As I write this missive, I can hear drops. Water drops. Why would that concern me? Well, I am at 5000 feet above sea level and it is December. What I should be hearing is the silent descent of millions of snowflakes (God’s dandruff) on their featherlike trajectory to earth granting anything it falls on that flawless Elizabethan complexion. Not the devil’s wee I can see and hear, stripping the mountain of its dignity. But all is not lost. This is a momentary aberration, as Tony Abbot would have us believe. Tomorrow I’m going to wake up to a winter wonderland. Right?! I’ll be waiting for the Deus ex machina.
Its been a crazy few weeks, or blur which seems more appropriate – I’ve eaten pheasant and the wonderful local cheese, Tom de Savoire, stumbled upon Eton (I admit I did feel quite at home there), traversed France in a bus (the most uncivilised form of transport there is), worked my hands to their bones cleaning the chalet I will be working in for the season (therapeutic and Presbyterian), watched 4 and 5 year olds learn to play soccer (hysterical!) and learnt the affects of home brew when consumed at altitude. Those astute ones among you will realise I have not mentioned the one reason I left an Australian summer for a European winter: skiing! The mountain does not open for another week and I am beside myself with excitement – no amount of rain will dent this. Although, I am dying a little bit with every raindrop that falls.
Other worthy news is that I am working and living with a dumb: sadly an Australian dumb. And even worse, a Australian chef dumb who doesn’t realise he is a dumb. His claimed specialty is Italian food (he misses the irony that he is in the French Alps and the Italian Alps are 45 mins away) but he drowns everything in cream: twit. I almost forgot to say he is a choad (those who don’t know what that means, ask a youth). He put an Australian flag up in the window of our apartment. I think he was involved in the Cronulla riots – if not, he wishes he was. Hopefully this is a temporary arrangement. As Dad says, don’t get mad, get even. I will keep you posted.
Everyone else is good fun – some public school boys with proper accents and wonderful prejudices doing their gap year, a few transients, a few redundant professionals, a few middle-aged couples, a dumb Australian, and an Australian lawyer.
More will follow.
B x
