Pet Peevs

Thank goodness it’s April.

No more happy ski photographs on social media.  Hooray!!

I loathe skiing.  If I’m absolutely honest, it’s probably because my calves are too fat to fit into ski boots.  I made a decision on Day 2 of my one and only ski holiday that I would never do it again.  My feet turned blue from lack of blood supply thanks to my chubby cow hocks.  I wore bruises reminiscent of torture from medieval leg cuffs for weeks.  All those glamorous people ‘swooshing’ past me as I hobbled transformer-like trying to stay upright.

On our one trip up a ‘real’ mountain (clouds, blizzards and everything) the friend that was with me on the ‘nursery slope’ (oh don’t make me laugh) managed to push me off the ski chair when she was disembarking, down towards a vivid orange fence made from ‘DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS FOR FEAR OF DEATH’ crime scene tape.  I had to throw myself onto a random Austrian who was dressed from head to toe in vivid green like an excited gherkin in order to survive.  It wasn’t pleasant.

The same friend, also managed to take out the entire coffee queue as she hurtled down to the bottom of the slope screaming.  It made me laugh so much I couldn’t breathe.

It’s a jolly dangerous sport if you ask me.

It doesn’t help that I don’t like heights or being cold and seem to have a problem with balance.  Happy days.

I know so many people who absolutely love it.  Seriously?  Heading down a slippery cliff face at break neck speed on two pieces of plastic?  I can think of better ways to spend my time and my money.  Where are those pins…let me stick them in my face instead 😀

“Oh darling, I just go for the ‘apres ski'”  Do you really?  With a face tan like the Lone Ranger and after a day sweating in bri-nylon, no thanks.  Really, you go knock yourself out….literally!

Yes I am very glad it’s April.