You don't need cloaks to become invisible

Not like Harry Potter.

All you need to do is go up to the top of Bruson when there is zero visibility. Seriously, you could hardly see your hands in front of your face. You couldn't even determine which was up and which was down.

You could, however, see the positive side, if you chose to...

So...although nothing was visible apart from murk, it wasn't icy, there weren't moguls and it wasn't life-threateningly steep. And even if all these things applied you couldn't see them anyway! The only thing you could do was trust yourself and go for it.

Bit like life, see,

Oh, we had such an exciting time during our coffee break, sitting at a table with a lone Swede, who showed us photos on his phone...at first, beautiful scenery, but then...model trains... Being British, we were terribly polite.

Not so polite when we discovered one of the ski runs was called Pissevache...as in cow wee.

Our other thrill was the formation of what came to be known as snoticles. The drips from Geoffrey's nose actually froze. (It was bitterly cold) One was at least an inch long.

For some reason, he wouldn't allow us to photograph him...and anyway, he was almost invisible.

"The grand bloody panjandrum of the painfully bleeding obvious"

A quote from Charlie Fletcher's book, Silvertongue.

And my little pet name for Peter today.

SO...another epic day. The run (RUN?) we went down was described as two things "the most beautiful itinerary in Verbier" and "a long and pleasant challenge through the trees."

HMMMMMMMMMM!

Maybe, yes, if it hadn't been a) icy b) steep c) mostly moguls d) very poor visibility. Quadruple whammy.

It was another KILLER but one of those I was proud to get down. Rather like the slogan on my marathon shirt...there will be days when you think you could never run a marathon and a lifetime of knowing you have.

And as for the grand bloody panjandrum of the painfully bleeding obvious...after one of my more spectacular falls, when I ended up yet again with skis pointing horizontally in opposite directions, Peter helpfully shouted up to me, "You need to get both your skis pointing the same way."

REALLY, Peter? I hadn't thought of that.

Don't be the girl who fell. Be the girl who got up.

Thanks, Jenette Stanley...I was yesterday.

That's not to say I didn't have a sense of humour bypass for about twenty minutes.

High up in the mountains, on our way back down after a long day's skiing, the snow began to fall. Visibility zilch.

A speeding skiing lady (kind word to describe her...she was no lady!) carved over my skis from behind. Survived that but when I was looking to see who this mutter mutter mutter person was I fell over! That'll teach me...

Then, because I'd lost my nerve, I fell over four more times in very quick succession. Kerthump, kerthump. Including one fall where I couldn't see the edge of a track and went over the side, ending up in a crumpled heap about thirty metres below. Could have been so much worse...

I could have taken the bubble back down to the town. A lot of me wanted to. I think the rest of the group would have been quite relieved if I had.

I carried on skiing. I'm so glad I did.

I was the girl who got up.

Here is my idea for the next James Bond movie:

Ski Fall

Some people like my advice so much...

that they frame it upon the wall instead of using it.

I expect this is what Peter thinks after he's tried to coach me to improve my skiing. (I ski like a moribund goblin...courageous though!)

It's just that a) He's my husband and what wife takes too kindly to an overdose of instructions from her man? b) I don't understand half of what he says!

Here are some examples of the sorts of things Peter shouts to me as I'm weaving and wobbling my way down the slope with varying degrees of control:

"Change your centre of gravity to the downhill ski, chest facing the fore line!" Oh yeah, of course...

"Plant your pole on that mogul then unweight your skis." Absolutely. Immediately.

But then, on another skiing holiday, my friend Lucy said "Imagine you've got a tube of chocolate sauce under your big toe and you need to squeeze some onto a profiterole." Now that made ABSOLUTE SENSE to me!

Anyway, today we had a very civilised and much less demanding day. And I can't think of anything silly I did at all. Boring.

I can think of silly things other people did though. One example. We were all climbing (slowly and painfully) down a long flight of steps from a ski lift to the slopes. Six abreast. Like cattle. Half way down, a teenage girl stopped and began to text.

I thought a taser might be useful for these situations.

Fear doesn't shut you down, it wakes you up

Veronica Roth. Hasn't been skiing down Mont Gele, Verbier, then.

Maybe, maybe, she is HALF right though...another person!

Seriously treacherous black run today, due to navigational error - and yes, I KNOW I'm prone to exaggerate but this time I'm not.

At the time, in survival mode, remarkably calm even when stuck on a terrifyingly steep slope with one ski pointing one way horizontally across the slope and the other in the opposite direction I was very much awake.

Further down, on desperate moguls, fear DID shut my brain down. It made my brain believe that I couldn't POSSIBLY turn, ever again. NEVER.

But I made it. Didn't cry. Kept smiling. Mostly.

Now, the silly things I did today.

First, when queuing for ski lifts, on a number of occasions I was convinced some impatient oik behind me had his skis on top of mine. Why else was I unable to move forward? I turned round to glare in my best withering way, only to discover my skis were crossed at the back.

Second, my mobile phone went when I was on the bus back from the slopes. I answered it. I couldn't hear what David was saying at all. I still had my ski helmet on.

To travel hopefully is better than to arrive

Hmmm, I was going to say Robert Louis Stevenson was wrong as well as that fellow Richard Proenekke, but in fairness, he is HALF right...travelling hopefully is wonderful but arriving is good too.

With this unformattable blog - I think due to some grudge match between Apple and Blogger - I can only manage one picture, so the holiday images will be on my Facebook page. Just in case you are REMOTELY interested.

SO some anecdotes from today...

Me on the plane. Ordered tomato juice with ice and lemon and it came with a neat little straw. Which wasn't very effective. And then I realised it was a stirrer... In my defence, I had got up at 4.30 in the morning.

And when I was posting about still smiling and NOT through gritted teeth, even though our plane was delayed for two hours once we'd boarded - predictive text made it say grouted teeth. A whole new opportunity for an enterprising dentist?

Just now, our Skiworld rep proudly informed us that Verbier has a 25 centimetre swimming pool. Must go there then! Might manage a whole length.

And finally, at the airport, I was determined to buy a Jo Nesbo book because I heard she was such a great author. Attractive, isn't she?

“The secret of flight is this -- you have to do it immediately, before your body realizes it is defying the laws.”

...Michael Cunningham, A Home at the End of the World

Me, today:

Though rather hoping the plane may be a bit more adequate - but you never can tell with low cost charter flights.

Off to Switzerland.

Will ski.

Just like that (Not!)


Be prepared for wretched iPad blogging for the next week.WHY WHY WHY won't it format properly?

Or maybe there's a computer in the chalet?