My Duret Free 180 is waxed and some minor damage to the tail of one of my Volkl P30s has been repaired, all again thanks to the good people at Caribou Sport. The laundry is done and dry. The phone line has been secured. The packing will soon be finished, and then the big tidy-up can get properly underway.

I’ve treated Holly and Chris to pizza for lunch: I didn’t want to do any more washing up. I’ve got plenty of fridge and bathroom to clean as it is.

Today was the last day of skiing so back to Avoriaz to take it easy. Sjek has taken to the sport like a duck to water, and suddenly went tearing down Combe des Crêtes with me on the monoski barely able to catch up. I could see the adrenaline flush on her face when she stopped: terrified but clearly loving it!

Over the ten days or so that I’ve used the monoski I feel that I’ve really taken to it. My original reasons for buying one and trying it were:

“Salut, monoskieur!”

“Salut, monoskieur! Ça va?”

“Très bien! Et vous?”

“J’adore le monoski!”

I’m known for ranting about various subjects with my friends, and one of the common themes (especially during Martin’s stay) has been about attraction and relationships. Why do so many girls complain that they’re going out with yet another jerk? or ass-hole? or perhaps something involving even more colourful language? One hypothesis is that it is all too easy to confuse self-confidence for self-centered arrogance, and so one misses the rarer qualities of a secure and caring individual and ends up dating the jerk.

Skiers and snowboarders alike seem to have a hate-hate relationship with button lifts. I understand why. Compared to the chair lift — in my mind the most sophisticated and comfortable way to get oneself up a mountainside, and certainly the most convenient as one doesn’t have to remove skis/boards and walk around like a stormtrooper or cyberman — the button lift is something of a brute.

As we headed up the chair lift to the top of Super-Morzine we began to feel a gentle breeze. Nothing particularly strong, and not continuous but more like breathing. Foehn! True to yesterday’s “joke” I took Sjek off-piste. Just a short way off Seraussaix which we could have walked, but it’s much easier to move in deep powder on skis than in shoes. A short distance from the Alpage de Seraussaix we planted our skis and Sjek prepared her kite.