- 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
The holiday is over
14 October 2010
The ski season proper arrived in a DHL van today. I wasn't sure if the long box would fit upright in the hall and I couldn't move the small one at all. Thanks to the Rossignol Rider sponsorship arrangement Sam is now the proud owner of six new pairs of skis. His slalom skis are 165 cm (10 cm longer than I ski on); the downhill ones are 210 cm - I can't see them travelling on the route of the car, thought I suppose we could tie a little red flag on the end.
Two years ago I had the priviledge of travelling to the Coq D'or with Stephane Dubich, one the coaches from the French Club Des Sport. Stephane was, I believe, at one time a member of the French junior team. Part of our conversation came back to me when that box arrived today. We are talking in French and mine is not the best but Stephane's meaning was clear:
'When you ski as a child it's a game; after that it becomes a job'. Sam is no longer a child in ski racing terms, but a FIS (Federation of International Ski racer) competing and ranked against the best in the world. It's a bit scary and as job's go the satisfaction might be high but the renumeration is pretty ropey.
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Sam is not ski-ing in October as part of his ski focussed life has involved bringing forward a number of his GCSEs so he is cramming. Honi is leaving tomorrow and amid the talk and admiration of Sam's new kit I remembered that Honi's needed preparing.
Ski prep has never been one of the Clissold strengths. For the first couple of years I took them into a shop and when asked what edge I wanted on them said one that would make them go fast. It seemed to work, but after they entered the Children's team we were shamed into buying some kit. I failed the first time and bought what was apparently a snowboard prep pack. And at the English races last year Sam Honi and Tim were in the basement/ carpark balancing their skis on two rickety old chairs when a competitor drove up in an Audi and opened the boot to reveal a portable bench and full prep box in matching carry cases. Despite the fact that Sam performed brilliantly at those races which I thought vindicated my lack of attention to ski prep, I was bullied into making a trip to the Vola shop soon after and now we have a garage that any ski technician would be proud of.
So at 9.30 this evening Sam kindly agreed to prep Honi's skis for Saas Fee. Why you might ask had she not done them herself? Well she's been a bit busy recently. Not that she's ever not busy but there have been a couple of extras in the last week. On Friday she had a riding sesson in Bedale which was four hour round trip. Saturday was over to Rossendale (2 plus hours each way) for the EsSKIa final and Sunday was a hunter trial. On Monday the school ski club had a snow session at Castleford so we drove down after dance, getting home at 11 p.m. Tuesday is usually trampolining and gymnastics but she was asked to represent the school at the area cross country in Easingwold which was an hour in the wrong direction, so her long suffering father drove over to pick her up from that so she could do all three. Wednesday was another riding lesson; today was swimming and ballet.
And over and above that she had a major piece of English homework as she remembered on Tuesday morning. Not that she had forgotten; she had laboured over it on Sunday evening (fortunately gymnastics was cancelled) and all that was left was to type it up. Quite 'do able' in a morning if I had not been in a rush to get Millie to the back man for 9 a.m, and she had not had a friend staying whose mother had just got married and, they had not both been up late the night before. After standing over her one fingered efforts for an eternity (at least five minutes) I suggested I might help (not correcting any mistakes of course) and that she should get her kit ready.
So I am typing madly when: 'Mum........'. 'What now?' 'Lucky's had one of my trainers'. Now even super mums can't type and look for trainers at the same time so we swop jobs. I'm not good at many things but finding missing items of clothing is my speciality (mainly because no one ever puts anything away so I just think back to where it was just dropped), but on this occasion I was thwarted. Fobbing her off with a pair that don't fit very well I look at the clock and reckon we just have time to print of the piece, catch Millie, put her in the box and get the girls (now three in the house) to school in time if they all squash in the cab. EXCEPT the printer won't turn on.
Tim fortunately enters this story like a bleary eyed fairy godfather and takes the piece on a memory stick to his office promising to drop off the girls and take the homework into school later.
Millie is given the all clear by the back man and I manage to fix the printer by changing the fuse which I am quite proud of because I have called a repair man out for less before. But I search all day and do not find the missing trainer. The only other strange thing that happens that day is that I receive a text from Honi thanking me for all my help.
I ask her, when she gets home just before ten, how she managed in the trainers that didn't fit. She looks sheepish. 'Oh I found my good ones.... Er, there were both in the bag, I must have put one in, then found the other one and thought it was the first one, so then I was looking for the second one when I had already found it.....'
Think I had better go check the ski kit she has just packed....
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20 October 2010
Got a phone call last night from a very little voice to say that the weather was so bad in Saas Fee that the lift could not run to get the skiers back up to down cable car so they were transported up on on piste bashers. Apparently the big bad mannered freestylers pushed to the front of the queue so that the diminutive British ski racers were the last up and the wait was freezing. I was sitting in a warm Italian restaurant at the time and could not decided if the experience had been thrilling or terrifying.
The ski season proper arrived in a DHL van today. I wasn't sure if the long box would fit upright in the hall and I couldn't move the small one at all. Thanks to the Rossignol Rider sponsorship arrangement Sam is now the proud owner of six new pairs of skis. His slalom skis are 165 cm (10 cm longer than I ski on); the downhill ones are 210 cm - I can't see them travelling on the route of the car, thought I suppose we could tie a little red flag on the end.
Two years ago I had the priviledge of travelling to the Coq D'or with Stephane Dubich, one the coaches from the French Club Des Sport. Stephane was, I believe, at one time a member of the French junior team. Part of our conversation came back to me when that box arrived today. We are talking in French and mine is not the best but Stephane's meaning was clear:
'When you ski as a child it's a game; after that it becomes a job'. Sam is no longer a child in ski racing terms, but a FIS (Federation of International Ski racer) competing and ranked against the best in the world. It's a bit scary and as job's go the satisfaction might be high but the renumeration is pretty ropey.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sam is not ski-ing in October as part of his ski focussed life has involved bringing forward a number of his GCSEs so he is cramming. Honi is leaving tomorrow and amid the talk and admiration of Sam's new kit I remembered that Honi's needed preparing.
Ski prep has never been one of the Clissold strengths. For the first couple of years I took them into a shop and when asked what edge I wanted on them said one that would make them go fast. It seemed to work, but after they entered the Children's team we were shamed into buying some kit. I failed the first time and bought what was apparently a snowboard prep pack. And at the English races last year Sam Honi and Tim were in the basement/ carpark balancing their skis on two rickety old chairs when a competitor drove up in an Audi and opened the boot to reveal a portable bench and full prep box in matching carry cases. Despite the fact that Sam performed brilliantly at those races which I thought vindicated my lack of attention to ski prep, I was bullied into making a trip to the Vola shop soon after and now we have a garage that any ski technician would be proud of.
So at 9.30 this evening Sam kindly agreed to prep Honi's skis for Saas Fee. Why you might ask had she not done them herself? Well she's been a bit busy recently. Not that she's ever not busy but there have been a couple of extras in the last week. On Friday she had a riding sesson in Bedale which was four hour round trip. Saturday was over to Rossendale (2 plus hours each way) for the EsSKIa final and Sunday was a hunter trial. On Monday the school ski club had a snow session at Castleford so we drove down after dance, getting home at 11 p.m. Tuesday is usually trampolining and gymnastics but she was asked to represent the school at the area cross country in Easingwold which was an hour in the wrong direction, so her long suffering father drove over to pick her up from that so she could do all three. Wednesday was another riding lesson; today was swimming and ballet.
And over and above that she had a major piece of English homework as she remembered on Tuesday morning. Not that she had forgotten; she had laboured over it on Sunday evening (fortunately gymnastics was cancelled) and all that was left was to type it up. Quite 'do able' in a morning if I had not been in a rush to get Millie to the back man for 9 a.m, and she had not had a friend staying whose mother had just got married and, they had not both been up late the night before. After standing over her one fingered efforts for an eternity (at least five minutes) I suggested I might help (not correcting any mistakes of course) and that she should get her kit ready.
So I am typing madly when: 'Mum........'. 'What now?' 'Lucky's had one of my trainers'. Now even super mums can't type and look for trainers at the same time so we swop jobs. I'm not good at many things but finding missing items of clothing is my speciality (mainly because no one ever puts anything away so I just think back to where it was just dropped), but on this occasion I was thwarted. Fobbing her off with a pair that don't fit very well I look at the clock and reckon we just have time to print of the piece, catch Millie, put her in the box and get the girls (now three in the house) to school in time if they all squash in the cab. EXCEPT the printer won't turn on.
Tim fortunately enters this story like a bleary eyed fairy godfather and takes the piece on a memory stick to his office promising to drop off the girls and take the homework into school later.
Millie is given the all clear by the back man and I manage to fix the printer by changing the fuse which I am quite proud of because I have called a repair man out for less before. But I search all day and do not find the missing trainer. The only other strange thing that happens that day is that I receive a text from Honi thanking me for all my help.
I ask her, when she gets home just before ten, how she managed in the trainers that didn't fit. She looks sheepish. 'Oh I found my good ones.... Er, there were both in the bag, I must have put one in, then found the other one and thought it was the first one, so then I was looking for the second one when I had already found it.....'
Think I had better go check the ski kit she has just packed....
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20 October 2010
Got a phone call last night from a very little voice to say that the weather was so bad in Saas Fee that the lift could not run to get the skiers back up to down cable car so they were transported up on on piste bashers. Apparently the big bad mannered freestylers pushed to the front of the queue so that the diminutive British ski racers were the last up and the wait was freezing. I was sitting in a warm Italian restaurant at the time and could not decided if the experience had been thrilling or terrifying.