And there is – most certainly – no crying in cross-country skiing. ‘Bleeped out’ language and pixelated gestures maybe, but no crying. And I’ll have you know that I can do the bleeping in several languages (and I used them all).

Thanks to living several years in the UK – AND many a day spend at the local pub (a greeting goes out to the Pitcher & Piano in Nottingham and The Castle Inn in Grantham) – I am an expert bleeper, if you so will.

But back to what I was saying. If you live long enough in Sweden, you find yourself signing up for a cross-country event called Vasaloppet. Some king or other fled (several hundred years ago) from an enemy mob, and that – as it was winter time – on skies. He managed 90km before he learned that his troops had defeated the rebel army. And he returned home.

I can only assume that he did that in some leisurely manner, with several stops at conveniently placed inns. THAT however, is too pedestrian for modern times. Nowadays, participants will have to complete the 90km in the space of 12 hours. Or – if you are a chicken like me – 30km in 9.5 hours.

Last year’s event turned out to be a ‘who can swear the loudest’ competition, but sis and I made it (see image for proof). This year, I hope, there will be less swearing and more skiing. So fingers crossed.