The White Stuff

We all returned safely from our now traditional half-term ski trip to the French Alps.  I am always so crippled with butterflies in the stomach beforehand, and indeed, they got the better of me somewhat this year.

What little confidence I gained last year seemed to desert me and I only skied a handful of times, albeit managing the final little piece of black run that ran down into the resort (that was almost fun).  Otherwise I kept to the greens and a little bit of a blue.  I did successfully negotiate a chair lift (my nemesis from last year) and even did so without falling over at all and despite feeling sick to my stomach the whole way up.

But it was the kids that amazed me.  Last year, Girlie lost all her confidence skiing with me (believe me, my skiing will knock the confidence of a world-class downhill skier), but this year we managed to persuade her to join an adult class and it all came back to her, with more on top.

The Boy just blew us away though.  He passed his 3rd star level with the ESF (French Ski School) and is now relatively comfortable on black runs.  He's really found something he loves to do - shame it's so bloody expensive!

So who knows what next year holds.  I think I might be better with the non-sliding sort of activity afforded by snow shoes, and failing that, at least I know that I am completely comfortable in a restaurant or bar practising my French and drinking gallons of 'vin chaud' or 'chocolat chaud'.