Crazy? Three alarm clocks ringing in quick succession at the unearthly hour of 2am December 30, 2002, ensured I was up and about, in time to rouse Mike, my husband, and Hazel, my friend from schooldays. Thus began an epic journey for us three 70+-year-olds.
A taxi was calling half an hour later to take us to Heathrow to catch the 7.30am flight to Helsinki where we would change planes and travel on to Ivalo, well north of the Arctic Circle. We were on our way to Lapland for our daughter's wedding on January 4.
Did we ever think for one moment that Anna would opt for an ordinary, everyday type of ceremony in her hometown? Did we ever, in fact, dream that any young man would come along who could persuade her to marry him? So many wonderful young men had come and gone. So many broken hearts had been left behind.
I booked this trip way back in August so I must have been pretty certain that this was it. Last February I was taken by surprise when she rang me to announce that she wasn't returning to her prestigious well-paid job in Namibia as she'd decided to become a full-time adventure racer.
At the time I didn't ask any questions but I was amazed because she enjoyed her new job and had been looking forward to riding round her domain on her horse with her dog at her heels and she hadn't shown any sign of wanting to abandon this way of life.
She had sent a load of belongings ahead after Christmas but that was before she'd gone to Finland instead of off to Chamonix where she usually went to ski with her friends from Boxing Day on.
Anyway there we were in Heathrow an hour earlier than necessary, all excited in anticipation of this exotic holiday. As we waited for the check-in desks to open, I remembered what the taxi company had said, that it was better to be sitting drinking coffee an hour early rather than be caught in a traffic jam on the motorway an hour later, panicking in case we missed our flight.
The time passed quickly and on board the Finnair Airbus we found that no more than 60 people were travelling on that flight so we enjoyed almost individual attention from the charming Finnish crew. I don't normally like flying but once aboard the excitement takes over.
"Cold and getting colder" was the forecast for Helsinki. As we approached Vantaa Airport, I found myself looking down on a landscape transformed by ice and snow into a magical fairyland. With four and a half hours to wait and little to do at the airport we took a walk outside but the biting winds drove us quickly back into the warmth of the terminal building.
Waiting at Gate 17 we noticed Australians, Finns, Japanese, French, Germans and other nationalities, all well shod and heeled and wearing trendy sportswear, skiing enthusiasts on their way to a winter sports holiday. The plane this time was full.
Arriving in Ivalo, our eyes were wide in astonishment as we landed in the middle of the icy runway. Walking across the Tarmac I suddenly went into a skid in my city leather boots. Entering the building, we spotted Anna and Pasi, her fiancé, waiting with a trolley ready to collect our luggage.
People around were grabbing bags of skis from the carousel while we waited for our well-worn nondescript bags and suitcases. We were like fish out of water but who cares?
Pasi and Anna took our luggage in their Hiace van and put us on board the bus, which was waiting to take the passengers to their various sports centres and hotels. Our destination was Kiilopaa Fell Centre, 45km from Ivalo.
My first difficulty with the language and with the Euro occurred when the driver came to collect the fares.
"Three to Kiilopaa," I said, pointing to the three of us.
"One, eight," came the reply.
One, eight? One Euro 80? No that can't be right. Mentally calculating, I reckoned that £1.20 wouldn't cover three fares. Eighteen Euros? That's more like it. Twelve pounds sterling. I hand him two 10-Euro notes. No. That obviously wasn't enough. It can't be 180 Euros! A young man in front turned around, saying: "24 Euro. He tells you one fare costs eight Euro. He needs four more Euro."
Ah! At last the penny drops. I note that I ought to say eight Euro, and not eight Euros.
The bus set off and we eventually reached the centre in Kiilopaa where Pasi and Anna were waiting for us. They had already taken our luggage to our log cabin and now invited us to join them for an evening meal in the centre.
The set dinner in the dining room was finished but the café was still serving so we had our first taste of Finnish food, white fish in sauce with broccoli and potatoes.
During the week to come we would enjoy lots of smoked and fresh salmon as well as reindeer meat. Finns are big meat eaters. I found myself wondering how Anna will fare, being a vegetarian.
Then we walked for 15 minutes through the deep snow to our cabin. There were beds for 10 people but we three had it to ourselves. It was far warmer than my house ever is and we had our own sauna. There was a big log fire in the living room with plenty of logs and on the walls were deer antlers and a deer hide. Everything seemed made of wood, floors, ceilings, walls and furniture and with triple glazed windows you could forget the cold outside.
On entering our bedrooms, we discovered that Santa had been and it was as if we were little children again, opening the Christmas stockings, bursting with all kinds of goodies. Anna had always left stockings for us at home but this time she and Pasi had spent the festival with his parents in Karelia so we were having a second Christmas Eve.
Christmas is celebrated in a big way in Finland. It was a lovely welcome for us but as often happens when I am really feeling happy, the past suddenly came to mind. I recalled a Christmas 53 years earlier when times were really bad for my parents and they had warned my little sister that Santa wouldn't be coming to her that year. She went on hoping that he would come but he didn't and within three months she had died of meningitis.
Now as I looked at all my lovely presents, a great sadness enveloped me and I wished that I could recall the past and share those presents with my little sister for her last Christmas on earth.
However, I knew that this wasn't possible and that the present was what mattered just then. There had to be some element of anxiety because Anna's and my roles seemed to be reversing. There she was letting me be like a child again and it struck me that this year I hadn't made up a Christmas stocking for her. Plans for the wedding had over-shadowed the normal Christmas celebrations.
We would be staying for a week in that lovely cabin set in a land of snow and magic. We arranged to meet Anna and Pasi at breakfast next morning. Their cabin was two doors up from ours through the banks of snow. When they had left us we retired and we all slept like logs.
I set my alarm clock to go off at 8am. Back home it was only 6am but we had already forwarded our watches by two hours. Soon I heard the sound of a vehicle outside and saw flashing lights through the curtains. Looking out I saw the snow plough clearing the paths and tracks around the cabins. We expected it to be light around 9am and the light would last for over four hours although the sun never rises in winter.
Even so, there are lights everywhere so you are never in pitch darkness. The centre had been well lighted with candles in the windows and more candles burning in shades outside the entrance. These shades were sculpted from ice. Already I knew that we were going to enjoy this holiday and forget that we were all in our 70s.
We took it in turn to shower and then we dressed in thermal underwear, snow boots, furry hats, ski trousers and jackets, and glove linings and thermal outer gloves. As we set forth through the banks of snow to begin the first day of discovery and new activities we realised that it was New Year's Eve and that a day of adventure awaited us but that will have to be told in a separate story.