"Can I borrow your camera?" I ask my gingerbread husband.
"Of course," he says. "Why this new-found interest in photography?"
A valid question. Vast tracts of my life have gone unphotographed: I don't believe there's a single image of me between the ages of 14 and 20 (those pesky teenage years) and I myself am not known as Bavaria's answer to ... Anne Geddes. Yes, okay, okay, I admit it: I know so little about photography that I can't even name a famous photographer, bar the lady who takes pictures of babies in flowerpots.
"I have followers," I say proudly.
He looks alarmed.
"On the Internet!" I say.
He looks worried.
"Cyber-followers," I add, hoping to make it better. I don't. "See, my blog has followers - people who actually read my posts. And I have a sneaking suspicion that they're all quite nice, so I'm going to take a few wee pictures for them - of the snow and the pretty houses in the twilight."
"Aaaah," nods the gingerbread husband. I carefully pack his camera in my handbag and begin the long process of getting ready to head out into the freezing cold of a Bavarian winter - wrap scarf around the neck, twice, three times; pull hat down over eyes, pull scarf up over mouth; squeeze into coat; try to lower arms far enough to fish gloves out of coat pocket (note that all this extra padding means that I now have the same stature as a snowman: I can just about manage windmill motions with my arms and that's all.)
"So," says gingerbread husband. "When can I read this blog of yours?"
"Oooh, whooaaahahaha," I say - which is what a startled laugh sounds like when it's delivered through three layers of scarf. "Oh, my goodness, um, well, there's nothing on my blog that you don't know already. Boring stuff. Yawnworthy."
"You must be writing something interesting," he pointed out, "if you have followers."
"It's just about the weather and crochet and baking and stuff," I say. Which it is. Isn't it? "And you feature prominently as well," I add - because honesty is the basis of any relationship, right?
He gives me a wink. "Yeah, right."
Little does he know, I think. So I give him a kiss and make a run for it, arms flailing, scarf trailing. Phew, that was close!
Yes, I'll show him my blog. Some day. I promise. In the meantime: best wishes from the gingerbread house!