Monday 15th February, 2010

There are certain similarities between ski holiday & working week mornings. Firstly you are required to get out of bed earlier than really feels healthy. Then you pull on a set of clothes that ordinarily you wouldn't want to be seen wearing in public. Then you trudge to the ski lift to join thousands of other punters all trying to get to the same place at the same time using the only mode of transport realistically available, having already paid a large sum of money for the privilege of doing so. Still, at least the cable car doesn't break down, the general humour is rather better, and there is the promise of much fun at the other end.

Today is first lesson day & we meet Paul, L'instructeur (The Edge Snowsports), at the top. Paul is a very fine fellow indeed. Endlessly patient & good humoured, he explains the basic principles to us with great clarity and enthusiasm, even though he's done it thousands of times before, and in a meaningful way, so that it is easy to put it into practice. He also finds challenges appropriate to the level of all group members so that everyone's confidence is boosted, rather than damaged.

I learned more in 5 minutes from Paul than I did in a whole week the year previous year when the best our instructor could manage was 'You ski like you are driving a Jaguar'. Initially I'd been quite pleased with this, as I thought driving a Jaguar would generally be regarded as a good thing. But eventually, as I excavated snow from my nostrils for perhaps the tenth time, it occurred to me that perhaps he might not be praising my technique, although when pressed he offered no useful remedial advice. All holiday I was approached by strangers saying they recognised me from the indentations of my face in the piste.

Back to today and, brimming with confidence after today's lesson, one of our number suggests returning to base via a route 'no more difficult than we had just done'. We were soon staring down a near vertical drop which had clearly been mislabelled on the map. It should've had a skull & crossbones next to it. At this point it dawns on me that skiing well seems to be at least 90% about overcoming your self preservation instinct. With brain telling me I absolutely should not be launching myself down this mountain, and sphincter muscle set to high pitched squeak, I set off and, thanks to the expert tuition, complete the journey mostly on ski, with no major damage but with a healthy regard for my own limitations.

Back to the chalet for cake, tea and dinner. A special birthday dinner for one of our party cooked by our excellent chalet hosts. Afterwards, the younger members of our group prepared a special delicacy for us called 'Jager Bombs'. A delightful concoction of Jagermeister (an evil spirit made from a blend of 50 herbs and spices - why does anything need to contain 50 herbs and spices?) mixed with Red Bull and apparently a special favourite of students the world over. We show those youngsters a thing or two, and retire to bed.