8 February - Le ski c'est chic

Especially if you can people watch in Meribel and Courcheval (colonised by russian oligarchs complete with own magazine in Russian featuring lots of ads for bodyguards, helicopters, diamonds and furs). But seriously, am now the proud owner of not one but two pairs of fabulous apres-ski boots, with various furry bits that delight me every time I stroke them (one is fake fur and the other one is er.. real, but it's only trimmings darlings, don't hold it against me, it's none of the precious ones anyway... not fox, not mink etc). And they were a serious bargain as in the sale and when I said 'Est que ce vous pouvez me donner un bon prix pour le deux?', the madame said 'Cent euros?' and I said 'Done' , as previous prix was 3 times as much. Happy as larry and faith in the bloody French was restored. That being the night also that the restaurant owner in St Martin gave us all a free lift five or seven miles down the road instead of calling joe le taxi. On previous holidays we've had to walk or beg after discovering that rich local taxi drivers down tools at ten pm or so having no need to put in the extra hours for more fares.

But I digress from the main subject. Yes, I can now do red runs happily (in good visibility that is) and so next time I'll be able to avail myself of the full complement of 600km of slopes (not for nothing is Trois Valles the largest resort in the world blah blah blah). Glorious. And no falls and no fallings out with the other 11 on the trip and especially pleased that Toph took to the slopes greedily too. His previous sorties had been in the minus 20 degrees offered by north American slopes in January and as such a totally not enjoyable trip or two fending off nose frost bite. He's not good enough to appreciate that the weather may be shit ie no blue skies and freezing, but that the snow is generally better over there. But he's with me now on the 'never in deepest winter'. I made a note several years ago to refuse any trips prior to March. Sorry, life's too short to be cold and eating indoors. Vive le sun which burnt my face despite lashings of factor 25 (I was too mean to go purchase total protection, but I know when I spot new lines I will regret it).
And another good news is that despite eating like a pig (for my standards that is, I have to note that I declined the dessert on offer every afternoon and night except for the creme brulee), my ass is apparently very much tightened, so said the BF on more than one occasion as I paraded around the sauna, and I didn't compare too badly with the 29 year old Polish beauty in the jacuzzy with us (G's girlfriend).

Phew, more when I get back the full use of my limbs, which of course are still throbbing a bit and that includes the arms, am not in the flush of youth anymore and it shows in muscle fibres taking some time to reform. Darn that it's awful grey and rainy here as usual...

I should also record a James Bond little feat performed by Toph. It happened like this. I had booked a much needed and difficult to obtain as they're super busy/booked up, one to one lesson with a ski instructor. For 3.45pm on Day 4. At 2.45 pm we go down (there's 4 of us) and at a crucial meeting of pistes, Toph insists that the best way back is via Piste 2. I disagree. And as we descend it's obvious we've gone the wrong way and will end up at a ski lift that we will have to take back up to the top where we've just come from and descend the way I thought we should in the first place. Bear in mind that this is possibly the 3rd time Toph ignorres my superior sense of direction and takes us down the wrong way.

And so it is that we start the queue for the skilift wiht lots of other people. None of whom is in the same foul mood as me, thinking, great, I'll miss the lesson, it's not the money, but there are no more to be booked and even if there were I don't want one on Day 5 just before my holiday ends, I need it NOW. On the gondola Toph is still arguing that we can make it... I say no we won't as it's now 3.15 and we have to go up and come down and for me it's almost the end of the day and I know full well accidents happen mostly when you're tired and my legs are tired.

Poor D. is on the gondola with us and has to listen to couple's spat. He stays out of it, especially when Toph suggest that as D. is the fastest/black run skier, he could ski down very fast and reach instructor and salvage part of my lesson. D. ,er, stays out of it. So we get of at the top and Toph who's not a great skier, takes off at major speed. I do worry for him but, I stick to my end of the day speed. And also because I'm enjoying my strop. As I turn at the last bend before the final slope into 'town', I see Toph and instructor below waiting for me. Instructor is not bothered though he points out that it's gone 4pm and by the time we take a lift up and come down, my lesson will be reduced to 30mins as he has another client after me.

But I take it, and tell Toph he can join. It's kind of useless but I appreciate the Milk Tray effort. Friends again. Ten years ago I'd have stormed off nevertheless, but I've grown up.