night we plodded down the icy hill, good shoes in hand, to a party at the Barnehage. Yes, there is a real danger here that I might be getting a social life; I've spoken more Norwegian in the past week than in the previous two years put together. One kind man, nicely remarked that I had an accent, and where was I from.
Being the 'foreigners' of course we arrived fashionably late and hence last; Norwegians are sticklers for punctuality. Everyone who turned up got a picture of one half of a celebrity couple so that when it came to time to sit and eat you were forced to sit with someone other than your real spouse. A great idea actually.
Well, himself was Brad Pitt and I was thrilled to receive a photo of Camilla Parker Bowles - not! Well turns out that Angelina works in the Norwegian public sector and Prince Charles, would you credit it, runs a restaurant by the fjord.
Me and Brad Pitt retired to my boudoir just after 1 AM. Not bad for a night at a kindergarden, drinking wine out of plastic glasses. Tough luck, Angelina.