I hate travelling.

So the beginnings of the back-blips of my week skiing in Norway, if you can't stand people's holiday photos look away now. 

For some reason, if you want to get to Oslo from Scotland you have to go through Amsterdam. 

Having got up so early it was hardly worth going to bed we drove out to Edinburgh airport and caught a dawn flight to Amsterdam. Schiphol airport is so big that the word massive doesn't cover it. We landed and then taxied for fifteen minutes to get to our gate. Having landed twenty minutes late we had only half an hour to get ourselves to the other end of the airport to catch our connecting flight. We made it, but not by much. 

Amsterdam to Oslo was a carbon copy of the first leg, but we were more relaxed, I had a quick kip on the floor of Oslo airport waiting for the bus, and at nine o'clock at night we arrived at our destination. Venebu. 

Holiday had begun. 

This is one of the Ibsen quotes set into the floor of Oslo airport.