I took my parents to see the giant of Basel who resides in a park near where I live. He's a friendly looking fellow, probably gets a bit cold in the winter as he only wears a toga; he's probably a bit lonely too . He actually wears his toga in quite a risquè manner - only covering half of his genitals which my dad gleefully noted by saying upon first inspection - " Look. You can see his beaver!" This I confess is all my fault as I educated my parents in the way of the beaver earlier in the week after mum kept on telling dad to put his badger away. (FYI - Dad's badger is actually the bushy mass of grey and black hairs he has on his chest that are so thick and wild up the top he sometimes looks as if a badger has been stuffed down his shirt.) Not something you want your dad shouting out in fortè voce but at least it means my parents actually pay attention to what I say ( sort of) and it is always nice to know you have been heard.
We also visited Thun which is a very pretty village situated on a lake of the same name. The water there is an icy mint blue and I would have loved to swim in it if I had come appropriately prepared. We had a lovely lunch in the town which we shared with a disabled pigeon - both of his feet appeared to be missing toes ( you know what I mean - bird anatomy is not my thing.) Dad reckons he had them lopped off deliberately. Dad is not trusting of birds at present having been recently assualted from on high. It probably explains the amount of roast chicken meals he ordered in The Lake District. Fear not though my father is a compassionate man - the memory will wane - and the birds will triumph again - insh'allah!