Day 67: In the snow house

Last night, after I wrote the post, Exile #2 and I had a blazing row and I ended up returning to the quinzhee to sleep. It was fine, surprisingly snug actually. The only problem was that due to my body heat, the snow on the roof of the chamber was constantly melting, dripping water on me and the floor of the chamber where it re-froze forming a slick layer of ice. Eventually, I fell asleep only to slide down the hill of newly formed ice and end up half-in-half-out of the entrance. There Exile #2 found me, and, full of pity (and a little remorse) took me back into the house.

OK, not really - exhausted after the festivities, we turned in early, woke up this morning as usual, went to church, came home for a quick lunch, had one of Exile #3's friends from school and her family round for a 'playdate', went for a swim, had some tea and put the girls to bed, Exile #4 having had a dose of paracetamol (acetaminophen) due to a 101 °F temperature.

Actually, my point was that we had a very nice, but nothing-interesting-to-report day but I have to share one exchange. Apropos of St Patrick's Day, someone said, "Oh [Exile #3] looks just like a little Irish lass, with her red hair and blue eyes. Oh dear, I haven't offended you have I? - are you English?" "Yes I am, but that's OK." Pause. "We're not actually at war with the Irish you know." Then, in apparently genuine surprise, "Oh really?" I'm guessing they were joking. They were joking. I'm sure of it.

Unless I missed something in the news this week?