I dream of long, warm, sunny days when I can kick back and relax on some distant beach, preferably in France, feeling the golden sunshine on my skin and the toasted sand singing under my feet. I dream of a dreamy ocean gently lapping at my ankles before I surrender to its rythmic to and fro and float with nothing but untroubled sky to view. It seems these days are an eternity away - when all you have is snow, snow and more snow. I thought we had seen the last of it this year - I had my fair share in Sweden over Christmas and the New Year before landing in England where they had the most snow in thirty years. I went back to Iceland on February 2 and was pleasantly surprised. No snow! But it couldn't last - and it didn't. Three weeks later and Reykjavik and the south-west gets well and truly dumped on. Of course, dad insists that we go out to the coffee house in the afternoon and to be honest I'm glad to get out of the apartment - I think we are both getting cabin fever. But, c'mon, let's get on with Spring can't we? Dad says I only have to tough it out for another few weeks then he'll take me to France. He better not let me down! I've got my heart set on dipping my toes in the Mediterranean.
