Viking ways, a millennium later

Viktor was shivering as he walked to the busstop in his unbuttoned jacket. His Spanish colleague Ramon wrapped his woolen scarf closer round his neck and beamed at the frost-covered trees and all the Christmas illuminations. "Isn't it beautiful! I love winter! But I'm sure this is nothing for you, compared to Sweden. Didn't you say that it was thirteen degrees minus last year?" Viktor tried to relax his stiff jaws enough to let a few words slip out. "Thirty," he said. "So this is like summer for me."

Ramon took a silly-looking hat and a pair of furry gloves from his briefcase. "Wow! Let's walk into town then! For me, this is like a polar expedition! But I enjoy it!"

Viktor would have liked to say no, but he was afraid his clattering teeth would drown the sound. Silently he trudged on along rue de la Gare, through the snowdrifts, sliding on the icy patches.

The thermometer at the railway station showed -1, and spring in Luxemburg was only four months away.