Two years ago, for my fortieth birthday, we went to Switzerland for a week. It was a stunning location, with the pistes right at the top of the mountain. Fabulous right? Yes, fabulous, providing you don't have an irrational fear of heights, and as every piste was fringed by sheer, death defying cliff edges (slight exaggeration maybe), I was convinced I would fall over at every turn. Consequently, I never turned! I skied across the slope...then fell over...for a week! Skilled artists would struggle to re-create the glorious shades of blue and purple my legs became, and a horrifically bruised coxics made falling on my bottom a scream - literally! On the day of my birthday, having deposited the kids in ski-school we set off to 'ski' one of the lesser red runs (supposed to be intermediate, actually a vertical death trap!) To say I skied at all would probably force a re-definition of the word 'ski'. At one point I begged my husband to leave me on the slope, believing hypothermia a less painful option than continuing to 'ski'. For some reason, unknown to both of us, he didn't leave me, and we made it to the bottom. It had taken over an hour to complete a run that should have taken 15 minutes, and I was sore, tired and disheartened to say the least. The only way back to the top of the slope, and our children, was via a T-bar lift. For those of you who haven't experienced this contraption, imagine an upside down ships' anchor attached to a metal rope that drags you uphill in pairs side by side. The idea is that the bar sits behind your thighs, and pulls you gently uphill. The idea is not, I repeat not, to decide halfway up that your legs are very tired, and you might just sit down a little bit. It wasn't pretty! It also meant I had to get back down to the bottom before I could get back on again! You guessed it, I took my skis off and walked!
Last year we went to Bulgaria. No massive cliffs. Nice wide slopes. Lovely ski instructor. Dislocated thumb! Yup, I goofed again! Don't get me wrong, I did ski last year. Even the corners. Unfortunately I managed to tangle my skis with my ski poles on a particularly flat part of a slope (looking at the view) and did a spectacular swan dive into the ground, causing my thumb to protrude at a significantly un-natural angle! I shoved it back in again to avoid the embarrassment of being transported downhill in the emergency skidoo, and continued the holiday with painkillers and copious amounts of beer!
So, as I pack the cases, and organise the currency, and book the dog into kennels I can't help but wonder what embarrassment and damage I will cause myself this year. Still, it could be worse. Don't get me started telling you about the disasters I caused myself on 'Sun' holidays! At least ski holidays have an abundance of ice to chill my aching bones!!
(PS. At the time of writing this, I am signed off work with back problems and am troughing back morphine and diazepam....typical me eh? This year's ski holiday could involve more beer ... less ski!!)
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