Bob's Off To A Day Of Paint Ball In The Woods.

Boys and their fun!

It almost sounds like a Grimm story title and I am sure there will be a grim outcome for someone...someone clad in clothes all colours of the rainbow - I have a feeling it may be my man.

A friend of Bob's asked whether Bob would like to come along for a day of Paint balling and of course Bob is happy as anything to participate. Gosh, since being asked Bob has been doing strategic manoeuvres on how to play the game well. While the old ball & chain ( eh, me ) only uttered:

" Try not to be hit in the first five minutes otherwise you'll watch all day from the sidelines. "

Naturally, he explained the finer details of the game and the fact that it is quite alright to be hit a few times. No sitting out!

Men will always be boys and the statement can be proved by the numerous company team building excursions that are held at a paint ball arena. Possibly the only given then would be

to make sure not to hit the boss

Bob very kindly asked me ( or rather mumbled ) if I'd like to go as well but to his relief I declined. No, none of this creeping around a paint ball arena with goggles and fatigues and frankly a day of fun for me is structured very differently.

A walk followed by reclining on our comfy couch reading a favourite novel, perhaps a phone call to my parents to ask whether they would like to go for a reconnaissance to Aloisia's and after that some more lounging about. Now that sounds like a fun day!

All jokes aside, I am glad Bob is going on this adventure for a day. It will be a good opportunity to meet people, have a change of scenery while at the same time getting a big dose of fitness. If I recall correctly from movies seen, Bob will have to crawl on all fours, jump over hay bales, run at great speed and all while holding the pain ball gun. Gosh, I look forward to hearing all about it this evening.

Biggi

Picnic Baskets Are Heading To Our Beautiful Slice Of Burgenland Paradise.

Ooh la la, what an interesting Summer ahead!

At the moment the powers that be are still debating if they will initiate project picnic basket...that should really only take a second.

When I told Bob about it yesterday, he mumbled:

" Where can they go and picnic here? "

to which I replied:

" Where not? "

our area abounds with undulating hills, pastures, vineyards, forests and many many comfortably placed benches.

Imagine, setting up your bit of heaven on the side of a lane, eating delectable cheeses while toasting the odd car passing by with your glass of Grüner Veltliner or Blaufränkisch and of course a smug grin...

Nowadays, there is the eternal ( contradictory, isn't it ) problem of drinking and driving. Personally, I tend to think that this picnic basket idea would solve this. All one needs is a strong fella to carry the basket and one can either walk a few miles to find the perfect spot to picnic or just a few hundred meters.

Even writing this, my mouth is watering at the thought of reclining on a checked blanket laid in a lush meadow, with a few cows mooing in the background while Bob is feeding me morsels of delectable cheese, ham and crisp freshly baked bread washed down with numerous sips of perfectly chilled white wine.

The beauty of our slice of paradise is that should you wish to leave the basket behind when you are finished ( rather if you are too lazy to carry it home ) it will still be there the next day. Should the urge for an afternoon snooze in the warmth of the sun overwhelm you, guess what? No one will disturb or harm you except for the odd pheasant, field mouse, cow or grasshopper.

This idea of picnicking might ignite a new trend in picnic clothes and paraphernalia and why not. Can you think of anything more special than to sit still and enjoy the moment instead of rushing around stressing about this, that and the next thing.

By the way, what a marvellous way to taste all the local wines. The various wineries can pack their own individually calibrated baskets, to harmonize each sip of their perfect nectar of the gods.

Please, don't put Salamis, Viennas ( oops, in Austria they are called Frankfurters ) or too spicy cuts of meat, because those usually overwhelm the wines so you can't taste the individual nuances of it.

Biggi