I just spent a fabulous week skiing in France. I didn't start skiing (at least downhill skiing) until quite recently, put off partly by blank terror about sliding downhill out of control at breakneck speeds, and partly by its reputation as a posh person's sport, not having any particular desire to hang out with ex- (or current) private school kids and the London-Home Counties nouveau riche (or the vieux riche either, come to think of it). But I've learned to cope with both fears. A couple of amazing teachers have turned me into a half-way capable skier, good enough to get down most slopes without falling over (thankyou Domhnall and Ewan). And I've learned that despite my blatant and unwarranted prejudices, skiing is also for the cool people (thankyou to too many old and new friends to name!).
Like so many other lucky people before me, I've discovered I love skiing holidays. Mountains, snow, blue skies, sunshine (if you're really lucky!), fresh air, exercise, good food and drink, great company, fun and play, surrounded by happy people who're out to enjoy every minute of the day. The only possible thing to worry about is catching the last lift home, or falling off a tricky button tow.
This year we took some friends along for the ride. People did look at us a bit strangely when they appeared... We're working on a little documentary about their trip. Watch this space!
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