Husky hunt

Ok highlights of the 20s part deux.

Imagine going all the way to Scandinavia, moving through Denmark and Sweden to Finland, taking the 13 hour sleeper train to Lapland, getting to Santa Claus village - and then being told there were no reindeers or huskies. Gutted.

I was moping round like a bear with a sore head. That's possibly because I hadn't shaved in 10 days and had a hangover that was attacking my skull like a chav battering his wife on Jeremy Kyle.

So I meandered around the village, out in the snow, minus 20 degrees, my beard freezing over until I resembled a poor man's Sean Connery. Yes, Santa had been great - I sat on his knee, trying to think unhomosexual thoughts, while he regaled me with tales of previous visits to Spalding. The toy section was amazing (I was 28 at the time), although I couldn't get past that bastard level on Space Invaders. But there were no animals. Until...

In the very far distance I heard a bark. And another. Was it a Pekinese being savaged by a wolf? Unlikely. I approached. The barking gets louder. A pack of hounds mauling a ferret? Perhaps, but...I run, realising what the sound must be, almost in slow motion. I fall, going head over heels into the crumbly snow. My trousers are soaked. I don't care.

By the time I arrived at the private husky farm, a full mile away from Santa Claus Village in a zone I would imagine no tourist ever sees, the noise was deafening. Probably 100 dogs in pens excited to see someone not called Helki Jancobsson or something similar. I trudged to the nearest one, ecstatic, and he licked my hand. A nearby door opened and an Ogreish Finn emerges. He is not happy. I can see that trouble is ahead, and I will need all my journalistic negotiating skills to survive.

Finn: "You should not be here. This is a private farm."
Me: "Fair enough, but since I am, will you take my photo?"
Finn: "Oh, OK."

And so he did. You can see one of several snaps he got at the top of this blog. I didn't push my luck and left, my frozen cheeks beaming. The dog's fur was the most perfect I'll ever feel.

I still had another day in Lapland, then Helsinki and on to Tallinn. But to a dog lover who'd travelled about 3,000 miles and 40 degrees, my favourite holiday moment was already secure.

*Away from my indulgence, please check out Rob Brydon singing on Youtube - songs that don't match up with a tune. Thanks to my workmate Adam for that.

*Nice to see Coventry nestling into a comfortable 13th in the Championship. The season might as well end now.

*We've started putting videos on the Johnston Press website - later in the week we'll have a link to LFPTV, on which I will be a newsreader. Fab.