Myself and A are back home now. The season is over. Both of us are going to do an end of season round up type blog in the next couple of days (well I certainly am, next season will have probably started by the time A gets round to doing one) but for now I wanted to focus on a late arriving character that I have not yet mentioned on here.
Late in the season we were informed by our manager, a very nice, funny Scottish man, that a colleague that had just left was to be replaced by a guy called 'William McTavish'. A real Scottish name if ever there was one. Speculation was rife and there was even a rumour that the Boss had drafted in one of his very own caber tossing, kilt wearing, sporran sporting, ginger bearded cousins to join the team.
The day of Mr McTavish's arrival was upon us and we grouped at the coach drop of point to meet him. The coach doors opened and holiday makers poured off into the sunshine, looking up at the mountain and wondering why they had been lied to by their tour operators and told that they were going on a skiing holiday.
I continued to look towards the door but the smell of haggis just wasn't coming... No tartan. No shortbread. The sound of bagpipes started to seem like mere fantasy. Inexplicably I began to get extremely thirsty for an Irn Bru.
Out of nowhere a very well presented young man of Korean descent with a hairpiece that seemed to have been stolen from a large lego man came up to us and said, 'Hello, I'm Will.' We each said hello back and did our introductions, turns out his name wasn't McTavish and he definitely wasn't Scottish, the Boss had just had one too many fried Mars Bars on the day he told us who was coming and got the Scotch form of verbal diarrhoea.
Will then proceeded to tell us the following, 'I've done a season before, I'm here to do another, I can't wait to get to work, I'm absolutely shattered!' I thought this was quite a noble introduction until I found out he was playing that game where you tell people a load of stuff about yourself and then you have to figure out which single fact is the only piece of truth in the whole spiel. Truth was, little Willie was just 'absolutely shattered'.
So to cut a long story short, Willie, my new flat mate had lied about doing a season previously to his mums friend, the owner of our company, in order to get himself a cheap and easy ski holiday at the end of the season. Over the next 3 weeks, management tried very hard to get in touch with the owner of the company to get permission to fire William. During this time he managed to miss 80% of breakfast shifts, lie in bed for a week with a sore throat but get up each day to go into town for lunch with his friend, serve meat for dinner with no vegetables to guests, say the word 'shattered' a whopping 114 times and use 3 tubs of Garnier Maximum Hold Hair putty.
Finally the Boss was given the go ahead and Willie was given the boot. When asked for his comments on the situation the Boss told us he 'felt like Alan Sugar getting rid of the little maggot' except for him it wasn't 'with regret' but with 'overwhelming pleasure'.
When McTavish was asked for his thought he simply replied that he was 'absolutely shattered'.
Wednesday, 4 May 2011
Saturday, 9 April 2011
Night hike and a Folie fiasco
The snow is horrendous. I have to try very hard not to laugh when newly arriving guests ask me how the skiing is up on the mountain. It's fine though, the sun is glorious. It was A's birthday yesterday so we went for a picnic with some friends. Shorts and t shirts, bare footed in the grass for the first time in months and months, it was wonderful. I've accepted the end of the season is nigh and am now looking forward to the summer. I've even booked my first 2 festival tickets. Just have to keep my fingers crossed for some luck on the Glastonbury resale day.
Tuesday night a group of 16 of us decided to do something a little bit different on the eve of our day off. At 2 in the morning we all woke up and strapped snow shoes to our feet and hiked right up to the very top of the mountain, arriving in time for sunrise. We had hidden our skis and boots there the day before allowing us to ski down before anybody had gone anywhere near the pistes.
It was a really special night and waiting at the top, wrapped in blankets, drinking whiskey to mask the cold before the sun finally arrived has been one of my favourite moments of the whole season.
The hike was a lot of hard work but seeing a shooting star at least every half an hour was enough to get us through. Lucia was also an immense source of entertainment. Within half an hour she revealed she had neglected to bring any water with her in favour of a huge bottle of Glenfiddich whiskey. Good work. An hour after that, the 20 a day smoker filled everyone with confidence by asking if anyone had an inhaler and deciding that this was a good time to let us know she suffers from asthma. She never ceases to amaze me.
Well we made it, and it was beautiful, and that's what counts.
The next day after a couple of hours sleep, still feeling a little bit broken, we jumped on our skis to head over to the resort Val Thorens to go for a party at a famous bar known as the 'Folie Douce'. It was a great ski over and I managed to forget about how tired and sore I was...mainly by Lucia once again pouring a large amount of whiskey down my throat!
So today was the last transfer day of the season, it feels like summer, our last guests have arrived and after this week we can count down the days until we head home. It's been a hell of a season that I'm pretty sure myself and A will never forget. I predict maybe one or 2 more posts on here before shutting the laptop to enjoy the summer... Still, there is always next season to look forward to.
Tuesday night a group of 16 of us decided to do something a little bit different on the eve of our day off. At 2 in the morning we all woke up and strapped snow shoes to our feet and hiked right up to the very top of the mountain, arriving in time for sunrise. We had hidden our skis and boots there the day before allowing us to ski down before anybody had gone anywhere near the pistes.
It was a really special night and waiting at the top, wrapped in blankets, drinking whiskey to mask the cold before the sun finally arrived has been one of my favourite moments of the whole season.
The hike was a lot of hard work but seeing a shooting star at least every half an hour was enough to get us through. Lucia was also an immense source of entertainment. Within half an hour she revealed she had neglected to bring any water with her in favour of a huge bottle of Glenfiddich whiskey. Good work. An hour after that, the 20 a day smoker filled everyone with confidence by asking if anyone had an inhaler and deciding that this was a good time to let us know she suffers from asthma. She never ceases to amaze me.
Well we made it, and it was beautiful, and that's what counts.
The next day after a couple of hours sleep, still feeling a little bit broken, we jumped on our skis to head over to the resort Val Thorens to go for a party at a famous bar known as the 'Folie Douce'. It was a great ski over and I managed to forget about how tired and sore I was...mainly by Lucia once again pouring a large amount of whiskey down my throat!
So today was the last transfer day of the season, it feels like summer, our last guests have arrived and after this week we can count down the days until we head home. It's been a hell of a season that I'm pretty sure myself and A will never forget. I predict maybe one or 2 more posts on here before shutting the laptop to enjoy the summer... Still, there is always next season to look forward to.
Saturday, 2 April 2011
The Easy Life
Last week was far too easy. We had 6 guests. Between 2 of us. This of course did mean that A thought it was acceptable to roll into work 2 hours late in the morning but even then it was still a breeze. And don't worry, it's all being added onto the tab.
We have just greeted our guests for this week, back to a full chalet and 7 children. Alice in the chalet downstairs has a guest called Alex. He is 3...and brilliant. I'm so jealous, it's fine though because I have already made great friends with him. I walked out onto her balcony earlier and young Alex came bounding up to me shouting 'I FOUND A LIZARD, I FOUND A LIZARD, I FOUND A LIZARD, I FOUND A LIZARD, I FOUND A LIZARD!!'.
He had found a lizard.
The 2 of us followed the lizard along the sunny chalet wall for a while before it disappeared into a crack I assume it had adopted as its home. Being the sheep that I am I disappeared into my own crack(den) to roll myself a cigarette after a hard transfer day. Behind me I hear a small high pitched voice say 'Oh so this is your bedroom!'. I turned around to find 3 year old Alex rooting through my belongings and making himself at home in my flat.
Once I had finally ushered him out of my 'not safe for children' living space he started eating dirty brown end-of-season snow from the ground. I told him it probably wasn't a good idea and he might get sick. He ran away so I assumed he had taken what I said on board.
30 seconds later Alex reappeared with a large stick with a big dirty snowball on the end of it. 'Here you go, I brought you an ice cream'.
As far as guests go I think this week will be fine, nothing out of the ordinary. We have, however, just received our manifest for next weeks guests. Wow.
QUOTE: 'Mrs ***** only eats plain salad, steamed/boiled vegetables and steamed/baked fish or tuna'.
What shocked me was not the fact that I only just found out tuna is in fact in a whole different food group to fish, but the fact that this guests requirements spilled onto the next line of the manifest...
'Furthermore, guest and partner have very recently split up, please can they have separate beds.'
To be honest, I'd have dumped the fussy cow too.
We have just greeted our guests for this week, back to a full chalet and 7 children. Alice in the chalet downstairs has a guest called Alex. He is 3...and brilliant. I'm so jealous, it's fine though because I have already made great friends with him. I walked out onto her balcony earlier and young Alex came bounding up to me shouting 'I FOUND A LIZARD, I FOUND A LIZARD, I FOUND A LIZARD, I FOUND A LIZARD, I FOUND A LIZARD!!'.
He had found a lizard.
The 2 of us followed the lizard along the sunny chalet wall for a while before it disappeared into a crack I assume it had adopted as its home. Being the sheep that I am I disappeared into my own crack(den) to roll myself a cigarette after a hard transfer day. Behind me I hear a small high pitched voice say 'Oh so this is your bedroom!'. I turned around to find 3 year old Alex rooting through my belongings and making himself at home in my flat.
Once I had finally ushered him out of my 'not safe for children' living space he started eating dirty brown end-of-season snow from the ground. I told him it probably wasn't a good idea and he might get sick. He ran away so I assumed he had taken what I said on board.
30 seconds later Alex reappeared with a large stick with a big dirty snowball on the end of it. 'Here you go, I brought you an ice cream'.
As far as guests go I think this week will be fine, nothing out of the ordinary. We have, however, just received our manifest for next weeks guests. Wow.
QUOTE: 'Mrs ***** only eats plain salad, steamed/boiled vegetables and steamed/baked fish or tuna'.
What shocked me was not the fact that I only just found out tuna is in fact in a whole different food group to fish, but the fact that this guests requirements spilled onto the next line of the manifest...
'Furthermore, guest and partner have very recently split up, please can they have separate beds.'
To be honest, I'd have dumped the fussy cow too.
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
A few corrections and an Animal Party
A here, sitting having a lovely chocolat chaud avec chantille with our whiskey-slugging bad influence Lucia (I demonstrated to her what it looks like to eat all the whipped cream in one go, she was very impressed.)
She wants to make a few ammendments to J's previous post... well one important ammendment anyway.
The cold sore epidemic did not start with her. Oh no.
The cold sore epidemic all began many moons before that... (This is revenge J. Best served cold.)
One sunny day J was enjoying the apres with a fellow host, who I shall call Charles. Charles and J were delighted to discover they both have a shared appreciation for Take That. "What fun! We both love terrible pop music! I wonder if we have anything else in common? Oh look, we both have cold sores! What a coincidence!"
Male bonding in its most primative form. The sharing of your woman. I am not going to name names, but you're right J, there is a lot of love around resort, and the evidence was all over your face mate.
Now thats done, Lucia wants to do a guest entry...
She wants to make a few ammendments to J's previous post... well one important ammendment anyway.
The cold sore epidemic did not start with her. Oh no.
The cold sore epidemic all began many moons before that... (This is revenge J. Best served cold.)
One sunny day J was enjoying the apres with a fellow host, who I shall call Charles. Charles and J were delighted to discover they both have a shared appreciation for Take That. "What fun! We both love terrible pop music! I wonder if we have anything else in common? Oh look, we both have cold sores! What a coincidence!"
Male bonding in its most primative form. The sharing of your woman. I am not going to name names, but you're right J, there is a lot of love around resort, and the evidence was all over your face mate.
Now thats done, Lucia wants to do a guest entry...
A, J and myself were on chalet Laitalet 2's balcany this morning having a ciggi and staring out into the distance.
I asked them both "where do all the animals go in the winter?"
There was a pause.
A and J looked at eachother and then slowly back at me.
J replied with a confused expression "h...h...haven't you heard about the animal party?!"
I laughed. He didn't. A informed me that the mountains were infact hollow, "Yeah, the mountain is hollow..."
(the thing about this conversation is that these two were replying with upmost sincerity; as if I hadn't heard about the animal party?!)
"You know when you're on the chairlift and you see those little footprint tracks beneath you? yeah well they're like the little marmottes stumbling out of the winter rave seen from the hollow mountain to pick up some more crates" J says whilst immitating a little drunk marmotte carrying a crate of beer. "I'm pretty sure I saw a chipmonk the other day rolling a keg around....47 second keg stand by the chipmonks....fuckin A."
A turns to me, and with the straightest and most serious face I have seen on that girl says to me "It's all about the animal party"
I asked them both "where do all the animals go in the winter?"
There was a pause.
A and J looked at eachother and then slowly back at me.
J replied with a confused expression "h...h...haven't you heard about the animal party?!"
I laughed. He didn't. A informed me that the mountains were infact hollow, "Yeah, the mountain is hollow..."
(the thing about this conversation is that these two were replying with upmost sincerity; as if I hadn't heard about the animal party?!)
"You know when you're on the chairlift and you see those little footprint tracks beneath you? yeah well they're like the little marmottes stumbling out of the winter rave seen from the hollow mountain to pick up some more crates" J says whilst immitating a little drunk marmotte carrying a crate of beer. "I'm pretty sure I saw a chipmonk the other day rolling a keg around....47 second keg stand by the chipmonks....fuckin A."
A turns to me, and with the straightest and most serious face I have seen on that girl says to me "It's all about the animal party"
Monday, 28 March 2011
Saulire Sessions
Our rep, Kyle, has left us to go back to his job on Barry Island (hotdogs and candyfloss served up by a gypo on the back of a donkey) as a tree surgeon. We are all very saddened by this and my ritual of an after ski cigarette and a beer on his balcony will be severely missed. I will not miss ‘the rage’ that seems to occur whenever he consumes large amounts of alcohol but still…there is a gaping hole left in the resort.
There is currently a cold sore epidemic in our resort. It started with Lucia, my bad influence as A refers to her. It popped up when she was run down a couple of weeks ago and since then about 7 other people have developed some very unattractive lips. It is difficult to tell how exactly it has been spread about and the order in which it has happened but it is fair to say that many of my colleagues are perhaps feeling the love for each other a little too much.
A has become a little cocky with work now that she is nailing the budget and continues to turn up late and leave me in the lurch, it’s fine though, I’m just biding my time to take all the time I’m owed at once – might take a week off.
So I have finally made the decision with regards to what to do later this year… I’m sacking off uni and doing another season. I’ll be coming back to the same resort to run a chalet with my friend Anna. A is still unsure but will potentially be coming back as a rep.
As I am no longer going to be doing the music management course I have been putting off for 3 years it seems the music promoter within me had been getting itchy eardrums. About 2 weeks ago myself and some friends came up with the idea for the ‘Saulire Sessions’. We are basically bugging any local musicians we come across to cram into one of the ski bubbles with us and film a short acoustic session to be released on youtube as an online series.
We have filmed several already and there are more on the way, these can be viewed at www.youtube.com/sauliresessions
For now, a plus don la bus.
Monday, 21 March 2011
Chalet of the Week... Controversial!
SO….! Big news, mine and A’s chalet has once again received the ‘Chalet of the Week’ award. This means we can be happy in the knowledge that we are fucking ace hosts, it also means we get to take a morning off. For some people though, having a morning off is a privilege they can decide to take on a whim as I discovered this week when A abandoned me during breakfast. She got away with it though because she has really been on top of the budget recently. It was a tough trek at the start of the season but she got under budget eventually. (You owe me a morning!!)
For those of you that thought I was dead, the rumours are not true, I am alive and kicking, A is correct though…I am living the rock and roll dream. The season however, is slowly reaching a ripe old age and preparing for retirement which is very sad indeed. As A mentioned, it is also causing some dilemmas to present themselves to us. This September the plan was to finally take the Music Management Degree I have deferred for the last 2 years and get on track to becoming the next Michael Eavis. Each and every day the idea of another season becomes more and more attractive.
I’ve been told by several people to sack off uni and do another season, rock and roll. I’ve been told by many others that I should go back to school and better myself, get my career started, expand my horizons etc. I was hoping my mother would just straight out tell me what to do but she told me (very briefly of course) I need to weigh up the pros and cons of both options and decide whether university is a financially viable option. So I’m none the wiser. I’m just going to carry on having it in a big way and hopefully I’ll make a brash decision and stupidly confirm it when I’m drunk and won’t be able to go back on it.
Ask no questions, hear no lies.
The last 4 weeks could not have been more different to each other. We had our lovely gluten free guest, a group of nutters who presented a dick of the day award each evening, the winner of which had to wear an alligator costume for an entire night, the lovely family with the breakdancing kid, the Saga group with a man in his 90s who skiied every single day and the last week a group of Londoners who to my delight have given A no end of grief for her missed shift earlier in the week.
One of my favourite moments of late came from the family. One of the youngsters had their birthday in the Chalet so we made her a cake and put up a load of balloons in the evening. The kids ate a load of cake, drank a load of coke and went absolutely bonkers for about an hour. One of them shoved a balloon up his jumper and started running around saying ‘I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant!!’ It was at this point that his Dad (who had consumed several glasses of fizzy pop himself) came jumping out from round a corner with a drawing pin and shouted, ‘AND I’M THE MIDWIFE!’ before popping his sons pregnant balloon belly, leaving him looking like he had just prematurely deployed the ‘chorizo pork stew’ we served for dinner that evening.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
Rock'N'Rolla
This post is a response to the fierce rumours running rife (amazing alliteration from A) in Angleterre that J has gone 'off the rails'... Apparently some people are growing concerned because whenever anyone from home phones J is absolutely smashed.
So to clarify... yes. He is smashed a lot. But no, he hasnt gone off the rails. He's just rock and roll.
As he said to me this morning whilst cooking breakfast and swigging port frrom the bottle, "Theres no school like old school and I'm the fucking headmaster".
A ski season is already a pretty messy affair, you work hard, ski hard, then play hard. To quote another ski blogger,"you dont so much burn the candle at both ends... rather you blow torch it from all angles." But a couple of months ago we had a new addition to our living space, in the form of Lucia, who doesnt like being called this, but is a bit of a lad; she drinks whiskey straight, dresses a bit like a gangster, and likes to break the law. She is a terrible influence (which I think is wonderful) and has pushed J into new realms of trouble. With her, he drinks shots.
Two weeks ago we had our mid season staff day out to Annecy, this is a messy messy day. We all went out on Tuesday night, some did not get to bed till it was light outside. No names mentioned but I'm pretty sure J was one of the ones who walked home up the ski slope at 5:30am. The following morning, after an hour or so's sleep, a coach picked us up, and on everyone piles complete with bottles of beer (or in Lucias case, whiskey, and mine, gin and tonic) and a party-hard mentality. Two hours later we roll up to Annecy, some people are already having trouble walking, and are basically let loose onto this quaint french town to fully uphold the english-abroad stereotype. Within about 10 minutes J and Lucia are kicked out of foot locker after knocking over all the displays. The day unfolds pretty much as it starts, J and the 18 year old ladies man knock over all the pieces on a giant chess set up in the shopping mall, Lucia drags me into a photo booth and makes me take my top off, the welshman gets in a fight with a group of homeless folk and the day ends with 100 seasonnaires descending on Mcdonalds for their first Big Mac in 4 months.
Yesterday ourselves and our co-workers hopped on a coach at 8am to Tignes to watch the X-Games. This basically meant we spent a day sitting on the side of a slope, drinking the deceptively named "crazy juice" (white wine and apple juice.. not particularly crazy) occasionally turning around to see if anything was happening on the half pipe. Later on in the day, the action did actually start, and with a 3pm hangover kicking in, we watched the pro's from the designated viewing area along either side of the half pipe.
Well some of us did. Two people, my lovely co-host and his bad influence, bribed a security guard with a 2 euro coin to let them shimmy under a ski lift, where they then climbed a TV tower to get a better view of the games. After being told once to climb down, they waited about 5 minutes before climbing back up, and then were physically escorted from the X-games by security. Bad bad J.
In other news J and I are facing a tricky decision. Both of us have university places waiting for us to take up in September, but as the end of the season looms more and more people are making plans to return to this or other resorts next season, and we both want to do the same.
A season is really best done whilst you're still young whereas uni can wait... I'm 50/50 at the moment but we have our eye on a little place in the centre of town that we feel we could reign over as king and queen of the 2* chalet.
I am hoping that guidance will come in the form of our lovely friend from home who arrives on a transfer bus on Saturday, whom is going to give us both stern words in all aspects of our lifes, as we have both been misbehaving in a big way. Ski seasons are bubbles and you lose perspective on everything at home. This lovely friend is our first guest from home of the season and I'm very excited. I have already moved a crate of wine and some clean towels down to my apartment from the chalet, and asked around for someone with a bit more experience than me to teach her how to ski. This lovely friend, whom I shall call 'S' (I don't think that letter has been used yet) has already told me off for using the word 'steazy' in a serious way though, so I hope she doesnt think we have become a bit too cool for school. Particularly J, the self-proclaimed 'fucking headmaster'.
Anyway, for now, this is over and out! (I am definately not too cool...)
So to clarify... yes. He is smashed a lot. But no, he hasnt gone off the rails. He's just rock and roll.
As he said to me this morning whilst cooking breakfast and swigging port frrom the bottle, "Theres no school like old school and I'm the fucking headmaster".
A ski season is already a pretty messy affair, you work hard, ski hard, then play hard. To quote another ski blogger,"you dont so much burn the candle at both ends... rather you blow torch it from all angles." But a couple of months ago we had a new addition to our living space, in the form of Lucia, who doesnt like being called this, but is a bit of a lad; she drinks whiskey straight, dresses a bit like a gangster, and likes to break the law. She is a terrible influence (which I think is wonderful) and has pushed J into new realms of trouble. With her, he drinks shots.
Two weeks ago we had our mid season staff day out to Annecy, this is a messy messy day. We all went out on Tuesday night, some did not get to bed till it was light outside. No names mentioned but I'm pretty sure J was one of the ones who walked home up the ski slope at 5:30am. The following morning, after an hour or so's sleep, a coach picked us up, and on everyone piles complete with bottles of beer (or in Lucias case, whiskey, and mine, gin and tonic) and a party-hard mentality. Two hours later we roll up to Annecy, some people are already having trouble walking, and are basically let loose onto this quaint french town to fully uphold the english-abroad stereotype. Within about 10 minutes J and Lucia are kicked out of foot locker after knocking over all the displays. The day unfolds pretty much as it starts, J and the 18 year old ladies man knock over all the pieces on a giant chess set up in the shopping mall, Lucia drags me into a photo booth and makes me take my top off, the welshman gets in a fight with a group of homeless folk and the day ends with 100 seasonnaires descending on Mcdonalds for their first Big Mac in 4 months.
Yesterday ourselves and our co-workers hopped on a coach at 8am to Tignes to watch the X-Games. This basically meant we spent a day sitting on the side of a slope, drinking the deceptively named "crazy juice" (white wine and apple juice.. not particularly crazy) occasionally turning around to see if anything was happening on the half pipe. Later on in the day, the action did actually start, and with a 3pm hangover kicking in, we watched the pro's from the designated viewing area along either side of the half pipe.
Well some of us did. Two people, my lovely co-host and his bad influence, bribed a security guard with a 2 euro coin to let them shimmy under a ski lift, where they then climbed a TV tower to get a better view of the games. After being told once to climb down, they waited about 5 minutes before climbing back up, and then were physically escorted from the X-games by security. Bad bad J.
In other news J and I are facing a tricky decision. Both of us have university places waiting for us to take up in September, but as the end of the season looms more and more people are making plans to return to this or other resorts next season, and we both want to do the same.
A season is really best done whilst you're still young whereas uni can wait... I'm 50/50 at the moment but we have our eye on a little place in the centre of town that we feel we could reign over as king and queen of the 2* chalet.
I am hoping that guidance will come in the form of our lovely friend from home who arrives on a transfer bus on Saturday, whom is going to give us both stern words in all aspects of our lifes, as we have both been misbehaving in a big way. Ski seasons are bubbles and you lose perspective on everything at home. This lovely friend is our first guest from home of the season and I'm very excited. I have already moved a crate of wine and some clean towels down to my apartment from the chalet, and asked around for someone with a bit more experience than me to teach her how to ski. This lovely friend, whom I shall call 'S' (I don't think that letter has been used yet) has already told me off for using the word 'steazy' in a serious way though, so I hope she doesnt think we have become a bit too cool for school. Particularly J, the self-proclaimed 'fucking headmaster'.
Anyway, for now, this is over and out! (I am definately not too cool...)
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