The writing’s in the snow

A later than planned start, with everyone losing/forgetting stuff, but finally all the correct lighting protocols were put in place, and off on the long drive to Andorra.

As you see, the weather was kind, with Mr B skiing in a shirt and no jacket. After the standard first run wobbles for CarbBoy - who unerringly forgets he can ski for the first 30 minutes, then obviously muscle memory kicks in and you can’t see him for (snow)dust. Then we revert to standard formulation: Mr B is route-finder, the kids follow in the order of whoever is first to move, and I am the sweeper who picks up stray poles, gloves and bodies. None of which today, as I was the only one who fell, on the second last lift of the day when TallGirl accidentally clipped my ski and I tumbled, camel-like, to an ungainly, knee-crunching heap.

Happily, after ice, ibuprofen and wine, I am probably going to live to ski another day.

There is writing in the snow - the kids had to explain it to me. Blissfully mostly empty slopes and, despite the lack of new snow for a while, the pistes were in pretty good shape.

Once my boots had been prised off my feet (two person job with a bad knee and a funny hip), back to the hotel for work (me), shopping, dinner and games night. CarbBoy and I won the strategy game, mainly because Mr B only really started picking up the rules in the last few minutes, then TallGirl introduced us to the card game they play between classes, which was super-fun, mainly because MrB didn’t understand the rules (you play with only picture cards, which he hadn’t picked up and just kept thinking he was getting a brilliant hand every time). Then an epic jenga, of which I will add extras if if I can make it work. May be our tallest yet.

In between all of that we learned about horses snickering and Mr B realised his face is burnt again.