Pilatus Kulm, complete with zig-zagging track, scree slope and folded beds. A rather better shot will appear in a future book.
Chris was feeling a bit poorly, so we set out to buy her a hat. Just a peaked cap, like the one I bought near the Bourbaki Panorama (another story to tell one day), just SF 11 of shopping therapy, and we had agreed to go quietly. "Unless," I said, "we come across a Swiss oompah band in the streets and feel compelled to dance.
This is a Swiss Army Band, and it is better than a Swiss Army Knife. You can't quite dance to them, and they are deadly. Here is why:
|Alp horns (so-called), in fact disguised artillery that scared the pants off Napoleon (to Josephine's delight,|
but that's another story).
But wait until you look down one!
I gave these the professional once-over, and a wizened old soldier saw my knowing wince. He plucked my sleeve ad drew me to one side, then led me into a back alley, where he showed me these:
"Zis is why we are never invaded," he told me, with a gap-toothed old soldier's grin. "We possess ze world's only supply of weapons of mass distraction."