Skiing & Sunshine

Sometimes when I ski, I pretend I’m flying. I put loud music in my ears and go down the difficult runs so that no-one else is around to ruin my pretending.  My top three musical choices for this holiday?  The Matrix Trology & Inception Soundtracks, the three most recent Ministry of Sound Albums, and Greatest Hits of the 90s -oh, and don't forget tchaikovsky 'best of'.  It's an apocalyptic cheesefest-disaster of musical taste and an assault on the ears, but whatever makes you happy, right?

I like to think that to the well prepared mind, packing for holiday is a quick and simple event.  Not that I was prepared at all.  House needed tidied, bags needed packed properly, some last minute shopping needed done.  But never you fear, my ipod was up to date and my passport was in my handbag.  Essentials sorted.   As you'll know if you know me, I'm not exactly organised.  But it always works out (mostly).   Off to La Thile, Italy!

Despite the gazillion photos I snapped of the mountain, I have dedicated myself to whittling them down to a slim few for your gazing pleasure.  I can't guarantee they were the best, but they were the shiniest. 

The boy atop a mountain. 

Me not quite atop a mountain. 

You may have noticed the boy there on a snowboard in that first photograph.  Myself, I ski.  I learned when I was very little and hence cannot remember any frustration learning, being unable to remember when I couldn't ski.  My mum's friend was a ski instructor, and learning to ski in our freezing, icy-death cold scottish mountain ranges prepared me for anything (except the sunny-slush-snow, don't even get me started, I hate the slush snow).  

This year, I thought I'd branch out.  Expand my horizons.  Learn to snowboard. 

I did not learn to snowboard.

I learned several different tactics to fall, repeatedly and unforgivingly, flat on my back without (mostly) bashing my head.  The sympathy emanating from my loving boy as I lay crying upon a mountain, having battered my bottom against the ice for the upteenth time was lacking; mainly because he assumed I was having a girly tantrum, rather than a crippled coccyx.

Though I'm sure many of you would have loved to see the 12 inch butterfly shaped bruise across my bottom, I shall reserve my dignity somewhat. 

What better to cheer up a bruised bottom than beer with a view, or a hot chocolate or three. 

Also, I'm unsure as to whether this was a translational problem, or a little joke the hotel staff had going.  Can you see the writing in the welcome book below?  If not, it says 'coffee station provided in all rooms'.  Now.  Coffee station?  Great, I thought.  Fresh coffee in the morning, I thought.  In reality, all I could find was this kettle.  It does indeed contribute to the coffee making process, but it's not exactly a state of the art barista machine.  

Oh, and those are random feet outlines.

I shall leave you with more photos I couldn't leave out.  Do you ski or snowboard?  When did you learn?  Knitting/ski retreat?!

I was trying to finish my sprig sweater, but didn't manage!  

Evil snow bumps.

Tree-lined chairlift. 

Don't look down!

"Stop! Stop! Stop! I need to take a photoooo!"