My god it's cold in Scandinavia

So, we're here. To be exact, the north coast of Zealand. In a small harbour village called Hornbaek. Marie has found us a cottage with sea views (from the top back bedroom) and we're starting to settle in nicely. A few minor hick-ups on the way. Pickfords decided to lose our furniture, then we discovered they had inadequately stored it, hadn't packed anything properly and transported it with as much grace as Laurel and Hardy moving piano's. Imagine taking your best wine glasses and throwing them off the top of a very high building - that'll give you some idea of the problems. Oh, and somebody decided to pinch a £2.5K Linn amp and CD. So, much of my time is spent being a part time lawyer.
On the Danish side of things, the boys' have started kindergarten (nursery) where all they do is play. Enough of getting them ready for University...we'll have them playing in sand until they're 6. Still, they'll be better pacifists for it. Another shock to the system was deciding to take them swimming - not to the pool but the "swimming hall". The reason why Danish porn is so liberal is that you're expected to change amongst the company of others. Now, I'm all for letting it out in the right circumstances but in front of school children is another matter (and not one which I intend to get arrested for!). After the "Mr Bean" style humiliation, we then are ushered into some cold showers. Fearing the worst, I puckered up. But no, cleanliness is next to godliness and so we were in the cold showers with some 20 other men. Seba and Oscar still haven't recovered. To make matters worse (how could it get worse) the water was 10 degrees less than it should have been in the pool. This last part is the sound of a grown man who has been in Malaysia for 5 weeks moaning.
Still, we're in liberal Denmark. As a member of the EU things can't get any more simpler. Well. Until 2 weeks ago I was technically an illegal alien. Stuff having Her Majesty's passport. The Danes basically want to keep all of their pork meat, sausages and beer for themselves (as Carlesberg adverts so consistently remind us). So, the Government here decided that me taking it easy for 6 more months was not something they fancied paying for so I had to cough up £10K or, in their inference, get out of town. Secret raids at midnight, bundled onto a beer truck bound for the UK, stripped of my dignity, force fed Gabledansk...it was all in my mind. In typical British stiff upper lip, I sent them my CV and told them to stop being so stupid! I was a man of culture, of taste, of fine breeding...none of this dole-money life for me. They got the message and designated me "official".
Marie is working in a top secret department for Danish railways...she is in charge of changing the tone of all the "bing-bongs" on the station. This level of change would be seen as catastrophic in Denmark so many committees are being deployed to assess the damage - you can see I am impressed by Danish bureaucracy. She is the main earner and keeping us 3 boys' accustomed to the life we love. She has a top job changing all the bing.........she has a top job and is enjoying it!
My life revolves around trips to the harbour to buy fish and bread and have a laugh with all of the workers who spend their time fixing boats and drinking beer (minimum £30K a year!!). Then its' off for a brisk walk on the beach in time to catch mid-day football on TV, then off to pick the boys' up and cook food. Life is sweet. Marie thinks I am bored but she doesn't know! I have also discovered a TV gadget on the Internet which lets you watch TV in any country...I am currently hooked on Egyptian soap opera called (sounds like) Camel-Dick. It is cheap and hilarious.
Today it snowed.