Forget frost – this is the real Transylvanian, Carpathian, Central European start to the New Year… Hard winter, knee deep powder, frozen pipes, icy fingers, cats by the fire, sun making diamond dust of the snow… Happy New Frozen Year!
My new book, Fericita in Transilvania: drumul din Liverpool in Carpati, will be published by Editura All in mid-November. All about my life in Magura – how and why I came here, and why I’ve stayed – the book tells the story of why an English woman left a world-famous city for a remote mountain village in Romania.
Follow the book blog to find out about the book launch, events, signings, talks, offers, competitions and more.
If you’re searching for the right Christmas present, this might be the solution…
In October 2011 we were sitting in the main square in Sighisoara’s ancient citadel, when we noticed the chestnut tree over our heads. The long drought over summer and a short burst of snow had confused the tree, and amongst the swelling chestnuts and the shrivelled leaves were fresh green leaves and white flowers. The poor tree didn’t know if it was coming or going. Lots more photos of autumn colour in the new gallery
Mother Nature gets her colour palette out… After the warmest February on record, winter came back for another go in April, and again at the start of May, just to tease us. But the cats and I are relishing the splashes of colour amongst the lush green everywhere, even topped by a sprinkling of snow. My favourite time of year.
Not set in Magura, but news from a Magura graduate. This is Bertie on sofas… Easter in Wales with my family – and Bertie – who was the star of the weekend.
He was brilliant with everyone, especially the kids, who fell completely in love with him within the first nano-second.
Then we went to see friends with dogs, and went for a walk to the sea. It was the happiest hour of Bertie’s life, to date. First there were large open fields, full of skylarks. Bertie – Vicki yelling at him to come back – hurled himself after larks which rocketed up from the spring wheat, drawing him at full pelt across the furrows.
Then… there was the sea. A mountain dog from Central Europe, Bertie flung himself into the salty Bristol Channel as though he were a born seadog. His new friends Bruiser and Button joined in too, and the humans stood and admired their energy.
Sopping wet and deliriously happy, Bertie came flying up to me as if to say thanks for introducing him to this liquid heaven – before he galloped back down for another soaking race along the strand.
Vicki put him back on the lead to thwart any more larking about, and we headed back for warmth and a rub dry for the dogs, crab salad for us.