sunday 9th february
my first sight of the day was at 12.45am, staring out of cold ski-train windows at empty trains and nobody else through scratchy, tired eyes. i stood next to steve as everyone else slept stacked on worn leather bunks two feet apart. the sign opposite read 'dijon ville'. we waited for an hour. i remember laughing at low volume after complaining about complete fatigue. steve replied with 'we're travelling. this is part of it.'

''picking up some mustard?' poppa-to-be sonley asked as he squinted through the dim flourescent light shining from the door we were standing in. an obvious and automatic joke. mine was 'show us yer mustard, ya bastards!' out of the window.

we watched an ugly bloke's pet albino ferret crawl through his uglier girlfriend's hair as we stood in front of a heater in paris' garde nord trying to figure out which metal was used for the grille, unaffected by heat. the rest of france disappeared before some darkness and london arrived. we dropped mister maggoo off at liverpool street. i passed work then listened to the history of the kurdish/turkdish from my only-just-english speaking taxi driver unloaded my board and bags. i ate, washed and watched a mooovie. my last sight was my bedroom light turning off, in my new home in north london. when i woke up i only wanted to be home. as i fell asleep i realised steve was right; it's all part of the big picture. the big picture is great.

saturday 8th february
insulin injections and riding on two size nines.

we screamed around courcheval 1850, it's snowpark, black runs and restaurants. we videod kickers, linked turns and went so very very fast, f1ing it all through the afternoon. i crashed so my foot faced the wrong way when i got up, boxed it back into shape, and headed off with ' well, i'm not going to complain about it' after the skiers. when it clicks it's indescribable.



friday 7th february
breakfast:



first chairlift:

at the top:



lunch:



afternoon:





early evening:



thursday 6th february
my right foot is size nine, not seven. powder runs, blue day, burger. lost funky, found a fellow sim-ian (!) link to board.

wednesday 5th february
we will soon be perfecting the fifteen minute shower. life is longer than one job, and a lot of other things.

tuesday 4th february
despite feeling awake for the first time in weeks the up-and-at-'em didn't happen. the boys did breakfast at huksters and a run on the deep, fresh powder we used for the anglo-franco snowball blitz that fell last night. they returned, woke me and by 11 we were all out together... until the evil cowboy hatted powder spreader had passed us on the 'difficile' poma. funky chased as we leapfrogged around courcheval until my binding snapped and i semi-carved (the snowboarding equivalent of limping) back to the lodge. all before 2pm.

peejay's feet were still sore so we had a volunteer cameraman to capture us on our hands and knees building a kicker to practise on play with then in the air... just.

bottom row shots by peejay. hannibal lecter appeared but sounded like austin 'do i make you horny, baby?' powers.

monday 3rd february
grey, courcheval 1850 in a mountain-top blizzard. the ground crawled. closed parks meant manual jumps, the flipside being the sheer amount of powder. there was a huge snowball fight with the french. same time tomorrow, then?

the sign on the tree says 'no swimming'.



sunday 2nd february
chipmunks stretching mouses' tails (a chorus line was apparently involved but i can't accurately describe how) between trees were to blame for the falls (if you were in skis) otherwise it was a technical or schoolbook error. honestly, it wasn't our fault. we really are perfect...

what peejay meant to say was, 'flock of sheep, this is shepherd. come in flock of sheep.' what i ended up saying was 'this is lost shepherd flock of sheep - where the fuck are you?'






saturday 1st february
twidleum. no sleep since thursday night. after all the sitting a stretch of the legs.



friday 31st january
late leaving waterloo - due to snow. (definition of irony?)

as we stood in the disco carriage leaaving le garde de nord steve summed it up perfectly: 'it's like getting pissed on the central line - only in france.'



thursday 30th january
me: 'i'm desperate to try out our walkie talkies'
steve (playing splinter cell): ' hee hee - me too'

we couldn't resist sitting in front of smokey and the bandit in the pursuit of handles, 'ten-ten on the side'sand 'you got it, you lucky devil''s.


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