- Untitled
- The season begins
- Jan 2010
- Feb 2010
- March 2010
- April 2010
- May 2010
- Ski Pictures 2010
- June 2010
- July 2010
- August 2010
- September 2010
- October 2010
- Late October
- November
- December 2010
- January 2011
- February
- The European Youth Olympic Festival
- March 2011
- The season ends
- May and June 2011
- End of June
- July
- August in Yorkshire
- September 2011
- 28 October 2011
- November/December 2011
- Season 2012
- February 2012
- March and April
- June
- 'Summer' 2012
December 2010
The Big Freeze
There’s a lot to be said for being snowed in. It was quite a relief at first; getting off my life for a bit.
A week later, when we actually needed to get somewhere, we began to wish the snow back where it belongs: in the Alps complete with snow ploughs and cable cars. Tim and I were wondering whether to cancel the hire car which he was planning to drive to Heathrow on Friday so Sam could take his flight to Colorado and he could hop to China as he likes to do, when Avis took the decision out of our hands. Thinking on my feet I booked them cross country to Reading so that they didn’t have to do the ski bag (five pairs this time) thing across London. I thought they might have been a bit more grateful when I braved the blizzards and traffic warnings to get them to Darlington. Okay they had a three hour delay but they were met by the lovely Debbie and wined and dined in her nice warm house while I returned to deal with the domestics.
I had thought it was the cat at first. That ‘pluck pluck’ noise that at best means claw damage to the arm chair, and at worst a big mess on the carpet. Fearing the cat flap might be frozen or Scarlet simply too soft to face the Big Freeze I leapt out of bed, tripped over an indignant Xiong but drew a blank on any feline friends. Back in bed I realised that my feet were decidedly damp. Not another leaking hot water bottle? And the plucking had not stopped, it was quite constant, a bit like a dripping tap, in fact a lot like a dripping....
‘Tim........!’ There are very few things that it’s ‘okay’ to wake my husband for. A sick child is one, and water gushing through the bed room light socket is probably the only other. I snuggled in the dry bit of the bed and listened to dripping interspersed with Tim’s clumping and bumping until summoned to supply towels and buckets. That was Thursday morning. I remained in denial until Tim’s parting words: ‘Don’t forget to get Honi to deal with those buckets.’
Our bedroom has a gulley roof which is perfectly functional until it fills up with two feet of snow which has nowhere to go when it melts. I won’t elaborate in case we need to sell it (the house) to pay the ski bills and anyway we will get it fixed in the Spring. Until then we have to do a daily run:
Get up into roof space, crawl around in fibre glass with bucket to pass under the gully then pass same bucket, full of icy water from the large drip catching bucket, back down the person standing on ladder under the trap door (which happens to be in my wardrobe). Repeat until large bucket empty. Hazards include fibre glass damage to skin and dropping bucket on head of person under the trap door. Best results achieved with a chain of three people: two in roof and one under trapdoor. Protective clothing and masks recommended.
And then there is the leak in the kitchen roof ....
Under the circumstances I was quite pleased with the prospect of a 36 hour round trip to Piesendorf to take Honi to speed camp. When I volunteered that we should take her out a day late so that she could do her gym competition I didn’t have the ‘Royal we’ in mind; I was pretty sure that Tim could find a meeting in Munich and anyway he loves the challenge of an arduous journey – did he not just battle to Newcastle in the face of serious traffic wardens to get Sam’s skis (bindings eventually sort thanks to new set of bolts)? But China took priority so I was left with the Edinburgh, Munich, Piesendorf, Munich, Stanstead (no direct flights back), Edinburgh, Richmond run. But then I got twitchy about access to Edinburgh which seemed even worse hit by the weather than us. So at the last minute I changed it to Manchester, Munich, Piesendorf, Munich, Manchester, Richmond. Ostensibly a better itinerary but involving two night flights so all driving done in the dark. Anyway for once I made the right decision because Edinburgh Airport was closed on Monday so had I not changed our booking we would not have been able to make the trip at all (tempting, but not in the spirit of things)
When I knew it had fallen to me, the thought of this journey, especially the Munich Piesendorf lap, loomed large in my mind for days. I even bought a satnav, which Honi promptly programmed in German so we had to go to the garage to be shamed by the mechanic who managed to fix it, not because of any technical expertise, but because he remembered his school German lessons - well done Richmond School. In the event the trip was no worse or better than any three hour drive late at night, in stinking weather, in a strange car, on the wrong side of the road, on unfamiliar roads, would be. The low point was probably when we arrived at two in the morning and unloaded to find that we were at the annex rather than the hotel, so loaded up and drove to the next building, unloaded again, entered and got key only to find that we were sleeping in the annex, so had to load up and unload again. Oh and there was no bedding on my bed so I slept in my clothes with a towel round me.
I might have had half a day to see the sights of Munich had Honi not forgotten to pack her back protector. Instead I combed the streets of Piesendorf for a sports shop to no avail (only cake shops) so eventually went to Zell Um Zee, which took up most of the morning. As I was driving back Christian phoned to say that he needed some ski trousers (great timing) for the college trip because his were in Flaine. I tried to stop in Kitzbuhel but couldn’t find anywhere to park and before I knew it I was on the motorway and into Germany. I had time to spare (another night flight) and was feeling a bit bad because he came home from Oxford on the bus because no parents available. So I took an exit signposting lots of towns with ‘Bad’ in their name because I thought it had something to do with water and the route might be scenic which it was, and that somewhere in this rural and snow covered landscape someone would be selling salopettes, which they definitely were not. Half an hour later I was back on the motorway, having passed through four towns without witnessing any sign of commercial activity apart from four cake shops. Not an Aldi or Lidl in sight. I am still wondering where Germans get their retail therapy.
Four days on I'm Edinburgh, having completed another three (four actually) drive in the dark in stinking weather, waiting to meet her; we'll be home around midnight - if it doesn't snow.
Xmas in the Alps
Tales of dreadful journeys and lost luggage are getting a bit old hat so I won’t bother to explain how we got six family members an aunt and uncle and three cousins, and Honi’s friend Issy, to Flaine from four different continents with Heathrow mainly shut and Europe plagued by snow storms. But we were all assembled by Christmas Eve. I’ll only mention Sam’s missing (four) ski bag because I was so impressed with his ingenuity and dedication. He carried his boots, helmet and goggles in his hand luggage to ensure that, even if his race skis did get lost, he could get out on Christmas day on his old skis. The morning was slightly marred by the absence of the locker key which nearly scuppered his plan. I was sure I had seen one of the girls (mentioning no names) put it in her pocket but she was adamant it was not there.
As the last arrival had been around 10 p.m the night before and I had drunk rather a lot of Champagne while waiting for the late comers, then been left with the washing up because they were all exhausted, a missing key wasn’t the best start to Christmas day. I was torn between trying to serve breakfast to 13 people and do the empty out all pockets and search under the sofa routine. Not wanting to be a doubting Thomas I searched all other garments before finding it where I said it was (but the owner said it wasn’t) in the first place. Sam, Max and Christian made their ‘ski with the lads’ 9 a.m deadline which only left 10 for breakfast. I’d like to say the day got better after that but actually there was just more of the same
The Big Freeze
There’s a lot to be said for being snowed in. It was quite a relief at first; getting off my life for a bit.
A week later, when we actually needed to get somewhere, we began to wish the snow back where it belongs: in the Alps complete with snow ploughs and cable cars. Tim and I were wondering whether to cancel the hire car which he was planning to drive to Heathrow on Friday so Sam could take his flight to Colorado and he could hop to China as he likes to do, when Avis took the decision out of our hands. Thinking on my feet I booked them cross country to Reading so that they didn’t have to do the ski bag (five pairs this time) thing across London. I thought they might have been a bit more grateful when I braved the blizzards and traffic warnings to get them to Darlington. Okay they had a three hour delay but they were met by the lovely Debbie and wined and dined in her nice warm house while I returned to deal with the domestics.
I had thought it was the cat at first. That ‘pluck pluck’ noise that at best means claw damage to the arm chair, and at worst a big mess on the carpet. Fearing the cat flap might be frozen or Scarlet simply too soft to face the Big Freeze I leapt out of bed, tripped over an indignant Xiong but drew a blank on any feline friends. Back in bed I realised that my feet were decidedly damp. Not another leaking hot water bottle? And the plucking had not stopped, it was quite constant, a bit like a dripping tap, in fact a lot like a dripping....
‘Tim........!’ There are very few things that it’s ‘okay’ to wake my husband for. A sick child is one, and water gushing through the bed room light socket is probably the only other. I snuggled in the dry bit of the bed and listened to dripping interspersed with Tim’s clumping and bumping until summoned to supply towels and buckets. That was Thursday morning. I remained in denial until Tim’s parting words: ‘Don’t forget to get Honi to deal with those buckets.’
Our bedroom has a gulley roof which is perfectly functional until it fills up with two feet of snow which has nowhere to go when it melts. I won’t elaborate in case we need to sell it (the house) to pay the ski bills and anyway we will get it fixed in the Spring. Until then we have to do a daily run:
Get up into roof space, crawl around in fibre glass with bucket to pass under the gully then pass same bucket, full of icy water from the large drip catching bucket, back down the person standing on ladder under the trap door (which happens to be in my wardrobe). Repeat until large bucket empty. Hazards include fibre glass damage to skin and dropping bucket on head of person under the trap door. Best results achieved with a chain of three people: two in roof and one under trapdoor. Protective clothing and masks recommended.
And then there is the leak in the kitchen roof ....
Under the circumstances I was quite pleased with the prospect of a 36 hour round trip to Piesendorf to take Honi to speed camp. When I volunteered that we should take her out a day late so that she could do her gym competition I didn’t have the ‘Royal we’ in mind; I was pretty sure that Tim could find a meeting in Munich and anyway he loves the challenge of an arduous journey – did he not just battle to Newcastle in the face of serious traffic wardens to get Sam’s skis (bindings eventually sort thanks to new set of bolts)? But China took priority so I was left with the Edinburgh, Munich, Piesendorf, Munich, Stanstead (no direct flights back), Edinburgh, Richmond run. But then I got twitchy about access to Edinburgh which seemed even worse hit by the weather than us. So at the last minute I changed it to Manchester, Munich, Piesendorf, Munich, Manchester, Richmond. Ostensibly a better itinerary but involving two night flights so all driving done in the dark. Anyway for once I made the right decision because Edinburgh Airport was closed on Monday so had I not changed our booking we would not have been able to make the trip at all (tempting, but not in the spirit of things)
When I knew it had fallen to me, the thought of this journey, especially the Munich Piesendorf lap, loomed large in my mind for days. I even bought a satnav, which Honi promptly programmed in German so we had to go to the garage to be shamed by the mechanic who managed to fix it, not because of any technical expertise, but because he remembered his school German lessons - well done Richmond School. In the event the trip was no worse or better than any three hour drive late at night, in stinking weather, in a strange car, on the wrong side of the road, on unfamiliar roads, would be. The low point was probably when we arrived at two in the morning and unloaded to find that we were at the annex rather than the hotel, so loaded up and drove to the next building, unloaded again, entered and got key only to find that we were sleeping in the annex, so had to load up and unload again. Oh and there was no bedding on my bed so I slept in my clothes with a towel round me.
I might have had half a day to see the sights of Munich had Honi not forgotten to pack her back protector. Instead I combed the streets of Piesendorf for a sports shop to no avail (only cake shops) so eventually went to Zell Um Zee, which took up most of the morning. As I was driving back Christian phoned to say that he needed some ski trousers (great timing) for the college trip because his were in Flaine. I tried to stop in Kitzbuhel but couldn’t find anywhere to park and before I knew it I was on the motorway and into Germany. I had time to spare (another night flight) and was feeling a bit bad because he came home from Oxford on the bus because no parents available. So I took an exit signposting lots of towns with ‘Bad’ in their name because I thought it had something to do with water and the route might be scenic which it was, and that somewhere in this rural and snow covered landscape someone would be selling salopettes, which they definitely were not. Half an hour later I was back on the motorway, having passed through four towns without witnessing any sign of commercial activity apart from four cake shops. Not an Aldi or Lidl in sight. I am still wondering where Germans get their retail therapy.
Four days on I'm Edinburgh, having completed another three (four actually) drive in the dark in stinking weather, waiting to meet her; we'll be home around midnight - if it doesn't snow.
Xmas in the Alps
Tales of dreadful journeys and lost luggage are getting a bit old hat so I won’t bother to explain how we got six family members an aunt and uncle and three cousins, and Honi’s friend Issy, to Flaine from four different continents with Heathrow mainly shut and Europe plagued by snow storms. But we were all assembled by Christmas Eve. I’ll only mention Sam’s missing (four) ski bag because I was so impressed with his ingenuity and dedication. He carried his boots, helmet and goggles in his hand luggage to ensure that, even if his race skis did get lost, he could get out on Christmas day on his old skis. The morning was slightly marred by the absence of the locker key which nearly scuppered his plan. I was sure I had seen one of the girls (mentioning no names) put it in her pocket but she was adamant it was not there.
As the last arrival had been around 10 p.m the night before and I had drunk rather a lot of Champagne while waiting for the late comers, then been left with the washing up because they were all exhausted, a missing key wasn’t the best start to Christmas day. I was torn between trying to serve breakfast to 13 people and do the empty out all pockets and search under the sofa routine. Not wanting to be a doubting Thomas I searched all other garments before finding it where I said it was (but the owner said it wasn’t) in the first place. Sam, Max and Christian made their ‘ski with the lads’ 9 a.m deadline which only left 10 for breakfast. I’d like to say the day got better after that but actually there was just more of the same