Getting Dumped By Your Homeland

I've sat on this blog post for roughly a month now. Largely because I wasn't entirely happy with it - not necessarily about the subject material (I mean, how the fuck can I be happy writing about it), but mainly because I wasn't entirely certain of how to get my point across. Well, it's been pretty much a month since… that day… so, it might as well see the light of day.

When I first started writing this blog post I was still too disappointed in events to continue writing (I felt like that annoying history teacher at school that never lost their shit, but was just disappointed that somebody had drawn a cock on somebody else's homework.). It was also one of the hardest things I've had to do in a while. I mean, let's be honest, my life revolves around cleaning, making beds, more cleaning, initiating small talk with people that I have very little in common with, and dealing with idiots. Not the most taxing issues people have to deal with in this world.

Always have an escape plan...

It is also a blog post unlike another that I've written – usually I'm describing life in the mountains, how I exist, and how drunk the last 6 months has been. This time it's all about how it feels to be living on the continent, away from the bubble of the UK and looking at it all from the outside. Let me assure you – it's not really a nice thing to be witnessing from afar.

One shitty Thursday, roughly a month ago, the United Kingdom decided, as a people, to become an inward looking, nostalgia driven, uninformed populous that is shrinking away from the rest of the world. And, as a member of the 1.2 million British people that live in the EU, I am in the position that allows me a different viewpoint on the whole damn mess – okay, so it's not unique, but you get the idea.

I am a fully fledged member of 'Generation Y'. We are, as a group, an outward looking and mobile generation. We have grown up with an increasing volatile and fractured world, but that has meant that we are also a generation has been afforded the ability to live and work pretty much anywhere in the world. From those of us who have run away to the mountains, to those finding themselves through a 'Gap Yah' on a little known island in the middle of fucking nowhere (and everybody left between). It's wonderfully liberal and helps us to connect with people from all walks of life.

On a personal level, I have always been proud to say that I am from the UK. Until now. Now, there is an underlying sense of shame whenever anybody asks where I'm from. I fear that I am not alone in this feeling.

Waking up to the news that my homeland had voted to leave the EU was horrible. Yes, it was democratic and I'd had my vote, but it was still horrible. Many of my friends out here have spoken of how it made them feel – one has a very eloquent comparison to leaving a girlfriend under the promise of something better, but then finding out the replacement probably didn't exist. He put it a lot better than that and I really can't do it justice, but I know what he means. The day after felt like I'd been fired from my job and dumped on the same day – and not knowing what the fuck I'd done wrong to deserve it.

How are you supposed to recover from that? I mean, shutting myself away in a darkened room with Ryan Adams playing really isn't going to cut it this time.

Somebody go and put the vinyl on...

The result of the referendum has now become something that defines people – not only back in the UK, but on the continent as well. I was fortunate enough (in my opinion) to have a family who all voted to remain within the EU. This is not the case for all of the Brits that live in my particular part of the Alps. I know of people who haven't spoken to family members since [the fucking referendum] because of the way they voted.

It's also ended up defining us in other ways as well.

Any time somebody asks where you're from, and you answer with “the UK”, you are now greeted with a look. I still haven't worked it out – it's a mixture of sadness, pity and loathing. Therefore, straight off the bat, you have follow it up with the statement “but I voted to remain in the EU”. But the damage has been done. The shame is there. It feels like the moment a guest catches you eating your breakfast at work – you know you haven't done anything wrong, but you also know that they're judging you. I mean, the people that judge you for eating your breakfast are pricks, but the French, the Germans, the Italians, etc. they're not. They've got good reason to give us that look. As a nation we've further heightened the fragility of the continent that we are part of. We've helped give further raise to the 'exiters' in these countries, we've helped weaken the overall economic performance of the region (which has direct impacts on other countries… sorry Italy), and we've fucked up people's compassion and tolerance.

The other major way that this shit-storm has defined us is the uncertainty. It's like predicting next winter's snowfall – nobody knows what the fuck is going to happen. Everybody tries to remain positive and pretend that they know for certain, but nobody really does.

And, for all those that say, “Oh, it'll be fine. It'll work itself out, these things always do” - do they? Excellent, let's go and ask the last country that left the EU… no, wait, you can't BECAUSE IT HASN'T FUCKING HAPPENED BEFORE! Twat.

But, seriously, speaking from where I'm currently situated, there is an entire region, an entire industry on tenterhooks waiting to see how this all pans out. And I'm not even talking about the shit that everybody thinks about – freedom of movement, falling rate of the pound, etc. No, I'm talking about the other aspects that are slipping under the radar. For example, what the fuck happens when the EHIC system gets revoked? How does a company pay for insurance for all of their staff? Or what if they don't? What if they leave it up to the employee to buy health insurance? Because, let's be honest, buying health insurance for what is classed as an extreme sport, for a 5 month period, is going to be cheap as chips!

I know this scenario isn't just playing out for the ski industry, but that's the aspect that has a direct impact on my life at the moment. Seasonal work, throughout the EU, is now in a state of limbo until some random day in the future when some fuckwits in parliament decide it's time to trigger Article 50.

That's how it feels though – to live in the EU whilst your homeland is deciding that it doesn't want to be involved any longer. The overriding feeling is one of shame and disappointment, and is one that won't be going away for a very long time.

Right, I'm off to listen to some Ryan Adams and see if that helps. I doubt it.

Until next time.

Rooster

An Apology. Of Sorts.

Well, that was one hell of a winter, wasn't it? Did you enjoy the updates!?! Sorry about that. I honestly meant to keep up the blog this winter, it has never meant to be a single season thing – purely because I want to have some form of contact with folks in the UK.

The aim of this post is to apologise, give you a brief heads-up as to how it was, and then to confirm to you, the masses, that I will be writing more over the summer and will go into more stories of what happened this winter (because there are a fair few that deserve their own posts!).

Do this?? Or write?? Yeah... sorry!!

So, where to begin??

I guess the snow would be a good point (and something I blame for my lack of posting). The start of the winter was slow – across the Alps. We had a couple of dumps in late November and that really got us through the initial weeks, thank fuck! Towards the end of last summer, mountain bums had been waxing lyrical over the fact that El Nino was a biggy this year, and that was supposed to mean a bumper year for snow in Europe. Fast forward to December and we were starting to pray to every fucker and his dog that the snow would actually appear at some point. It was devastating.

And then, THEN, it happened!! For 18 solid days, in January, it snowed (in some form or other). Whether it was a flurry, a big dump, a storm, a 'let's all look like yetis on the lift' storm. Fuck me, it was good. Skiing in the softest, champagne snow and basically eating snow every time you made a turn, winter had arrived with aplomb. February and March continued in the same vein, topping up every time there was an inkling that the snow might turn to shit. April was a different affair – it got hot, goggle tans were to be worked on, slush riding was a given and BBQs happened more than the local bar owner was shoving another form of white stuff up his nose. By that point, though, nobody really cared – it'd been a solid winter!

Which was a good thing, because the punters were their usual dickish selves for the entirety of the winter. To begin with it was, “No, I don't know when it's going to snow!! And trust me I'm more concerned than you are because I'm here for the next 16 weeks and grass skiing looks shit!”, but then it quickly moved on to, “Stop fucking moaning that it's snowing – YOU'RE IN A FUCKING SKI RESORT”.

And that was just the beginning. This winter, people excelled at being fucking morons. Just because you are on holiday it does not mean that you are allowed to check your brain into Left Luggage at Geneva. Fuck off. From the dickhead who had his ski boots couriered to a resort 60k away (and blamed us), to the fuckwit who went into the back-country without a guide and got lost – that was a personal favourite as I got to go chasing after him like a one-man-band rescue team (I didn't find him, but he eventually turned up looking like Jack Nicholson out of The Shining).

"Not for the first time, Jerry didn't have a clue what he was doing..."

It wasn't just the punters that were idiots this year – resort staff were on another level too. It probably can be put down to the snow being pretty good and everybody leaving their heads up the hill, but either way it was pretty impressive.

Bar staff had left resort before it had opened because they went to another resort, got in fights and ended up coming back with broken hands, wrist, etc. Nice one, dickheads – you came out for a winter season and you've ended up going home before it even fucking snowed. Slick. Our staff were equally as special. This year we had broken knees, broken hands, broken teeth, bruised egos and broken hearts. Ah, to live in the mountains – everything is so simple.

Most of the special stuff, by our staff anyway, was on the mountain. People going off without guides and ending up closer to other resorts than home. People heading off without appropriate kit – admittedly nothing too terrible happened, but still, screw your fucking heads on. The best story came from two lads who took to hiking a local ridge for some freshies. The hike should've only taken 45 minutes, but it took them 6 hours because they went up in the clouds, got lost, walked around in circles and then eventually managed to get back to their start point. And that was all after one of them had managed to set off his airbag on the chairlift. The mind boggles at the idiocy.

"This way.. or that way?"

To be fair though, our staff were on point when it came to their actual work and being in and about the chalets. I could count, on both hands, the amount of times staff were late to shift. Which is unheard of. No, the main problem at work was the incompetent ineptitude of the management. I say management, but it was only one. Then again she was the Catering Manager (herein known as Dory because she was the spitting image of the little blue fish), so she had an impact on the whole company. Don't worry – Dorys' getting a whole blog post to herself, which feels weird because I honestly want to cut her out of my memory.

To explain, I feel that I should give a brief example of how she managed to fuck everybody off – and that's not even an overstatement, she managed the impressive feat of alienating EVERYBODY in resort by the time she left.

So, one of the busiest changeovers of the year in our flagship took place and it was pretty much all hands to the deck. Dory pops over to give a helping hand (so far so good), but in doing so proceeds to wind everybody up to the point that I had to tell her to fuck off from the chalet. Rather than helping with the system that was already in place, Dory decided to tackle it her own way – fuck everybody else, her way was best. Now, one of the best chalet hosts I've ever come across also happens to be the most chilled guy you've ever met as well. We'll call him 'Pickle' (since that is actually his nickname). Pickle is one of those sickening types that picked a snowboard up for the first time and two weeks later he was chucking rodeos of fuck-off big drops. You can't hate him for it though because he's always chirpy, always up for a good time and gives everybody the time of day. Pickle was late out to resort and had arrived not two days before. I've known Pickle for a couple of years now and have never know him lose his temper or, in any way, profess to want to hit anybody. He had 36 hours and one changeover with Dory and enlightened me on the fact that he basically wanted to give her the Archie Slap (watch RocknRolla if you don't know what that is).

Anyway, as I said, she's getting her own post of shame. Silly bitch.

But that, in a nutshell, was the season. It came, it saw, it dumped, it fucked off and now we're closing down for the summer. It was an absolute blast. We smashed the shit out of it – in all possible ways. We worked hard, we skied hard and we partied hard. What else do you want from a season?!

As a final point, I would like to state that I've had some abuse from the masses back home. 3 amigos deserve a particular mention, because without them I probably would've written this post sooner (I joke), but yeah… thanks to Chief Wiggum, 'I've-got-more-bollocks-than-Lance' Armston, and 'I-swear-I-never-said-I-looked-like-Kris-Marshall-to-get-her-into-bed' Burns.

Until next time! (Which won't be as long as last time).

Rooster

Tracking Mountain Animals... Or Seasonaires!!

It is about this time that some of us start to think about going back out to the mountains for another 6 months of late nights, early mornings, cleaning toilets, and too many jagerbombs. I, for one, will be making this journey in less than a month; and I can't wait!

For others though, this will be their first (and perhaps only) time of making the sacred pilgrimage to the snowy areas of this world. And this blog post is written for them.

I remember the build up to my first season in France. It was a mixture of excitement, nerves, and apprehension. To help with my need for having a calm before the storm, I looked to have my questions answered. And where else do you look, but the internet?!

Now, there were all sorts of blogs out there (there still are) and whilst some had original and useful content, the majority just repeated each other – yes, you'll need more socks than you thought possible to own. Yes, packing condoms is a good idea. Yes, taking a UK extension lead will be invaluable. But, come on, tell me something else that the last 10 blogs haven't already told me!! Namely, what are the other people like that I'm going to be spending this crazy experience with?!

And that, kids, is what I'll attempt to cover today.

Passport & socks.. anything else for the winter?!

The basic reaction will be that you are going to meet like minded individuals, but whilst that is true on the surface, it goes much deeper than that. The people that are in the mountains are there for a number of reasons – some are living off the 'Bank of Mum & Dad' and are just there for a 'gap yah' experience, some are there because they're running from something in the real world, others are there because they've ended up in the never-ending trap of seasonal work and a final few are there because it's something that they've always wanted to do – and now is their opportunity to do it.

Let us consider the first group – those that are living off the 'Bank of Mum & Dad'. These types can be initially recognised by the amount of bags that they will turn up at resort with. Seriously, they'll have more clothes than you ever deemed possible. One set of snow boots will not suffice – they need at least three. You will quickly understand the need for all of the bags once they start to ship out all of their beauty and hair products.

Ski attire or not?!

As you get into the nitty gritty of your training, these people will really come to the fore. And not in a good way. They tend to be the folks that you find outside the chalet complaining about everything. Complaining that they've run out of 'straights' and they don't know where the shop is or how to roll. Complaining that they actually had to get up at 8am this morning (a breeze compared to when the season properly kicks of). That their hands are ruined from all of the cleaning products and the work that they're having to do. Complaining that they might actually have to cook when they get home in the evening. The list goes on.

The second group on the list is those people that are running from something in the real world. This group is actually the largest group in the mountains. And the reasons are wildly varied. I've met people that are actually running – from the tax-man, a psychotic ex, all manner of things. Others are just running from the real world.

This bunch of misfits should be handled with care. By and large people who are running from things, once you scratch the surface, are fantastic. You just need to get that out of them. It is possible that you will make friends for life with some of them. Get to know them, find out what makes them tick, find out their vices and why they are doing what they are doing. And remember, if you look out for them, they will look out for you. And that is something that is invaluable on a ski season!

(Just don't get too close to the local nutter – that has the potential to alienate everybody).

Local nutters can be found anywhere...

The third bunch, you will have the pleasure of meeting, are those that have got sucked into doing seasons. This can range from a mid-twenties chef who has been doing this since he could first clean a pot, through a middling 40 year old, who has no idea how they ended up there, what their job actually entails or how they might ever get back to a 'normal society'.

When you meet this lot, feel blessed. They are fantastic. I'm not just saying that because I potentially fall into this group, but because they genuinely are. These guys and gals know why you are there, (possibly) remember their first season and will attempt to guide you so that you don't make the same mistakes that they did and will help you to make the most of your time in the mountains.

You are most likely to find this group doing one of three things (all things you should aspire to do). They'll either be:-

1. Nailing their work.
2. Nailing the mountain.
3. Nailing the bar.

Nailed it...

The key to a good season (and life), they will tell you, is to strike a balance between these three. It is a fine line, but it can be done.

The final group on the list is one that you, the reader, will feel you fall in to. Just doing it as a once in a lifetime thing. Getting it out of the system. Finding yourself. However you want to describe it, it's a big scary group and one that you should cherish and embrace.

Remember a few key points and you will be well on your way to having a fantastic time living it up in the mountains.

1. Remember why you are there – don't get bogged down in work.
2. Remember that work is necessary to maintain your season. Don't mess it up and get sent home.
3. Christmas is tough, but it's the same for everybody and you'll all have a blast anyway.
4. Treat everybody fairly. That includes your guests.
5. Unless they're a complete nutter, if somebody gives you advice, it's probably worth taking it on board.
6. Find/ make a good playlist to ride to.
7. Don't forget to phone home every now and again (more than once a season).
8. Cake is currency – you can trade it for absolutely anything.
9. Ride as much as you can. This might be your only opportunity to do this.
10. Remember that you could be stuck doing a 9-5 and the same boring commute, day in, day out. No matter how many toilets you clean, or beds you make, you have one hell of a lifestyle!
11. Don't eat yellow snow. Ever.

At the end of the day, the people you meet on your season will be a complete mix-match. Some you will like and some you will hate. You never know you might even love some. But at the bottom of it all is a love for the mountains and a love for winter. We all have that in common. And when the final guests leave, and shut down is complete… well… we might just see you next year!

A-Z of Seasons: Part 2

How was that then?! I hope you enjoyed the first part of the A-Z of seasons. And if you didn't, well.. shit.. lighten up a bit!! Now for the second part...

'N' is for Neige

That would be the French for snow. Not as important word as you may think for a group of people living in the mountains during winter. However, the British have taken it upon themselves to integrate this word into their vocab. “It's neiging!” and “Where the fuck is the neige?!” are now common phrases amongst seasonaires. It's all about learning the local lingo you see...

If this isn't a thing in your local resort, get with the times and make it so.

Now that's what you call neige...

'O' is for Onesie

This one was a tough call. It was either 'off-piste' or 'onesie' and in the end the latter prevailed, because let's be honest, who the hell doesn't like a onesie. There are the old French dudes that rock the '80s style on the slopes – complete with headband and bumbag, through to the modern types that rock Willerfinders (seriously, check them out, they're cool!).

Never forget though… Onesies Wednesdays are a thing. You should always take part where possible.

All about the onesie...

'P' is for Piste

These are the nicely grooved, corduroy looking, freshly bashed, motorway looking things that snake their way down the mountain. Some resorts have hundreds of them, whereas others… not so much. They're graded from green to black.

Green Runs tend to be flat and for beginners. Blue Runs are a little steeper and full of ski schools (ideal for 'ski school slalom'). Red Runs are for those of you that are more advanced and want to hurtle down the mountain faster than your average avalanche and Black Runs… well you either have to be pretty good, pretty stupid or pretty naive. Some of the Black Runs I've come across are both awesome and shit scary at the same time.

'Q' is for Queues

You hate them in the normal world, you'll hate them out here as well. Not only do they take up your precious time whilst waiting to get back up the mountain, but they provide the perfect environment for your inner rage to develop. Especially when it comes to the holiday periods. Try standing in a queue for 15 minutes whilst listening to some ernest shite-bag talking about how they are trying to make sure that Little Timmy gets the best training he can to push forward to the British Ski Team… Yeah? You're from Surrey and Little Timmy has two left feet. Fuck Off.

You'll also develop excellent pole skills. As in, you'll be able to subtly hint to people that you enjoy your personal space and that's not the snow that they're standing on, but your skis. Seriously, people standing on your skis will drive you psychopathic.

'R' is for Reindeer

If the chalet/ apartment you are stopping in doesn't have at least one picture of a reindeer in it, well, the interior designer/ owner isn't doing their job properly.

The more, the better. Preferably not just pictures as well… Statues, heads mounted on the wall, keyrings for the room keys, paintings, prints, door-knockers. In fact, it has been scientifically proven that the greater the amount of reindeer tat in your chalet, the classier it is as an establishment.

How about a picture of a painting of a reindeer...

'S' is for Skiers

Yes, I know this is an obvious and boring slot, but we had one for boarders so it's only fair that we have one for skiers. Plus, y'know, we're cooler.

We started off the whole, “let's go down the mountain strapped to bits of wood” and then continued it from there. Yes, boarders came along and showed us what could be done with the whole mountain and tricks, etc. But then we got smart. We took that attitude and technology and produced big powder, all mountain skiing and then rocked it out in the park. Check out any video with Candide Thovex and you'll see what I mean. If you have time, I thoroughly suggest watching 'Few Words'. Great ski film.

'T' is for Tartiflette

A friend of mine once told me (before I started seasons) about 'Tartiflette Tuesdays'. I think they should be a thing. Like, once a month. Not every week – that'd be far too much, but a monthly thing would probably work.

If you don't know, it's a dish you find in the Alps – potato, cheese, lardons and onions. Great shout for the end of a ski day. Ridiculously fattening if not eaten at the end of a ski day.

'U' is for Uniform

Thought you'd given them up at the end of your school days?! Think again. Issued to you on your first day in the Alps, you'll lose items and gain items in equal amounts. You'll be issued all types of branded clothing for all types of occasions. Seriously, some operators are about one brainstorming, board meeting away from issuing you with company fancy dress.

It won't fit you, will come in some god-awful colours and you'll hate it with a passion. You'll be grateful for it though when you end up trashing it through the course of the season. Thankful that it's not your clothes that you are messing up.

'V' is for Vacuum

Your mum will say you've never seen one and don't know how to operate one. By the end of the season you will be a master of the cleaning machine. You will be able to vacuum a 16 bed chalet in less than 20 minutes. You will have perfected the art of looking like Freddie Mercury when guests come back into the chalet whilst you are mid-clean. You will have developed the advanced technique of furniture lifting with one arm, whilst hoovering under with the other. And, last but by no means least… you still won't have a clue as to how to empty the bastard.

'W' is for White-Out

Possibly the single worst thing to happen on the mountain (aside from being caught in an avalanche). It's the moment when you can't tell the difference between the sky and the mountain. You will end up skiing from piste-marker to piste-marker, slower than you ever thought possible.

However, your delightful brain will play tricks on you. You might be stood still and you'll think that you're still heading down the mountain, or the complete reverse may occur. Your eyes will do some weird, crazy shit and the only way that I can describe it is that it feels like you've opened your eyes when swimming underwater – you get those weird floaty things across your vision and you can't tell detail at all. Horrible.

"Let's going skiing in the clouds...", said nobody, ever.

'X' is for X-Ray

If you end up needing one of these you can be fairly certain that it's the end of your season. They may end up being a bit of a trophy as you show off your broken wrist/ leg/ knee/ back to your colleagues, but it's not a trophy you want.

'Y' is for Yellow Snow

Don't eat it. There, you've been told.

'Z' is for Zorbing

Zorbing + Skiing!!! How has this not been done?! And if it has… where is the video?!

Well there you go.  That's my insightful A-Z of ski seasons.  There are a few notable absences from the list, but a lot of things start with the same letter, so there you go.

Won't be long until the end of the season and the last winter blog to be written, but until that moment...

A-Z of Seasons: Part 1

All of my blog posts so far this season have been rants and moans about anything and everything, so I thought I'd inject some positivity and change it up a little. Apologies in advance if that makes this blog post a little shit.

I thought I'd go for an A-Z of seasons. 26 or so points about living in the mountains for 6 months of the year. At time of writing I've still nothing for 'Z' so 26 might be a little optimistic.

'A' is for Après (and Avalanches)

If you're not hitting après after each and every riding session, then you're doing it wrong. Trust me, there is something special about stumbling home in the small hours, ski boots skill on, skis over your shoulder, knowing that you're going to be in work in a couple of hours.

Do it properly...

Avalanches. We had a saying about them a couple of years back... “There is nothing to fear, but fear itself. That and avalanches!”. Nuff said.

'B' is for Boarders

They reckon they're the coolest on the mountain and they've probably got a point. Most likely to be found chucking themselves off rock faces or over trees. If not, then you'll find them in the pub, telling anybody who'll listen about their latest attempt at a 'proper gnarly backside 540 over the top wind-lip' (trust me, they actually do speak like that). They are also the most likely not to make it through the entire season due to self inflicted injuries.

'C' is for Chairlifts

You have to get on them if you want to get anywhere in resort that doesn't involve a shitty button lift. They start off with some fancy auto-scanner that will pick up your lift-pass and allow you to progress to the next level. Chances are it won't scan it and you'll spend 5 minutes furiously rubbing your pocket against the thing in an attempt to get passage. In the end you'll give up and climb over it.

Then you'll get to stand in the gates waiting for them to open and allow you through to the actual seats. Imagine the start of a horse race, but with bigger men and a distinct lack of horses. Once you've been let through, you will will stand in a position to allow the seats to scoop you up and take you on your journey to the fairy land above the clouds.

If you're lucky, your chairlift will have been built within the past 15 years and it'll be a nice transition between standing and sitting. Chances are you won't be lucky and the thing will come round at the speed of a thousand gazelles and clean out the back of your legs like an old granny whacking you on the back of your legs with her walking stick.

You'll then have a nice pleasant journey up the mountain (unless it's pissing it down with snow and then you'll end up looking like the abominable snowman when you get off the thing.

The bit in the middle can be quite nice...

Then comes the disembarking stage. Rule #1 – DON'T TRUST ANYBODY. Chances are you'll be sat next to a boarder or a learner and their sole reason for existence (in the next 20 seconds) is to clean you out and make sure the lift stops because you've ended up upside down in the safety net.

It happens, folks. Stay safe.

'D' is for Dinner

Dinner will come in one of several formats – leftover food from your dinner service with the guests. Leftover food from kids dinner (usually home homely stuff because, y'know kids don't like fuss). Some form of sandwich or wrap (grated cheese, ham, and lettuce being a personal favourite). Cereal. Or, if you've been on the mountain all day – a chocolate bar on the last lift before hitting après.

'E' is for Earnings

If you are savvy, you will finish the season with the same amount of money as you started it with. Your wages and (if you're lucky enough to get them) tips will cover you, but bare in mind that a pint in the Alps probably costs the same as one in London (even with seasonaire discount) so you're probably better off drinking at home.

Also, cake. Cake is a fantastic way of reducing your expenditure. Take leftover cake into the ski shop and they might knock a bit of your next ski wax. Take it into the bar and they might give you a couple of free shots when you're next on the piss. Take it to your boss and he might let you off that disgusting hangover you rocked into work with yesterday.

'F' is for Fucking

It happens. A lot. In the literal sense (as well being fucked over by the guests and bosses), which is both surprising and not at the same time. On the one hand you have a bunch of 20 something chucked together into a close knit environment for 6 months – what do you expect to happen?! Especially as everybody tends to get fitter over the course of the season. But at the same time, pretty much everybody shares their room with at least one other, has a shitty single bed and works the most unsociable hours known. Turns out people come up with some brilliant solutions to make sure their wanton desires are fulfilled.

'G' is for G.N.A.R

Or the 'Game of G.N.A.R' if you want to be specific. There's a video about it and everything. If you haven't seen it, you can watch it here. Basically it's all about doing the daftest and most ridiculous of things on the mountain, but at the end of the day having fun. And if you want to have a good season – take G.N.A.R to heart!

'H' is for 'Hiking'

If you're serious about your riding, this is what you need to do. Strap your board/ skis to your back, look at the nearest face with lines on (or not, your choice) and decide that the best use of your time for the next couple of hours is to hike up there, exposed to the elements, with a sheer drop on either side and with rapidly thinning air. You'll be blowing out of your arse by the time you get to the drop in and your legs will be screaming at you, but those lines will be the most rewarding of the season... You'll get to the bottom and wonder why you doubted yourself on the hike.

It always looks less when you start off..

Hiking is what truly brings the mountain alive.

'I' is for Ice

Skiers can just about tolerate it, boarders detest it with a passion and both can agree that face planting the piste, because of a bit of ice, hurts like hell. It usually turns up just when you least want it, causes you to pray to a higher deity and then ensures that your board pants turn a nice shade of brown.

It's also the thing that you're most likely to have run out of when somebody comes in and orders 15 fucking gin & tonics.

J is for 'Jumps'

This can range from little ones that you start off with, right through to those huge kickers that you see on the latest ski film. Most of the time if you are going to do a jump you plan it, however they -can occur when riding – especially when off-piste or riding through slush at the end of the season (you will take off more times that you will care for when hitting clumps of slush).

K is for 'Kickers'

No, not those shitty shoes that your parents bought you when you were at primary school, but rather big wedges of snow that your throw yourself off. They range from little ones that you build with a shovel, through to massive kickers that the professionals build with piste-bashers..

Just remember, if you're going to build one yourself, don't put it on a flat landing. That shit'll hurt!!

L is for 'Lifties'

Heroes of the mountain. These are the folks that get up before everybody else, go and blow up the unsafe off-piste, open the lifts and generally make sure everything for the season.

They've also been known to give people lifts back between resorts, in the back of pick-up trucks, in the worst driving conditions, professing that they are in fact Sebastien Loeb, whilst drifting the thing round corners. I can personally vouch for this happening!!

M is for 'Mountains'

This is where you live. For 6 months of the year. What isn't there to like about that?! You're healthier due to living at altitude (though you are likely to negate that with beer, shots and cake), you have one hell of a commute to work and you have a complete playground at your doorstep.

If you ever start feeling homesick, put 'England' on by The National – sounds even better when sat on your balcony watching the world trickle by.

How would you get bored of a view like that?!

That's it for this blog post – Part 2 will be up in a few days time. However, right now there is a party in the Trailer Park that I MUST attend. Plus I figured you wouldn't want to read all 26 in one sitting. That's like having too much of a good thing in one go.

Till next time.

Fantastic Food & Fanatical Fads.

Truth be told, I started writing this blog post a while back, but tiredness and other factors got in the way of writing (House of Cards is seriously addictive). Today, however, I have decided to come back from skiing, forego happy hour and try to complete this post. It also helps that I've finished all the box-sets that I want to watch (for the time being), the weather is howling outside and I've got Gary Clarke Jr. playing the blues through my headphones.

I also feel that I should also issue a grovelling apology to the assembled masses for the wait that they have had to endure since the last post. It's the sort of apology that Jeremy Clarkson should have issued after the 30-odd seconds of sustained violence he dished out because he had to make do with a sandwich, or the sort that I should have been given by my guests last week when their shitty little kid decided to throw up all round the chalet... “Sorry about that”. I mean it's not as sincere as “I'm sorry”, but at least it's a token effort.

Anyway...

I hate people. It's true... I really do. I don't mean my friends, they tend to understand that I don't see them as part of the masses, so they know I don't hate them. No, the people I am talking about are those that you see every day – down the pub, at work, on the commute to work, on the television, on the slopes, in the fucking shops, the list goes on.

I explained this to my boss when I arrived out here. I point blank told him that I didn't like people and considering he'd just hired me on a long-term basis, this was possibly a risky move. Turns out it was spot on. He hates people too.

All of us out here work in the hospitality industry (good way to make a ski season sound shit, I know), but it means that we potentially come into contact with more people than your average joe. Not just in a passing way, but having to look after all of their whims and fancies. And, trust me, there are loads of them.

Now, the company that I work for has made a mistake. It's not a big one and they probably don't know that it exists, but it's a fucking pain in the arse each and every single week. Since we are (supposedly) a high end company, with reindeer tat filled chalets and massive pepper grinders, we politely ask the customers (before they arrive) if they have any dietary requirements. This is so that the chefs can prep and make any necessary adjustments to their menu plan for the upcoming week. Yeah? Fail.

This opens us up to all sorts and completely pisses on the chefs and their meticulously planned menus (coming up with a menu during dinner prep counts as meticulous, right?).

Is that enough fruit for you?!

I understand that there are allergies and intolerances out there, and with such people it is duly noted and catered for. Some of these people are complete idiots though, but that's beside the point. We've definitely had people turn up and let us know just before dinner that they have a severe nut allergy and are likely to swell up to the size of sperm whale if they come within 500m of a peanut. This can 't be helped and it is important that we make sure everything is sorted for them.

No, it's the other lot that I truly hate. Those that are on some fad fucking diet and have an inability to let it slide for a week. YOU'RE ON HOLIDAY, PEOPLE – LET IT GO!!! Each week we get given our manifest on the guests that are arriving the week after. Each week our heart sinks, our heads drop a little and we spend a good couple of days swearing about it to anybody that will listen.

When I talk about fad diets I mean those that come around for a few months, screw with people's kidneys and livers and then fuck off again into the next issue of OK or wherever they come from. I swear those people that request a “gluten free diet” have only developed the fad over the past couple of years and definitely could have a bit of bread or something.. it won't kill them. Obviously Coeliacs are a different case, but y'know that put that down on their requirements – “Coeliac” not “Gluten Free Diet”.

Then there are the sugar free wankers. Yes, I do appreciate that there is a lot of unnecessary sugar in modern life and if we are able to cut it out then that's a good thing, but a week of eating normally isn't going to do that much harm to you.

My favourites though are the fusspots – they've got nothing wrong with them, they just eat a fucking weird diet when they're at home and they expect us to cater for it when they come away. A prime example of this came a couple of weeks ago when we had a family stop with us for the week. Before they arrived we were sent an A4 sheet of paper of their requirements (that's one side of A4 for each member of the family don't you know) and we had quite a laugh at their ridiculous requests. The pick of the bunch was on the list for the kid - “reduced sugar and salt baked beans”, but further down the list was “ice-cream, preferably vanilla”. I shit you not!! Let's think about that for a moment. For starters where are we supposed to get reduced sugar and salt beans – we operate in the fucking mountains and the selection available to us for delivery isn't great. Think Tesco the evening before is shuts for Christmas Day – nothing on the shelves & screaming kids sat in the middle of aisles and you get the picture. But, they go on to say that vanilla ice-cream is okay for their 7 year old shit. HOW MUCH SUGAR DO YOU THINK THERE IS IN ICE-CREAM YOU FUCKTARTS!!

It's this sort of behaviour that fucks me off. The diets make no sense whatsoever. They are just fads and fancies and will be forgotten in a couple of months.

You're not going to forget this apple though...

This is the thing that I ask – rather than letting people dictate what they want, just ask them if they have any allergies or intolerances. That covers those people that would actually have a problem if they came into contact with a certain food, but also lets the rest know that they can fuck off and eat the wonderful food that is being prepared for them.

Maybe I'm weird though... I'll eat anything. Expect Marmite. I fucking hate Marmite.