Thirty

A month ago I had my thirtieth birthday. I was all prepared to gnaw on a celebratory piece of shortbread to solemnise this occasion, when suddenly a horde of my friend showed up and drank all my beer:

They had come from Vienna, which is about a thousand kilometres eastwards from Lausanne, to throw me a surprise-birthday party (and R nine months pregnant, too!), which is just slightly beyond awesome. As retribution I will splash their likeness all over the internet, because that's just the kind of friend I am.

We had a full program over the weekend: The cathedral

which we left only slightly damaged behind

The chateau Chillion (which I have now seen trice - it is pretty, though)

and some bowling; here my friend Chruss demonstrates the perfect form for middle-aged males like us.

Last but not least we had some beer (the general opinion of the local  beers was devastating I am afraid. In the end, the tasteless aggression could not stand, and we had to drink them all),







saw the fattest dog of Lausanne

and had a good time here at the shores of Lac Léman. Thanks for coming (Boris' liver: and also for leaving again)!

P.s. (for the shmall one): Twix heisst jetzt Raider!