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...)
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