I am currently swinging like an almighty pendulum between chipperness and despair at an alarming rate. I won't drawl on about it too much on here, for fear of alienating my readers, who, in the main, live in the UK permanently, and therefore have enough of their own bullshit to worry about 24/7. But seriously. This pissy, dribbly, misty, muggy, shitty, rainy weather is really getting me down. Particularly irksome to hear it described as 'cold', having been where I've been for the last couple of months. Minus twenty is cold. This is not cold. This is just shit.
Yes I have lived in the UK for 26 years and it still surprises me how repugnant the weather is. Why do we all stay here? Why do other people come? Everybody, let's get the fuck out! Pronto. As soon as this gammy genou is healed I'm off again.
In light of the above and to keep things buoyant I have been musing over the Many Things to Love back in le Ski Resort. So far I have:
Obviously. It doesn't matter how many mirrors I had to polish, how many turds I found floating gracefully in the loo, or how desperately, hideously hung over I was (which, thanks to the clear mountain air, wasn't actually that often) - walking up that mother of a hill to work at 7.30am every morning, all I had to do was turn around and look at this:
....and suddenly, funnily enough, it didn't seem so bad. In fact nothing could possibly piss me off whatsoever. Particularly when taken in contrast to the view I used to have every morning at 7.30am this time four months ago:
Mountain Spring Water
Yes shoppers. Straight from the tap. Ice cold. Delicious, sweet, clear and pure. No chlorine, or fluoride added by the 'wizards'. I could never understand it when clients requested Evian. You are up a mountain you crapweasle. That's where Evian comes from, supposedly. Get yer chops round the kitchen tap. Or alternatively there's a jug over there.
Everyone knowing you and knowing everyone is posh
Seasonaires are posh kids. If it all goes tits up call Mummy for more moneys. Skater Boy himself actually said this to me once. Even though he looks like a pikey Jesus, the accent gives it away dahling. You are after all in one of the most expensive villages on earth.... approximately. And because it's so tiny, you soon get to know everyone. Which means that on average I'd bump into five friends just walking from my apartment to the coffee shop. So you can just bum about on your own in 100% knowledge that you will bump into a mate, on piste or off. Which is nice.
Hot Chocolate with Baileys
Try it. Trust me. Orgasmic.
Beer drunk straight from the jug
Glasses? Where we're going they don't need glasses!
Hmmm.... just cheese actually. Fuck loads of cheese. Mmmmm.
The Hidden Valley
A beautiful, vaguely mystical and rather dangerous off-piste trail that's a wee bit difficult to find, a cunt to ski and not for the faint hearted. I did it in my first two weeks, scared the crap out of myself and was going to be heading back there with my crash helmet the day after I ballsed up by knee. There's always next year.
Walking up hills, sliding down them
.....don't think I didn't hear the wheeze of a thousand sharp intakes of breath, you cynical dears. Yes, I do in fact like exercise. Particularly, actually, when it involves bouncing up and down on top of a chap, but that's irrelevant for this point. When I had the Dreaded Desk Job I had more aches and pains than Dot Cotton. I'm talking knots in my shoulders, sciatica, the lot. Since the ski resort job - I'm as lithe, ache-free and flexible as an eel. And the reason? The human body is not meant to sit still. You're designed to be carrying logs around, traipsing up hills with bags of food, chasing gnus across the dusky plains, building igloos. That kind of shit. Not tap tap tapping away on a plastic keyboard and staring at a screen, gradually, oh so softly losing the will to live.
An old colleague of mine who still works in the same place as I did put on her facebook update today........... 'Lunch! :D '
Well that says it all, doesn't it. The highlight of her day. Fucking lunch.
With the aid of these hills, I'm also pleased to report you can (or at least I did) lose a stone in weight on a diet of bread, cheese, ham, hot chocolate (WITH whipped cream), pain au chocolat and beer. Now if that's not a result I don't know what is.
Now, a friend of mine recently revealed to me that he was: 'Trying to manoeuvre into some sort of job / business where I don't have to go to the same office every day.'
Ok. When is everyone on earth going to wake up and realise they are all driving at the same purpose? Not having to go into an office and sit at a desk. Because it's inhumane. Why don't we all just go and live on a beach somewhere and farm stuff, sunbathe and make babies and cheese? No more desks ever! Come on!
Well, until that happens I am going to try to keep me pecker up by reading a book by the Dalai Lama and a bloke called Howard C. Cutler called 'The Art of Happiness' - Hopefully by the end of the month I'll be sitting in the middle of the road in an orange cape with a bald head going oooommmmmm and feeling quite chipper.