April 1, 2016, by Charlie Porter

Ski Trip Blues

I woke up on Sunday two weeks ago with the smell of sunshine and snow and skiing seeping under my door. I struggled with the clasps on my boots and bumbled with my poles but by early morning I was out on the slopes, gliding across freshly-fallen snow with the Val Thorens air coursing through my hair.

I wake up this morning, still wearing the pyjamas I put on on Monday morning. I’d fallen asleep on my coursework and I’d set my alarm for outrageous’o’clock. I lumber down the stairs but only the smell of impending deadlines greet me. Rustling up a bowl of Weetabi, I sit down at my desk ready for another solid day of coursework, and I know that I’m definitely not in Val Thorens anymore…



On the first morning of ski trip I thrust back the curtains to a panorama of cascading mountains and roaring blue skies. Here, the greatest landmark is my neighbour mowing the lawn in his loafers.



Lunch: whether it was on the peaks of the mountains or lounging in the deck chairs outside Bar 360 (and trying not to let the waiters see you eating your packed lunch)… and the bread. Warm, fresh French sticks bought for every morning or delivered by the infamous French ‘Bread Man’, I could not get enough of that bread.


…and cheese. Whether or not that was just me, I fully got into the swing of things but eating an almost-sickening amount of cheese. When I got back home I tried to divulge my parents in my new-found delicacies and invited them to a baked Camembert with grapes and blackberry jam on bread. Safe to say it tasted a little different eating it in the Mendips of Somerset than in the Alps.


I have function of my kneecaps. That one I’m glad about, although there’s something nostalgic about the rigid ski-boot shuffle followed by the euphoria when you finally take your boots off at the end of the day.


Malaysia. Not the place, but the club. Buried underneath the slopes, Malaysia is home to the coolest live band I’ve ever seen who can actually play you anything: from Beyonce’s Single Ladies to Justin Bieber’s entire new album, these guys literally blew my mind.


An awesome time. I need to find some cliché way to end this post anyway but it seems an appropriate way to conclude. “But ski trip is too much money!” you say. “But everyone’s from Surrey?” Who cares? Ski trip was such a great experience, worth every penny, and you should get yourself booked on to the next one.


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