Skiiiing; a.k.a. A Week in 1984

Going to Alpe d'Huez with 7 lads was an experience even if I discount the skiing...but we'll start with that.

I'd never been skiing before, and hadn't realised one thing (which now seems painfully obvious); the only hard part is slowing down. Sure, there's a bit of technical skill in shifting your weight gracefully during a turn, or getting some good height on a jump; but the majority of my time was spent trying not to go too fast, and learning how not to die when that wasn't possible.

My development was therefore aided greatly by my willingness to fall down a lot, and my decision to treat fear as excitement ("it's all the same hormones anyway", noted a psychology researcher I met out there). Unfortunately this resulted in what I can now confirm is a cracked rib and a collection of interesting bruises. The goggle-mark sunburn and chapped lips I have no such excuses for - that was just idiocy on my part.

Skiing then, was fantastic - and I'm definitely going again, but when I do, I'll have all the proper gear. However, by gear, I don't mean a beautiful pair of skis or well-moulded ski boots. I mean clothes that were at the height of their appeal in 1984.

Because, being on a ski resort really is like living in the 80's. The only songs that were playing (at all hours of the day) from post-1987 were ones that would still probably have hit the charts if that was when they were released. 80's sunglasses and headbands were in abundance and everyone on the slopes looked on in envy when someone in neon-green salopettes (with spiked hair of a perfectly matched colour) walked by. We even had little CB radios with our own call signs (and the obvious, endless Top Gun quotes).

Now, to spend the rest of the weekend doing absolutely nothing ^^
Xx