Krakow, Boxing Day 1990 - we'd driven there that morning from Zakopane, on the border with what was then Czechoslovakia, where we were staying, in the mountains - chocolate-box scenery, about 2 metres of fresh snow every 24 hours, and averaging minus 17 degrees. Even at that temperature, somehow the cold did not seem so bad - bright sunshine and very dry.
In comparison, Krakow felt like walking into a meat-safe set to its lowest temperature. A stunning city, still one of my absolute favourites, but the temperatures, and being surrounded by unforgiving brickwork were staggering in comparison.
I remember finding a bar (that I still mange to visit most years) that was owned at the time by a very genial Pole, who ran the place with the help of his wife and two daughters - who introduced me to the concept of vodka straight from the freezer - it was so cold it was literally syrupy, but hit like central heating when you could eventually get it down.
Bloody COVID

- 2020 was the first year I've not had a drink in there since
