The Photo Gallery 216: Cold

The prompt for this week's Gallery over at Tara's Sticky Fingers blog?  'Cold'.

*Rubs hands together*

Living in Moscow, I do have some experience on this subject.  When we arrived here in January 2010 the city experienced it's coldest spell for 10 years or more; within a week the temperature dropped to below -20degC and stayed there for some weeks.  (I would like to point out that at this stage we had no car, and I was walking the kids to school.  It wasn't far - about 15 minutes with a 6 year old trudging across the ice and a 4 year old being towed on sledge - but thank god the school had a cafeteria where Boy #2 and I could warm up before repeating the journey in reverse...)

But I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea; we actually love the Russian winters.  As long as you're dressed for it, they can be wonderful.  The sky is - usually - clear, the sun is shining, there are tiny particles of ice floating through the air as if you're surrounded by glitter. You can cross country ski, skate, build snow men (as long as it's not too cold - if the snow is too dry it just doesn't stick together, and that happens around -10degC and lower) and there's no shame after you've done all that in huddling up with hot chocolate, pizza and a movie.

The only problem with this week's Gallery is that I have too many pictures to show you, so bearing in mind I have no doubt there will be lots of gorgeous images on show I've not focused on 'beauty', but more on illustrating what 'cold' actually means...

Our indoor weather station on February 13th 2012.  It HAS been colder here - but this was the only time I thought of taking a photograph.

Snow flakes that have perfectly kept their shape because it's so cold (February 2010)

And our local canal, mid-November 2014.  Yes. I said November...

The Photo Gallery: New

This post is for Week 126 of Tara's Photo Gallery, and the theme today is 'New'.  Click here to see the other entries.

I'm not going to lie to you.  One of the best things about visiting the UK at Christmas (or indeed, the UK at any time of year) are the shopping opportunities.  Brand names and products that would cost a fortune here are often more affordable back home even if you buy them in big city stores, and if your parents happen to live close to an outlet village, as mine do, the savings are definitely worth making.

Since we arrived in Russia, every year I've treated myself to at least one pair of new boots.  We spend at least 5 months of the year trekking through snow and slush, you see - so the foot wear you might be able to get away with back home simply doesn't cut it here. Those cute kitten heels?  Useless.  The funky bowling shoes from Camper?  Forget it.  The stilettos that magically make you lose ten pounds and smooth out all the lumps on your butt?  In your dreams.  (Unless you're a Russian woman of course; they apparently have special classes in how to glide in sky high heels across any surface before they leave kindergarten).  The problem, of course, is finding something that does the job - that is, keeps your feet warm & dry, has no heel and a decent tread to cope with the icy pavements - but which also doesn't look as if you're off to a building site*.

Back in 2011, I found the perfect pair in the outlet village close to my parents, brought them in brown and whilst I didn't wear them to death, they were a stalwart standby.  They held up well, so when I saw the same pair this year - in black, and at an ever better price - I decided to invest in them.  I'm delighted with them.  But there's just one problem.  It doesn't do to get too attached to your pristine outerwear in Moscow because this city is filthy in the winter.  No matter how much you brush and clean your boots, they are usually  covered with dirt again within 5 metres of leaving the house.

For example.

I've had these for less than 18 days.  Do they still look 'new' to you?

Me neither.


*Not a bad look in itself, but not to be used every day...

Not dead, just in Moscow - one year on

As of tomorrow The Potty Family will have been resident in Moscow for a year and one week. (The title above is a reference to the first Russia-based post I wrote back then). I'm not going to give you a round-up of all that's happened in that time (I never have been much good at 'round robin' letters; I gave it a try twice - here and here - a couple of years back, but found the whole process so boring I resorted to masquerading as a mouse...), but I will say that I have learnt more than a couple of things in that time frame:

I've learned that 25 years after leaving school, the major complaint of my school teachers holds true; I still don't do my homework. If I did, I might now be able to understand more than the embarrassingly few words of Russian I can dredge up and crucially, be able to say the word 'write' correctly - rather than mispronouncing it and saying 'piss' instead. (Russians are very forgiving of foreigners making mistakes with their language, but there are limits).

I've learned that there are advantages to not being blonde and gorgeous and driving a big 4x4. Who would have thought it? But whilst it's all very well in London (well, it's not, actually - the 4x4 bit, anyway), here all it will do is make you visible and get you pulled over and fined for such technicalities as having a dirty number plate. Luckily, I am not blonde (I reserve judgement on 'gorgeous' - after a day at home with the Boys it's not something I'm feeling right now, that's for sure), and nor do I drive a 4x4, so up until this point - knocks furiously on wood - I have managed to sneak under the radar in our very basic saloon car, and have not been deemed worth stopping by Moscow's finest.

I've learned that in many circumstances, you can rely on the kindness of strangers. This is of course mostly down to the fact that I often have two fairly edible boys in tow (in my obviously unbiased opinion), but even so I've been amazed by how much the expat community and especially the Russians will go out of their way to be helpful. During our recent trip back home I have to say that of the many comparisons I drew between the UK and Russia that came out in Britain's favour, the way that children are treated was not one of them.

I've learned that when clearing snow off a car, it's always a good idea to include the headlamps in your sweeping endeavours. Especially if you're going to be driving anywhere in the dark and want to actually see where you're going. Oh, and to keep a second set of ice-clearing equipment in the house for those times when the boot is sealed shut with the stuff...

I've learned that it can be incredibly frustrating to sit in a country where so much is happening and not to be able to blog about much of it due to concerns on how doing so might affect your own life. (Oooh - a serious one)

And to follow that one up, I've learned that it doesn't always pay to share your blog address with your nearest and dearest because they might actually read it, and then part of the reason that you started blogging - the free writing therapy and the counsel of strangers - becomes impossible to achieve without impacting on them.

I've learned that dealing with hat-hair for 5 months of the year is so much easier when everyone else is doing it too.

I've learned that Russian women have some sort of hereditary ability to walk through snow and ice in high heels without ending up falling tits over ass - and that I don't.

I've learned that far from being desperate to get back home after 18 months, as I had expected to be, I would in fact love to stay on longer. (The jury's out as to what will happen with that, by the way).

And whilst I could go on ad infinitum, I'll end by saying that finally, I've learned that my sons - well, probably children in general - have quite incredible abilities to adapt. And that my own abilities leave something to be desired.

Chilblains and their side-effects...

Growing up in an old and draughty house, as a little girl I used to get terrible chilblains on my toes. (Click on the word for a link if you're lucky enough never to have experienced them). Oh, that burning, itchy feeling was simply horrendous. The relief of taking my school shoes off at the end of the day so I could have a good old scratch is something I still recall today.

Boy #2 - unsurprisingly, sturdy little soldier - is unaffected by them, but of course (of course!) his older and more 'delicate' brother suffers. Normally I tend to brush off Boy #1's afflictions; with the exception of his allergies and eczema he's actually pretty healthy, and when he does complain the causes seem most often to be imagined, or the result of near-fatal encounters with the edge of the table or fallings-off the arms of the sofa. When it comes to chilblains however, having experienced them myself, I am very sympathetic.

Unfortunately it seems that there's not much you can take for them as a child unless - as his did last year - they get infected, and the doctor prescribes antibiotics. You just have to try and keep skin moisturised, legs and hands warm, and your circulation up.

So far this winter he only has the one chilblain and I'm trying desperately to keep it that way, so when at bedtime yesterday he complained it was hurting him I decided to bring out the big guns and - gasp - reached for a hot water bottle, which I part-filled with warm water.

You think you know where this is going, don't you?

Well, apparantly it was just what the doctor ordered, and within a few minutes he was fast asleep. I'm not sure if it actually made much of a difference in real terms but the novelty value alone was enough to convince him that I was taking the situation seriously enough (which is, let's be honest, what we all want when we're feeling under the weather). What a great idea, I thought. No medication, no fuss, no trip to the doctors.

What I hadn't given much thought to, of course, was the possibility he might wake up at 5.00am and realise the hot water bottle was now cold. And I hadn't even considered the possibility that instead of pushing it away and down to the bottom of the bed - like any reasonable adult (as in, not a 6 year old) might do - he would sit up in bed and scream the house down demanding that it be refilled.

So, no hot water bottle tonight. But on the upside, it's good to know that threats of the naughty chair work even in the dark cold of the early morning...