I am taking a break from grappling with the finer points of advanced motorcycling to try something completely different – snowboarding. Ski-ing reminds me too much of the uptight girls at school and the intimidating posh students that I spent four years trying to dodge, plus boarders get baggier trousers and stompier boots, so it was a no-brainer. Friday night saw me at St Pancras to catch the Eurostar to Paris Gare du Nord, to pick up the overnight Snow Train to Meribel. (Friday afternoon saw me in an advancing state of panic in my flat trying to find my passport, which I had put in a safe place….) The Snow Train is a long row of couchettes broken only by the on-board facilities – a buffet or restaurant would be far too sensible, what a train-load of alpine sports enthusiasts really needs (apparently) is a beer bar and a disco carriage. Shame it was playing French euro-techno, a few rounds of Boney M would have been much more fun.
Home for the week is the Chalet du Guide, where lots of glamourous men have come and tended to my needs, from boots to boards, ski passes and lessons. I recommend this to anyone in need of pampering. We have lovely blue skies but apparantly this is a Bad Thing, what we actually want is more snow.
After a first attempt yesterday under the watchful care of Jim and Andy, I ache in unusual places but haven’t broken anything yet..