Tall Tales

A snowHead

My first trip to pas de la casa had a near death experience for not just me but all 3 of us in the group after only being there about 2hrs.

After a day of traveling and being marched up the hill to our hotel hunger was setting in, We remembered passing a Burger King on the way up the hill so that was the obvious option for something quick and easy.
The place was packed with like minded people, Inside every table was in use and outside all but one.
Feeling like we'd won a war actually getting a seat it soon became clear why said table was empty. there was a steady drip of run off water from a sheet of ice melting on the roof and landing in the dead center of the table. After about 5 minutes of sitting there an other table became free and we swiftly pounced before any one else could. The very second the last of our three trays hit the new nice dry table there was a crack, scraping sound and a bang. The sheet of ice had decided enough was enough and it would no longer sit in the afternoon sun to slowly waste away to nothing, it was making a break for it and not giving a fiddlers about what was below it.
I turned around to see a completely flattened steel table and four chairs with their legs spread wider than an actress in those adult films I've been told about.
Staff came out and slid what remained of the solid lump of ice down the stairs and onto the street as if nothing had happened, That in its self was still about 4ft x 4ft. Picked up the scrap metal and moved it to the side and walked back in with out checking if anybody was hurt or the state of the remaining ice on the roof. Shocked

A snowHead

@Stecleary84,
The last time I went to Pas I saw that happen to several cars. Windscreens smashed, roofs caved in. A real mess.

Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?

Re Doctor Smash

My mother in law was treated by him when she took an allergic reaction to her sun cream...her swollen face resembled a medicine ball.....laughing didn't help!!

Re Cheese.

When my daughter was about 8 years old, she thought it was hilarious to eat a mouthful of Boursin Cheese first thing in the morning, sneak over to my sister in law (who was asleep and hung over), put her mouth 2" from her nose...and breath out.....and then RUN.

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@martinm,

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Rewind one year.

Tromso, near the top of Norway. Same ship. Could see a hill with ski lift from the ship. Everyone going on about going skiing, most of us had never tried it before.

Now, anyone that has been in the Forces will know that in the early 90s the kit you had done its job but wasn't great. Obviously we had full foul weather kit, which also doubled nicely as foulies while skiing but was very shiny.

Most of the ships company made its way to the slope, those that had tried skiing before passing on tips to those that hadn't got a clue.

First button lift. Most of us didn't get more than 20 yards up them. Fell off and suddenly those following up on the lift were slaloming their way, trying to miss the bodies going in the downward direction, remember we would go faster on our shiny foulies than on the skis.

Gravity won on a few occasions and then something weird happened. I managed to stay on the lift all the way to the top. S hite, what happens now? I'm at the top and need to get down. That first time must have taken a good hour to cover about 500 yards but it felt good.

Up on the lift again and I'm away, I'd caught the bug. Nice and cautious coming down but not one lad. He managed to get himself to the top, would point his bits of wood down the slope, get to the bottom, fall over, finally come to a stop, pick himself up, get back to the lift and away he went again. We all learnt very quickly to stay out of his way when he was coming down. Smile

Then we found the chair lift, this was far more socialable and easier but the run from the top of the chair was red run. Don't forget most of us hadn't had lessons and only been on skis for about 1/2 an hour.

What I can recall, we all survived, nothing broken and alot were back the following day to hone their new found skills.

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You are all legends....and I must make an effort to meet some of you on the slopes.

It has been somewhat of a revelation to find that anyone is interested in my 45 years of skiing memories, especially as Lady F says that I'm an Old Windbag, who talks an endless stream of unmitigated bollox.

FWIW. My tip (worked out over many years) for skiing with your better half (and married life in general), is accepting the fact that you can be "Right", or you can be "Happy", but you can't be both!

After all it is free

@GaryCantly you just brought back memories of a return from the Gulf one january in the late 80s when I was RN. We called in at Piraeus and the Greek Navy offered us the services of a bus to get to Mount Olympus ski resort. After six months of hot weather ops no one had anything for winter so we cobbled together whatever we could find to ski in, mostly the (wonderfully shiny) pusser's foulies. All went well until anyone fell, at which point they accelerated uncontrollably down the hill on their shiny backsides, leaving skis behind. In the end the most able (relative term!) skiers hung back collecting abandoned skis on each run.

What the Greek families thought about this bunch of blue clad loonies in old woolly hats and gloves and, in a few cases, anti-flash hoods as balaclavas, tobogganing down their hill is not recorded! We had a good day though.

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You have all brightened a dreary and dull Monday.....now back to work. Thank you all. Very Happy

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Two years ago, I was invited out to Val Gardena with the then girlfriends family. All started off well and it was a great holiday, with good skiing, great food and drink, that was until we hit mid week.

Now her family (some with Italian decent - who lived there) where good drinkers, and what I had failed to realise was that they had made it there mission to introduce me to said culture. We've all gone out for dinner and as is customary finish it with a couple of limoncello. This proceeded into the nearest pub, and a couple more drinks.

All fine .... now what I shouldn't have blurted out next is 'why are you sipping that shot' to one of her Italian relatives.
He hands me said shot, and having just graduated from university and thinking I can handle anything they throw at me, neck it in one. It was vile ... and I wish no one has to experience grappa ever but all was still good. What followed was a grappa for me with every round, still all okay.

Needless to say I ended up rather tipsy and staggered back to the hotel me and the missus where staying at. She had left earlier in the night with her dad, and being unable to locate the night porter bell, proceeded that is was appropriate to serenade her and throw stones at the window to wake her up, which i'm not sure went down to well with the rest of the guests, but it worked.

Now the next day, we had planned to go tobogganing and in no fit state to ski in the morning we (I - her less so) stumbled down to the bar for a hot chocolate to ease the hangover and meet her brothers. I'm not sure this really worked as by the time we left to board the bus I had turn a lovely shade of green, the same colour as my jacket; said bus journey did little to help and by the time I had got off I was looking for the nearest toilet.

Upon finding the nearest toilet and making myself less green, I proceeded to act as if nothing had happened and head off to the tobogganing. What I had failed to realise was that the girlfriends dad had happened to go to the toilet at exactly the same time I had very violently made myself feel better, all whilst the girlfriend showed everyone my amazing singing skills which unbeknown to me she had decided to film the previous night. I was greeted with everyone reciting my amazingly original lyrics, laughter and a rather red faced me when he Dad asked if I was now okay. Least to say the girlfriend didn't approach me till we arrived back at the hotel.

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@Col the Yeti. I'm glad someone knows what I'm on about. Very Happy

Pussers foulies really was the way to go. Very Happy

Mine is a tale of lies and deceit, but in my defence, it's OK to lie to your kids, right?

I'll start off by submitting exhibit A, a screenshot from my Ski Tracks app:

You will notice the moderately high maximum speed!

I was on a family ski holiday with my wife, her newly separated friend and all of our respective offspring, most of them of the teenage variety. We also had my three teenage boys' cousins with us, so all in all we had four teenage boys and four teenage girls, so you could almost smell the testosterone. The four lads all had Ski Tracks and were fiercely competitive. Added to this, I started skiing when I was 45 and the lads had long since overtaken me, both literally and metaphorically, in the skiing department (and boy, didn't they let me know it on an almost hourly basis!). So it was with great pleasure that I showed them my new "high score" when we stopped for a hot chocolate Tigne. They reacted with the predictable consternation that this old fart had whooped their skinny teenage butts.

What they didn't know, and still don't to this day, is that this maximum speed was actually achieved on the funicular railway heading up from Val d'Isere! I forgot to pause it and the funicular runs through a tunnel so Ski Tracks had lost GPS (so it didn't know I was climbing) and assumed, using the motion sensor, that I was skiing very quickly in a straight line. As did they lads.

Maybe it's time I told them .....

..... Nah!

You know it makes sense.

Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:

A snowHead

2nd hand story....Our school went on a ski trip. I couldn't go because it was expensive and they were all posh. My school buddy (according to every available account) managed to cut off part of his ear using his own ski while it was still attached to his foot. I can only confirm that he came home missing half of his ear. 35 years on I still regret not seeing how he managed it.

A snowHead

In St Anton. It snowed 4 metres the week we were there, so it was a bit like Armageddon. Anyway, at the end of a day's skiing in near-white-out conditions we jump on the bus from the Nassereinbahn back home towards St Anton. Being New Year it was getting dark. Oh dear, we're on the bus heading away from town in the wrong direction, towards St Jakob; no worry the bus just goes round in circles and the last bus of the day is some time off. It's nice and warm, and dry, and comfortable on the bus. So the bus reaches St Jakob and, ignoring the queue of people (both of them) at the bus stop waiting to go back into town, terminates his service. He kicks us off. Fortunately the people at the bus stop are Austrian so are able to explain to us in English that the bus driver isn't taking any more passengers because of the snow.

The four of us trudge off back towards town. This is 2 or 3 km. In ski boots, with skis, in a blizzard. These things are sent to try us. After a while, the road is closed. There are police keeping it closed; they will allow cars through as it's just been ploughed, and cars won't be in the danger area for long, but not people as there is a high avalanche risk. So now what? Well, we take our lives in our hands and carry on walking; still with our new Austrian friends. Go quickly, says the policeman helpfully.

To add insult to injury, the bus which turfed us out sails past us heading back - empty - to St Anton.

Very scary. Eventually we found a cab.

Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?

There is, in Bourg Saint Maurice, a splendid community of Old Farts that congregate in January of each year, in their camper vans, to see out the season. Every one of them is over 70, most qualify for a free lift pass and they can be found in the area specially designated for parking up these mobile homes.

How do I know this?...Well, it was a discovery I made quite by chance, about 8 years ago, when myself and Lady F were skiing in Les Arcs and staying at The Golf Hotel.

On our way over to Arcs 1600 we were politely stopped by an elderly gent, who had skied over to us on long Lacroix skis. He was a solidly built 6'3", sported a stubbly grey beard growing out of a friendly face and was dressed in quality black gear....all topped off with a tanned leather helmet, which wouldn't have looked out of place on someone being shot out of a cannon.

"'S'cuse me" he said, in a deep Cockney voice, "Oim tryin' t' find Arcs Eigh'een 'Undred, but keep endin' up 'ere. Can you 'elp?"

"Of course" we said. "We'll take you there".

We caught the chair that was close by and started making our way over to 1800. We all got on like a house on fire and by the time we got to the top, it felt like we had known each other for a lot longer than the short time that chair took to reach its destination.

His name was Peter and he used to run a successful Tyre company in London. He was married to Betty and was currently staying in "Borg St Morris" as he called it, along with an eclectic mix of old codgers...who included Geoff (more of him later) and Dermot (a mad Irishman with an Alsatian, who got drunk most evenings and then broke things).

It turned out that Peter had a gammy left knee, which meant that he had to sit on the outside of the chair, so he could do a "controlled collapse" off to the side, thus avoiding any potential chaos on disembarkation.

As we left the chair behind, his dodgy knee gave him a unique skiing style.....he would start off at the top right hand side of the piste and then with a sort of "Iambic Pentameter" rhythm (where he made a long turn followed by a short turn), would end up at the left hand side. Then like the carriage on an old fashioned type writer, would have to reset again, by traversing back to the right.

We had such a laugh, that when we arrived in 1800, we agreed to meet up each day and ski together for the rest of our holiday. He asked if it would be OK if Geoff joined us as well. I said, "The more the merrier."

The following day, we waited at the allotted time outside the Golf Hotel. Peter arrived on time, but said Geoff would be another half an hour. He then said that he had to go and buy some underwear....and given he was hopeless at shopping, persuaded Mrs.F to go as a locum (for Betty). Amused, she was happy to oblige, so went along in an advisory capacity.

Messages done, we clipped into our skis and waited for Geoff. It wasn't long before, round the corner, stumped a wee man in his late 70s, wearing a green woolly hat and carrying a Snowboard. He reminded me very much of Compo, from Last of the Summer Wine. He was quietly spoken with a Northern accent and talked with a slight hesitation, not unlike Ronnie Barker's Arkwright.

Any concerns that I had about Geoff's prowess as a Snowboarder were quickly put to rest....he was brilliant. On one particularly fast run, he skidded to a halt at the bottom, turned to me and said in his soft Northern brogue, "I were goin' that fast, mi snot turned to vapour!"

We had a brilliant week with these old characters and became firm friends....but we hadn't met the now famous Betty, so invited them both over to the hotel towards the end of the week.

They arrived early evening. Betty (who hated snow and skiing, but liked shopping), was a glamorous lady in her late 60s, dressed in classy designer kit and with a healthy tan. After saying our hellos, Betty insisted on taking Lady F to the supermarket to hunt for extra booze. As they entered the drink section, she pointed to some bottles of wine and with a wicked glint in her eye said, "That's Peter's favorite wine."......It was labelled "Fat B@st@rd".....but wine was unanimously rejected in favour of bubbles, so they ended up with a bottle or three of Prosecco....then as you can imagine, an excellent evening ensued.

A firm friendship was made and any time we are in the area, I give them a ring so we can catch up and ski with the friends that we made on that holiday.

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@karin, @jedster, "Dr smash" now that's a name I had forgotten, he had a somewhat mythical aura about him when I worked out in meribel in the mid to late 90's, not sure I ever knew of anyone who went to him but everyone knew of him, I got the impression that you would rather see Dr crippin before going to "smashey and nicey"

i remember my first ever ski holiday, it was to val thorens in the early 90's, we were leaving resort on the coach to get the evening (party) snow train from moutier. when by the time we had arrived at les menuires to make some more guest pick ups, everyone on the coach, including our rep, had noticed that the brakes were smoking and the driver seemed to be erratic. at this point the rep had a "sudden" change of plan and decided he did not need to go to moutiers after all and shot of in the distance, not before some guests ad voiced concerns about the coach.
what ensued was the scariest 45minutes of our lives with the driver seeming to use another coach in front as a safety mechanism and hoping that the other coach would slow us down if the brakes finally failed, as he was up his a$$e for the rest of the journey down the winding mountain road, no matter what speed the other coach achieved.
i have never been so relieved to be on the valley floor in all my life, i remember we even had a couple of R.A.F fighter pilots on the coach and i think looking at the terror in their faces terrified me the most!!!!

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We had arrived just after the shops had shut.
It wasn't a problem as we smugly had a packet of pasta and a bottle of sauce in our luggage.
Ahh - hadn't thought about light bulbs - for some reason they all were blown ?
Never mind, we managed to cook and eat by the light of the television.

The next morning we skied to Plagne Centre and bought a pack of 12 light bulbs --> straight into the backpack.

Next stop - coffee and croissant.
Erm, what then ...
Let's go and do the Rochette black run and head back to Belle Plagne.

After Rochette:
Lets go and do the jumps in the snow-park.

That was fun ... lets do them again ... and again,
now let's go up to the glacier
and so on ...

On arriving back at our place, just after the last lifts shut:
Sudden realisation that we had skied all day with a backpack full of light bulbs.

Truly amazing that they survived.

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Dr Smash - I have seen him with various ski racers in previous years when the British Champs were held in Meribel. Once he had ascertained that no major damage had been done, he used to ask the kids if they wanted to carry on racing for the rest of the week. If so, he did a nice line in plaster casts that would allow the wearer to hold a ski pole.

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I was hiking up the side of a glacier on Mt Rainier (OK, not sliding, but there was snow and ice), with Mrs L and my business partner. I was very fit, Mrs L less so, and D was a fat, lazy smoker. So, I began to get ahead, would sit on a rock for a couple of minutes for Mrs L to catch up, and a couple more for D. And so it went on, with the waits getting longer as we gained altitude and lost energy. Eventually, Dave pulls up breathless and grey. After a few minutes' recovery, he pants "what would happen if we met a bear up here?". "D, that's not my problem" I say.

Anyway, we head down from that point, considering a heart attack to be a more likely scenario ... when, would you know it, we spot a bear at 20 yds! (I did the decent thing, and stayed with the group giving Bruin a wide berth.)

After all it is free

Skiing in NZ with my brother and his wife, we were sat at a picnic table outside a snack bar. There was a bench seat against the wall of the snack bar with a guy reading a newspaper sat on it, above the guy was a kea (NZ mountain parrot) stood on the guttering.
My brother said "wouldn't it be funny if that kea had a dump now". Now everyone knows that keas are mischievous but this little fellow went above and beyond as we all turned to look and a stream of kea poo exited from its back bottom. The vile stream hit the guys shoulder and head, splattering over his paper. We should have been more sympathetic towards the guy but he had left the scene long before any of us could get up off the ground.

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Posted many years ago
Arrived in Livigno after the usual long transfer and after checking into my hotel went for a couple of beers which merged into happy hour and lead to a rather later than expected return to my room.
Waking up a couple of hours later needing a pee and forgetting I wasn't at home I walked to what I thought was the loo door until at the same time the light in the corridor clicked on and to my horror I heard the door lock behind me.
This was seriously not good because
A There was no heating in the corridor
B. I really needed a pee
C. I sleep in the buff
After the first few minutes of blind panick I decided that I would have to brave the hotel reception only to find a notice on the door saying closed until the morning.
On returning to my room and getting increasing cold and in need of a pee and bearing in mind the corridors and stairs were marble I decided that I would go to the bottom of the stairs for a pee rather than have a Niagra falls effect
On reaching the bottom level I found a cleaners trolley with a bucket and probably had the most needed pee in my life although I still had the naked hypothermia problem and knowing that the couple I had met on the bus were on the top floor decided that perhaps they wouldn't mind a naked guy asking to sleep on their floor made my way up the stairs.
To my delight at the top I found a storage cupboard with towels and sheets and took several armfuls back to my corridor where I made a tent with a handy chair and eventually spent the night.
I must admit that reception were a bit surprised to find a naked guy wrapped in a sheet banging on the door as soon as they got in but they let me into my room where after putting some clothes on I decided to have breakfast before dealing with the cleaners trolley.
Feeling a lot better I went back to my room only to discover the cleaners trolley outside my room but now with several cleaning cloths in my bucket of pee, at this point I went skiing 😳

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1991. Tignes. After skiing 2 days off piste with Evo 2 on real skis, I booked in for their torchlight descent along with some 3rd week skiers I was with. The format was last lift up to top of Tovierre, meal with wine, then ski down to Val Claret. I took opportunity to fill a large Grolsch bottle with red wine ( Bross Top) and had lighted flame in one hand, and full bottle of wine in other. No alcohol had been consumed prior to this, none, I swear wink

We set off, probably 50 folk, wind picks up, blows out most of torches, a skiddo at the back tells us to divert from Piste H to Trolles as it's less windy. They re-light the flames. ( Only about one person in 3 had a torch) I was loving it, looking after 3 petrified Irish girls. ( the wine was popular) Now Trolles with wine in one hand and a flame in the other is great fun. We got down without much incident, ( I think) fairly slow, and Evo 2 did their best to look after everyone. A few more drinks in the Alpaka and a trek across the lake and the night was done. Never saw the Irish lasses again! Never seen the 3rd week skiers again either but they loved it!!

Wonder why these evenings no longer happen?

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Elf and safety probably. Drunken skiers and flaming torches, what could possibly go wrong?

We went beer and gluwein fuelled night sledging in Zell last year, no flames, lit by electric, 4km winging route with some alarming drops over one side in a lot of places .

I caught up with my youngest daughter (hot chocolate fuelled only) who was without sledge. "What happened?" "I was heading for the edge with the big drop so steered to the other side and fell into the ditched." "And the sledge is where?" "Oh I was getting back on it and it just went off on its own over the big drop"
Chances of retrieving it was slim so we went 2 to sledge down the rest of the run, i reckon the farmer had a few toboggans to recover every morning.

had a similar sledging incident at La Plange, there were 30 of us on a boys trip, we all booked on to the sledging trip one evening! each had a head torch and a plastic tray with steering/brakes. if you pulled too hard on one side you immediately span out of control and if you didn't keep pressure on the brakes all the time you reached max velocity in about 30m and had no chance of control! suffice to say we nearly lost one of the group. Nigel managed to leave the piste at such a rate that he actually landed in a tree!! he was at the back of the group and nobody had witnessed his exit. climbing out of the tree was the easy bit, finding his tea tray and clambering back up to the piste took him 30 minutes. He eventually arrived back in one piece, cold and knackered!

Fun times

You know it makes sense.

Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:

On a girls ski trip mid-March a few years ago, the snow was decidedly slushy by mid-afternoon, so we decided to make a last run of the day and then head back to the hotel. This run was suffering quite badly - very chopped up with mounds of wet, porridge-like snow, tricky to manoeuvre in or around.

My friend, who was less experienced than the rest of us, was finding it tiring and difficult so when an equally-unskilled chap skied across her path, they couldn't avoid each other and a slow-motion crash ensued. No-one was hurt, but they had become entangled in skis and poles and she was sitting on the chap's head, unable to extricate herself - he was similarly bogged down. All we could hear from where we stood, a few metres below this tableau, was her embarrassed apologies, "oh dear, I'm SO sorry, I'm trying to move, I promise - Oh, dear, I'm so, so sorry....." and his - somewhat muffled - assurances that it was OK. She has never lived it down, and to this day, remembers that her main concern, as she sat on this stranger's head, was that she'd had Goulash Soup for lunch Shocked

A snowHead

@gazzaredcruiser, @t44tomo, my friend Andy was killed in a sledging accident in Schladming in 2015 on a night time fun outing of just the sort you have described.
Dark-Icy-Trees...head first.

Such a nice guy, he left two lovely daughters and a heartbroken wife.

A snowHead

Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see?

A near miss for me.

Skiing back to town on my own at the end of the day in Whistler I wasn't going too fast -- last run of the day, fading light, chopped up, that's when accidents happen etc -- I wasn't the fastest on the mountain, but I was making progress on a basically empty long, wide piste.

A few hundred yards below the piste dog-legged left and across the middle was a "caution / slow down" type barrier and a mountain worker on foot. Similar manned barriers were higher up the mountain with cheery workers reminding people to slow down.

As I approached she was waving her arms above her head seemingly at me. I thought that was a little unfair -- I wasn't going all that fast -- but I slowed down anyway went towards the right side of the piste.

I checked up the piste quickly over my left shoulder and couldn't see anyone else: so she was definitely waving at me and if anything the waving was becoming more intense as I slowed down. Odd. So I pulled up near the edge of the piste.

As I slowed to a stop there was an almighty woosh and a rescue sled heading along the fall line went within a few foot of me at whatever the terminal velocity of an unmanned rescue sled was on that slope.

I never found out for sure, but I hope it was empty as it continued off the piste, down a small bank and into a wood. Uphill the piste patroller came into view and slowed his forlorn chase as it sounded like the sled thudded into a tree (and/or he realised he wasn't going to have to treat me.)

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back in the days of the old yugoslavia, i dislodged one of my teeth by acrobatically eating a ski, with blood pouring from my mouth i was directed to the local dentist, the lad pointed to the door and ran off, the door opened with a hammer horror creak, and i entered the dimly lit corridor, at the end of the corridor there was an open door and a 90 year old man beckoning me towards him, he spoke no english, but the problem with my tooth was obvious, the room just had one light in it, one lightbulb swinging from the ceiling, he got out his torch and he surveyed the damage, he had a good look, his breath wreaked of tobacco, he went back to his tool bag and got out his rusty plyers, by now i was shi.......ing myself, but in one almighty yank he pulled my tooth out, he gave me a tablet and that was that, after about 20 minutes there was no pain and i was back skiing. in other news, has anyone been to been to morzin in switzerland and been on the dreaded ballcrusher button lift, now theres a story.

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Somewhere in Austria, very foggy day with virtually no visibility. Girlfriend and myself decided that the fog would eventually lift and decided to get one last run in before going home.

Got off the chairlift and she was desperate for the loo, couldn't see any facilities nearby so skied down the slope a little bit and noticed some nearby slopeside trees, suggested that she could use the spot as it was surrounded by bushes

Next thing I knew there were great howls of laughter and encouraging shouts, the fog lifted and she was squatting directly underneath a chairlift, much to the amusement of all on board

She was not amused and frosty relationships ensued

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Then you can post your own questions or snow reports...

@rungsp, That is so sad to hear; it's pretty sobering to think how things can, so easily, end in tragedy.

After all it is free

The recent post I wrote about Lady F's first tentative forays into skiing, triggered a wave of nostalgia that has had me reaching into the deep recesses of a dusty cupboard, to fish out the photo album from that time....so please bear with me as I take a trip down memory lane, while paying tribute to my better half's rise to skiing glory...which culminated (on her last holiday) in her skiing down the timed slalom in EK and being told by the instructor, that it had been "Textbook".

On opening the album, I see it is dated 1986 (yikes!!) and I'm immediately transported back to that time, with all the associated memories flooding back like it was yesterday.

Some of the best and most pertinent moments of that first holiday were beautifully captured by those on-slope photographers, who would suddenly materialize with camera in hand, as if beamed down from a spaceship. So good were they at their craft, that if you made the effort to go and see their work (as displayed in their little studio), you usually ended up buying it.

What these photos clearly depict, is someone who is the very picture of misery. There she is, with her shoulder length, curly auburn hair, that has frozen stiff in the cold, is covered in fresh snow and is sprouting out from under her woolly hat like the plumage of an Alpine tree on a cold January morn.

The hat in question had been knitted by her good self especially for the occasion and sported two, now frozen Pom Poms, dangling from the end of their umbilical cord....and every now and then, an erratic movement would cause them to smack her across the face, adding to the misery....but at the same time, spurring her on, like a WC skier in the starting gate before their run, who has had snow put down their neck.....But if you look very carefully, you can also see the chin jutting forward in Celtic defiance....and it was that look that convinced me that this was worth pursuing.

Our second holiday, also captured on film, was to La Plagne...and this is where the more devious side to my OH came bubbling to the surface. After all the torment I'd put her through, she decided that it was high time that she got a little personal amusement at my expense.

We somehow managed to find a wonderfully chivalrous local Instructor, who answered to the name of Rene (and was also the proprietor of Le Loup Blanc Restaurant, at the bottom of the Chairlift in Plagnes 1800). You know the type - wipe the snow off the chairlift; carry your skis when not skiing; put you together again after a fall; pull you up hill to conserve your energy etc. etc....in other words, charm personified!!

As you can imagine, this went down exceedingly well with her good self....she had a ball with him, as being looked after like a princess is never a bad thing.

Now, as the week went on, her cunning schemes started coming to fruition...

After a couple of days, I was told that she had arranged a private lesson for me, with Rene. "What a nice gesture", I thought....little knowing the underhand nature of the plot that they had concocted between them. She had secretly given him a camera , told him to take me on (my very first) Off-Piste lesson and then photograph the result.

She had never seen me fall and decided it was high time that situation was rectified....and the results recorded for all to see. Rene was more than happy to oblige.

When I turned up for the lesson, he innocently suggested we try some gentle Off Piste, that was easily accessible from the lift. I readily agreed, so the trap was now primed and ready...it was March, the snow was deep and heavy and I was on 195 Volkl Renntigers (which had never seen anything but nicely groomed runs). The only element stacked in my favour, was the very smart Goretex Event Fartbag, which would at least keep the snow out....though the colourful Blizzard Headband, would do little in that regard.

Well if it was falling she wanted, it was falling she got....Head Plants, Wipeouts, Yard Sales....all recorded for posterity, on a complete roll of film (36 photos of it!!)

It wasn't particularly steep, but I simply could not make any turn, of any description and in any direction, without falling over. I have to say, this did a great deal for Lady F's confidence and inner contentment. Knowing that I was so completely sh1te at this, seemed to give her a renewed sense of purpose. It also gave me a salutary reminder of how frustrating it is to be completely hopeless at something....and the importance of empathy in all this.

Her second slice of deviousness was served up by not telling me that our tiny apartment for two, in Plagne Villages, was overlooked by the small window of the Pizza Takeaway next door. I was happily wafting about the room, with little or no clothes on, totally oblivious of my audience....who were eagerly gathered round the tiny window, for their nightly entertainment! When I finally spotted them, huddled by the window, pointing and laughing in my direction, I said (with some embarrassment and consternation), "Did you know that the staff of that Pizza place can see straight in our window?"

"Of course", came the reply. "I was just wondering how long it would take you to notice and how long I could keep a straight face!"

As has been proved over the passing 30 years, Lady F's will to succeed has been down to a very stubborn and tenacious character....which is just as well, as without this, she'd have binned me years ago for being an anachronistic old curmudgeon and general all-round bollox!

Happy Days....and thank you for taking the time to read through my nostalgic and somewhat sentimental meanderings.

Old Fartbag thanks for these stories, very well written and most entertaining.

As your first story on the original thread was located at Santons in Val D'Isere, may I just add that if anyone witnessed a high-speed double flick-flack in the off piste slightly to the left of the bottom of Santons on Tuesday late afternoon last week, that was me. Apparently there is a 3ft drop running across the piste.

Thanks to those who helped tidy up the yard sale. I am black and blue but slowly recovering!!

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