No food in the house

Hello. Just back from holiday in La Plagne, France. Now starting the mother of all laundry days.

I won't bore you with the details, but I will say that we had sun and snow in the right quantities and the only injuries I received were a bruised leg (from running over a small child) and two bruised elbows (a consequence of sleeping in an eighteen-inch wide bunk bed). It was the safest ever snowboarding trip I've been on because I shared a chalet with eight doctors and an optician (who mended my glasses when I sat on them). I've stuck some photos up behind the link on the right.

On the last day we managed to get the absolute final last cable car up the mountain - we had to commando roll under the barrier and they slammed the doors shut when we go off at the top. The result of this determination to savour every last second of the last day was that we were chased down the mountain by very excited search-and-rescue dogs, who sweep the mountain at the end of every day for bodies. There is nothing like a large Alsatian snapping at your heels to improve your snowboarding skills. In fact, my subsequent idea for fast-track snowboard lessons is to give novices a snowboard, place them on top of a black-run and unleash dogs on them.

PS the socks were great, although I had to use bits of trimmed down mouse-mat to stop the boots rubbing.

That was a close one

Phew! Almost got stuck. I keep hearing people tell the true story about the mountaineer who was climbing in a canyon and a rock fell on his arm. After a long wait for help he decided no one was coming and chopped his own arm off. Well, the switch to turn off my hot water (needed because I'm going away) is in the boiler cupboard. Only the kitchen door also happens to be in the boiler cupboard (it was removed to allow me unfettered access to the fridge). To reach the switch you have to slide your hand in towards the top of the door and bring it down until you can feel the switch. Anyway, there was a bit of a panicky moment when the door moved and I thought I was going to get my hand trapped and I was going to have to cut it off after a long and ultimately fruitless wait for help. But it was okay.

Hoover Bag

Guys, I've just changed the bag in the vacuum. You should try it, it's outstanding - just like getting a new hoover!

Unfortunately I had to get the hoover out because my mouse has nibbled through the special holiday supply of chocolate I had put in the packing pile in the middle of the floor. I hadn't seen him in a few months, but I caught a glimpse of him on sunday evening heading out from behind the fridge into the living room. "Ha," I thought, "no food in there for you." Ooops.

Here's a dramatic reconstruction. Notice the mouse is sitting underneath the ultrasonic mouse repelling gadget. He likes to do that, to taunt me.

Packing

I love packing for holidays. It symbolises the launch of the trip for me; confirmation that I am actually going. I begin think about the many ways I will be enjoying myself and the stuff I will need to help me reach that state of not-working bliss. The packing always starts with a subtle 'I don't want to forget this' moment. I will be in the flat and will stumble on something that I should take away with me - say my passport - and thinking that I might not find it again so easily I will put it in a 'handy place', which is usually the middle of the living room floor. Over the next few days the pile gradually grows ... if I use my camera I'll worry that putting it back in the cupboard will sentence me to a camera-free trip as I'll forget to take it out again, so on the floor it goes. As clothes are washed, they don't go in the drawers, but in a pile on the floor so I know not to get them dirty again before I go away. As I write my snowboard boots are already sitting proud next to the supersocks, which lie alongside a water bottle and the UNO cards.

I leave for France in a week and already there is a pile a foot high and spreading; I have just added spare batteries and deep-heat muscle rub to it. When I went to Africa last year I packed so far in advance that a thin layer of dust settled over the firstaid kit.

No doubt anthropologists will say that I got this behaviour from the family dog who regularly used to gather her most precious possessions (bone, slipper, chewy thing) into a protective pile under the dining room table.

The perfect sock

Went hunting for the perfect snowboard sock today. I have been using these grey Salomon socks for a while, which were great, trouble is they're not really long enough. When I used my new boots in Canada in November they dug in around the top edge because the sock finished before the boot did. When I pulled them off after a day on the mountain I had a horizontal scar around each leg that made it look like I'd had leg lengthening surgery. Another reason I need more socks is that one pair of socks is not really enough for a week. No. (Mum - I know you gave me socks for Christmas, but they weren't long enough either. Sorry. They are still nice though.)

Because my new boots had been fitted to my Salomon socks I took one of them with me into town. I was wearing my scruffy duffel coat, I hadn't shaved (day off) and had a big spot on my nose - I think I looked ruff. It didn't help my image that whenever I left a shop and reached into my pocket to pull out my hat, I found myself waving a sock.

I don't think you're really allowed to try socks on, so I had to secretly undo sock packaging and hold the new socks alongside my fave sock to compare size and thickness. I apologize to other sock-hunters in edinburgh who'll have to cope with badly repackaged socks. I particular I'm sorry to the staff at Blacks; I had to stuff a snowboard sock behind the ladies rambling sock section becuase I couldn't see where I'd got it from.

I eventually settled on two pairs of Bridgedale Merino Wool SnowSport Ski and Boarding Socks with Terry-loop comfort, soft double cuff, stretch panel, forward stretch zone, Isofil contouring and Lycra grip. The super-socks are also performance enhanced with 'WoolFusion'. Fantastic - WoolFusion! I have brought nuclear powered socks. Here is a picture. (They say 'Bridgedale' across the toes in case you loose the recipt and can't remember where you brought them.)
I put them on with my boots when I got home to see how they integrated with my thermals, fleecy under-trousers (nice) and big black mountain over-trousers. Unfortunately no-one came to the door, because I looked huge!

The perfect sock (postscript)

Further to my supersock rant, whilst disposing of the packaging I noticed that the socks are intended for "beginner or intermediate" use.

Beginners!?!

They have a sock with 'WoolFusion' and they say it's for beginners?!?

Wow, I wonder what their 'socks for advanced use' look like. (Artists impression follows)