Not another skiing holiday!

As if I wasn't battered enough after the last one. Sam had a week's holiday to get in and wanted more skiing. He asked all his mates and, finally, in desperation, he asked me. So here I am in Arc 1950 in a ski chalet with Sam, an Irish couple and an Irish chalet host. We got a cheap late deal, which you can do if there's just the two of you and you can be flexible.

I like 1950, I've skied through here a few times while staying with Sam and Lucy at Villaret sur la Rosiere, but I always thought it was really expensive – not so this week, thanks to that deal. We're with SkiBeat which Sam booked through Igloo.

There was, predictably, a late scare with the Jersey weather. This time it was a threatened force 9 gale which would ground all aircraft, so Sam wouldn't be able to fly out. As it happened, the weather was not so violent; he was able to get off (good old EasyJet) and we met at Gatwick on Friday evening, stayed overnight at a hotel by the terminal and made a 4am start for a 6.40am flight.

The flight was on time, but our coach transfer (quite a long one from Lyon) was held up waiting for just a couple of people from Manchester to arrive. Most people on the bus were heading for La Rosiere, so we were dropped off in Bourg-Saint-Maurice and had a taxi to take us up to 1950. We got here around 3pm.

View from our chalet window

There had been a big snowfall on the previous day and it was snowing slightly at 1950. The taxi took us into a massive underground car park below the village. This is a fantastic feat of engineering. The village was built as a one-off development (apparently in the style of Whistler in the US) and it's a real feat. I quite like the place, but of course, it's completely fake. At least it's pretty fake, unlike Arc 2000, 1800, Les Menuires and Val Thorens, which are monstrosities. You can also ski right through the village, which I also like very much. Just imagine being able to ski through Thorney – clip your skis on and cruise to Mo's for your paper or along to school for a meeting.

Our chalet host is an odd mix of earnest and chilled, very keen to be helpful and a very good cook. We thought he'd gone to work in the Alps for the season to forget a girl. We had a fantastic opening three-course dinner and a really high standard all week. For breakfast, he's fond of his porridge, which suits me very well.

There was heavy snow when we went to bed and we woke up to the sound of explosions from the piste workers using TNT to dislodge the snow banks threatening to avalanche. Lots of lifts and runs were closed and we couldn't get across to 1800 or 1600, so we were restricted to 1950 and 2000. Up in the bowl, it was quite hard to see – pretty much a white out – and the runs further down, with more trees about, were better, but have a really slow lift feeding them. I have never skied in deep powder before and it was different. It would have been better if it hadn't been so busy; lots of people were on the fewer runs open for business and there were lots of ski schools and lots of kids.

I did have one fall. No injuries, but it was spectacular. In the white blur, I missed the edge of the piste and shot off-piste into about three feet of soft powder. It was a nice comfortable landing, but I spent an awkward minute stuck on my back like a beetle kicking my legs. Luckily, my skis had stayed on, so I was able to get myself pointing in the right direction, then upright, then ski through the soft snow back onto the piste. I'd had enough after a couple of hours, so Sam went off to do some other runs (he's quite patient, but it's not much fun for him pootling around on blues). I had a chillax and then went to the spa, which is part of our deal, and had an open-air swim, sauna and steam room. The pool was fairly warm, but you did have to walk through snow in your bare feet to get in, so anything might have felt warm after that.

Rob cooked up another three-course meal in the evening (chicken in cream sauce for the main). I’d bought a bottle of Genépé and introduced Justin and Lizzie (an Irish couple and the other guests in the chalet) to it. We polished off the best part of a bottle of Genépé between us.

On Monday I decided to ski in the afternoon. Lifts were not open when Sam went out so he got the bus down to Arc 1600 and met three chaps who were from Knutsford on their annual ski holiday. He showed them the runs around 1600 and they offered to buy him dinner, but he had to come back to meet me. One of them goes to Jersey for his holidays each year and so Sam might get a bit of business out of him if he's taken ill while over there.

I was skiing like a plonker in the afternoon and had a few tumbles, but no pain. In the end, I found a nice gentle and quiet blue above 2000 called Marais; it was as good as Gollet. Sam let me do it twice, but then we had to do something a little more testing so we skied down Vallee de l'Arc to check out a restaurant that we might use for dinner on Wednesday night (Rob's night off). The run was really, really busy and, near the bottom, we ran into cloud, so you couldn't see more than 50 metres. The restaurant is only open in the afternoon and it wasn't open that afternoon, so despite our efforts, we'd have to find somewhere in 1950 for dinner.

I'd had enough skiing, so I caught the bus back up to 1950 and Sam went on a late tour above 1600 and 1800. He almost missed the last lift back.

On Tuesday, I was out good and early to ski across to Vallandry, which we did via Plan Bois, Foret (an old favourite) and Grizzly. We then took the Grizzly lift and skied down Foret (past the top of the infamous Renard) to 1800. Sam wondered if I'd like to do Renard as I was now a more experienced skier than my previous two attempts. I took the stance that Holly uses when she doesn't want a wash, I dug my front paws in and arched my back. The runs were getting busier and busier. It's the first of Paris ski fortnight, so just about the worst combination you could wish for – lots of people and lots of rude Parisians. Most of the locals don't like them, despite all the money they bring in – it makes you wonder what they say about us when we're gone.

The route from 1800 to 1600 is simple enough – Gollet all the way – but Sam took us up Vagere lift and then claimed he didn't know how to get to Gollet. I quite enjoyed the route we took (Arpette 1) which was a favourite of ski schools. After a drink in 1600, Sam went off to ski in La Plagne via the Vanoise Express and I caught the bus back to 1950. It was snowing when I arrived and it's been snowing steadily since. More snow is predicted for Wednesday.

Wednesday was a grey old day and we went across to ski above 1600 because the visibility was so poor. I was skiing like a novice, leaning back, I kept trying to snowplough and coming off the top of the Comborciere lift down the little ski road I couldn't do a skid stop at the end and went flying past Sam to stop 15 yards further on. I think he felt sorry for me because he said I could do Gollet. I said “OK, just for old time's sake.” Actually, Gollet was quite uneven and Sam almost fell over – what an embarrassment that would have been. We took the lift back up and I said I'd do Gollet again and then stop for the day as it was snowing hard. Sam came with me to do the black (see below for his evil plan) and Gollet was much easier this time as a couple of inches of powder snow had fallen. I said I'd get the bus back up to 1950 and Sam shot off to ski on his own for a bit. On the way down, I missed the edge of the piste and fell over. It was quite flat and I couldn't get up and struggled for a couple of minutes before I gave up and took off a ski.

Sam called later in the afternoon to say he'd finished and was going for a drink in 2000, so I got the bubble lift up to join him. He was in the restaurant just at the entrance to the village and when I got there he had a glass of Chablis and a dozen oysters – still a GTC – although he did give me a couple oysters and they were rather good. In the evening, it was the chalet host's night off so we went to La Vache Rouge restaurant for dinner. The exterior looks a little odd (there's a full-size model of a cow, painted red, for a start) but it's very good. We both had fillet steak with chips, followed by a local cheeseboard.

On Thursday, conditions were perfect, about as good as it gets, so we were out reasonably early, but so was everyone else; the lifts were really busy below 1950, so we skied down to Comborciere. We were almost the first people to ski the piste (Vallee de l'Arc). It's a nice run, but has been so busy at times this week that it's been a nightmare. Anyway, we went up the slow Comborciere and then down the ski road past Mont Blanc onto Belvedere. I was really concentrating hard on body position and kept control all the way down, even when someone had fallen in front and the ski instructor was taking up almost all the piste pulling them up. We went down to Arpette lift which takes you up onto a ridge where you can ski round back into the bowl above Arc 2000 and take a couple of nice blues back to the lifts. We did both Edelweiss and Plan. I remember Edelweiss from my ski-school days. It's a good run on which to practise your parallel turns and it was pretty quiet. We took the lift back onto the ridge and pootled about on the blues above 1800 and Vallandry before working back via Grizzly and Derby to the mid-station of the Trans Arc bubble. We finished the day with a run down Col de Chal and Vallee de l'Arc 2 and then down into 1950 to finish. I'd skied about 26 miles and it was the best I've skied this year, so I was very pleased with myself.

On Friday, I took the bus and the funicular down to Bourg-Saint-Maurice. It was sunny at 1950, but misty and freezing in the bottom of the valley. Nice to see Bourg again and also visit some favourite shops for mugs and Christmas tree ornaments. It was not nice to see the development going on in front of the church and war memorial. This was where the market was held, but now it's a huge hole and building site where they're putting up a development of apartments up to five storeys. It will spoil the aspect from the church and the little square that once existed.

Massive development in from of the church in Bourg-Saint-Maurice

There was some drama later in the day when the host of the SkiBeat chalet opposite, burned his hand cleaning the oven. He had to be treated in Vallandry and a reserve host (a lady, who looked to be about 45) skied in at a few hours notice to look after the guests. Our chalet host helped as much as he could, telling her where things are and lending missing implements, but she looked very capable. I wonder how a woman of that age comes to be doing chalet hosting. There must be a back story.

Our chalet host had recommended an app called Yuge at the start of the holiday; it's a ski app which will track how far you've skied during the day, average speed, top speed and descent. Sam put it on his phone and tried it the first day. It told him he was 150-something out of 600 users and Sam immediately set a goal to reach the top 10. Halfway through the week, I asked him if he didn't mind skiing all these boring old blues with me. He said he didn't, but it turns out that Yuge gives you points for skiing new runs. He even wanted to ski Gollet once to cross it off and again, so he could do the little black link. One day, he clocked up over 60 miles skiing and on the last day, he wanted to ski the Aguille Rouge from top to Villaroger in order to get a virtual badge. He clocked 87 kph on the run down – much too fast, said I.

Setting sun on Mont Blanc - lovely

On our last day, we went out about 5.30pm for a wander around the village and final drink. The sun was just setting on Mont Blanc and we had a nice view of Monty. What a magnificent sight.

It was a great holiday, nice to spend some time with Sam and I like the runs around Les Arc (there are so many). Arc 1950 is great, our chalet was good and SkiBeat did all they said they would. The transfer was a little long (to Lyon), but worked out OK. We were there for 3.30pm and I got home about the same time. I really like Aer Lingus (the carrier), who did a great job and even fed us a snack and free drink. I think I've got used to EastJet, so a wrap and a coke seemed like the good old days.

I might be getting a little old for this skiing lark

Just back from our skiing holiday in Saint-Martin-de-Belleville in the Three Valleys. It's a pretty village, transformed into a winter wonderland by fresh snowfall in the three days leading up to our holiday week, and we had a fantastic ski lodge, basically the penthouse apartment of a three-storey block just yards from the bottom of the cable car.

The holiday wasn't without its problems. For Sam, it was a nightmare journey of cancelled ferries, hastily arranged flights, hire cars and snow chains. For me it was a series of painful crashes that meant I came back from holiday with a few bruises and stiff limbs. Perhaps I am getting too old (or too unfit) for skiing?

The first problem was that Condor Ferries cancelled the Friday night sailing from St Helier to St Malo – the high wind and resultant sea conditions meant it was too extreme for the catamaran ferry that they run. The next sailing would be Sunday, which meant Sam would miss two days of his holiday. He cancelled the ferry, booked a flight to Geneva and hired a car for the week.

Condor seem a pretty useless bunch. The ferry from the UK was cancelled numerous times during the summer (mainly due to engine problems) and they really need to get some boats that are reliable and can cope with a bit of rough weather. After hearing of this, we were ready for a rough ride across the Channel on Saturday morning, but it was as smooth as silk. I know P&O run bigger ships with stabilisers, but even so ...

Our drive was 170 miles to Dover and then 600 miles in France. We do the autoroutes, which are fast but expensive, and we can do it in under nine hours with two stops. The BMW, for all its faults, is a great car for gobbling up the miles. You can set the cruise control at 80mph and it will cover 600 miles before it needs filling up.

The weather forecast said it would snow heavily the week before we were due, but Saturday would be sunny. It was actually snowing quite heavily in northern France and again just after Dijon, but we made good time until we came to the small road up the valley to Saint-Martin from Moutiers. Sam, who was a little ahead of us, had warned that he'd had to stop to put on his snow chains and lots of cars were struggling on the snow-covered, steep road. I was doing fine and I guessed that the cars pulled up at the side of the road fitting chains and snow socks were running standard tyres. There was a bus in front of me that was running without chains and I guessed my winter tyres would grip for longer than his. Margaret was very keen for me to stop and fit the snow socks, but my traction control hadn't kicked in once, so I was getting good grip. The biggest problem was traffic and those with chains on that were limited to 20mph. Once we reached Saint-Martin, we turned off the road and drove up through the village, where the snow was much thicker, but made it very picturesque. The BMW was fine; if everyone fitted winter tyres, we'd had few problems in the UK.

The chalet (Le Cochet) had underground parking where it was about -3C and -15C outside. There was a lift up to the third floor and we had three rooms en-suite, a mezzanine with other beds and a large kitchen, dining room and lounge – all open-plan.

Sam's hire car had standard tyres and snow chains for emergency. He'd had to fit them half-way up the hill from Moutiers and had a real struggle to get them on. His hands were freezing and he was glad that another chap had given him a hand.

On Sunday, Sam was out early to get the ski passes and then we set up the skis in the garage (I'd slackened the springs on the bindings during storage and they needed re-setting. I was using Lucy's old Rossignol skis and they needed adjusting for my bigger boot size.

On the ridge above Saint-Martin - that's Mont Blanc next to Sam

Saint-Martin is served by a gondola, which you can take up and enjoy a fairly easy blue down. There's just one run down into the village, but from the top of the gondola, you can take a chair lift which offers a blue/red back down to the top of the gondola or a run into Les Menuires (the next resort up the valley). If you take a third lift, you reach the ridge and can ski down into Meribel in the next valley or further up our valley to Val Thorens.

We got the gondola and I skied the blue down to get used to the skis. It was a bit steep (for me) in places but lovely fresh snow, really good conditions – cold, but beautifully sunny. Next we got the gondola back up, then the chair-lift (St Martin Express), then another chair lift (Granges). On way down a blue run called Grand Lac (which is very steep) I had a crash, caught an edge and face planted. I got bashed on the face, my goggles pushed the contact lens out of my right eye, I cut my nose and bashed my shoulder and arm. With Sam's help, I was able to fish out the contact lens from my lower lid and ski gingerly down with one eye shut. I had another crash on hard ice at the bottom and bashed my hip. I looked a bit of a mess, so called it a day for skiing and had a wander around town, found the supermarket and shops, plus a Huit a 8. I got some provisions and some sympathy from the lady in the supermarket.

Ouch! Feeling pretty sore.

On the second day, there was no way I'd get a contact lens into my right eye, which was half shut, so I got the cable car up and tried a test ski with goggles and insert. I'd tried this before and hadn't liked it, but this time it seemed OK. It took me a while to get my act together (and one small fall), but then we went up the second lift and skied across to Le Menuires via Gros Tougne, La Violette and Bettex. Les Menuires is not as pretty as Saint-Martin but you can ski both sides of the valley and there are lots of runs and lifts. It has a couple of the steepest greens I've ever seen. If I was in ski school trying to snowplough down those I would have been bricking it!

In the evening, we needed some provisions that we weren't able to get in Saint-Martin, so Sam and I went to the supermarket in Moutiers. It was bitter cold and freezing, but the road down was much better than Saturday night and there was no problem with grip. Moutiers is not an attractive town; it sits deep in a valley so that it always seems to be in the shade (certainly so in winter) and the town is dominated by its main road. Sam sort-of remembered where the supermarket was and we found it quite easily. It was as drab and cold as the rest of the town, but it had cheap bottled beer, boxes of wine, some other healthier provisions and logs for the fire. As we were walking around, I kept hearing a tweeting, like birds. Then I saw a small house sparrow hopping around the aisles. I thought he'd come in and become trapped, but then there was more tweeting and I spotted a whole flock of them. I guess they live in the supermarket and in cold, inhospitable Moutiers, it makes a lot of sense.

On the third day, we decided to ski the other side of the valley at Les Menuires. I felt a bit stiff from my fall on the first day and wasn't skiing well. We planned to reach the Pointe de la Masse at 2800m and took Masse 1 cable car and then skied down Vallons to Masse 2, but it was very busy and we bailed out to go back to Les Menuires. There was a steep blue (Les Enverses) and the snow was quite banked and uncompacted. I took another sharp fall and cracked my left arm, broke my goggles and lost my inserts. This one really hurt and I thought I'd broken my upper arm. I was quite looking forward to a ride down in the the Mountain Rescue Ski-Doo, but then I came to my senses, the pain cleared and I realised I wasn't in for a free ride. My goggles strap had snapped open, my inserts were gone and so it was with blurred eyes that I managed to get down to Les Menuires for a hot chocolate (medicinal). I wasn't up for skiing back and so I took the bus back to Saint-Martin with my tail between my legs.

I don't know why I'm skiing so badly this year. It's two years since I skied and I have new skis, but I suspect the problem is my age, but mainly my weight and lack of fitness. I have put on half a stone in weight over Christmas and I'm now 15st 6lbs (216lbs). Before next year, I need to cycle, ski and skip. If I was two stones lighter, I'd bounce better. As it is, I'm feeling pretty sore!

Arthur's first taste of apres ski

When I got home, Margaret, Arthur and I had a walk around town, popped into the supermarket for bread and sympathy from the nice French lady and then went for apres ski at Dahlia cafe. This was Arthur's first apres ski, but no gluhwein for him. He was very happy to have a look around though.

The next day, I felt so beaten up and sore that I stayed in the chalet with Margaret and Arthur. It was nice to spend time with them and see some more of Arthur. Margaret has been playing the part of chalet maid and (on account of the cold and snow) hasn't been out of the chalet apart from with me. She has been enjoying her time with Arthur and, despite having a cold and cough, he is a very accommodating child, happy and content to play on his own for a while with his toys. He can sit up and roll over, also crawl on his hands and knees, but prefers to have things brought to him. To wave, he clenches and unclenches his fist or rolls his fingers and this is also an indication that he's about to do something “naughty” like crawl over and play with the logs. Margaret has been teaching him to throw a ball, which is a game he loves, but now he throws anything he has in his hand. She may have created some trouble!

It was Sam's birthday and I don't think he's entirely happy being 34. They skied across to Courchevel in the morning to do a run called 'Indiens' which is Lucy's favourite and were back for lunch at 1.30 with Margaret, Arthur and me. That's pretty good going as Courchevel is the furthest of the three valleys, so it's a lot of lifts and runs. Lucy was pretty pooped, but we ate at L'Alp restaurant – nice, but with the most minimal menu I've ever seen. You could have burger or plat de jour and one choice of pudding. I had plat de jour (Chinese chicken and noodles) and it was good but not in the Savoyard tradition. Arthur was getting a bit fractious by the end so we took him home and then Margaret and I went down into town, did some souvenir shopping, ordered a rotisserie chicken for dinner and got another bag of logs (the fire uses a lot of logs!).

On Thursday, I still felt too beaten about to fancy skiing. I really worried about falling again. Sam and Lucy went out in the morning and had tried to ski along to Val Thorens, but the first piste had been rough with lots of moguls and they'd decided it was no fun. After skiing in Les Menuires, they'd headed home after lunch. I went out in the afternoon for a ski on some blues above Saint-Martin and then we skied across to Les Menuires (down those scary greens) and had a beer in the sun. Sam skied back, but I was happy not to have fallen, so I hopped in the free ski bus.

It's amazing how quickly the week goes by. It's our last day and we decided to drive up to Val Thorens and ski there for the day. At 2400m, Val Thorens is 1000m higher than Saint-Martin and it was much colder when out of the sun. The snow is thicker, but has been blown off the higher points, so off-piste skiing is still not really practicable. We had a good morning's skiing, but I kept to very easy slopes and then we stopped for lunch. In the afternoon, the wind had really picked up and had blown soft powder snow over the pistes. It was bitter cold. Sam and Lucy had decided to ski back as it was the last day and I drove down happy to have had two days without crashing.

Getting home is always a slog. For Sam and Lucy and Arthur, it was a very early start to get back to Geneva, drop off the hire car and catch a 12.30pm flight back to Jersey. We set off about 7am. It was cold – as low as -15C after Albertville and a little foggy. But we made good time and once the sun was up it was a lovely day (although it remained below freezing pretty much the whole journey). We caught an earlier ferry (which was full of rough Scots on a coach home and Romanians heading for work in the UK). We got home at 9.30pm, so a pretty good run all in all.

Ski holiday day 9: homeward bound

Normally we've set off at 5am or 6am to try to get a tea-time ferry from Calais. This year, we had to drop Sam and Lucy at Chambery Airport where they were catching a flight back to Southampton and, from there, to Jersey. They were expecting to be back in about 7pm.

It meant our journey home would start until around 8am, so a little later than normal. After last night's snowfall, there was a good four or five inches on the road and it was very cold. The snow plough had been up the main road to the resort already.

It was very cold, but not icy. I went down and cleared the snow off the car and then drove up the hill to the road that leads to the back of the chalet. I got up the hill easily, the winter tyres offer really good grip in snow like this and the traction control didn't cut in at all). Once up the hill, I backed up to the steps above the chalet so we could load up. It was quite a squeeze.

Sam drove to Chambery and we were there for 10am (their flight left at noon).

For Margaret and I, it was the long 500-mile drive to Calais. It's best not to look at the miles coming down for at least a couple of hours, but it was actually a really good journey and we did it in seven-and-a-half hours with one stop to refuel.

We had a flexible ticket for the P&O ferry and we managed to get on a 6.15pm crossing instead of 8pm. We were home at just after 10pm (with an hour gained for CET switch to GMT).

It's always nice to be home after such a long journey, although the house does seem empty without Holly. We had to wait until 10am before we could pick her up from kennels. As always, she was overjoyed to see me and didn't stop wagging her tail all day. I don't think she's unhappy in kennels; often she'll be outside playing with other dogs and this time she was loose inside the kennels walking round with the kennelmaid as she did her jobs. It has clearly been a cold and wet week at home because Holly was filthy. First job was a bath.

Ski holiday day 8: our last day and the perfect ending

For me, it's always a bit of a worry on the last day of your ski holiday that this is the day (just before a long drive home) that you fall and hurt yourself. Better to do it on the last day, rather than the first perhaps, but it's almost as if I've been tempting fate all week and this is the day I say hello to Mr Tree.

I'm never worried about hurting myself, the big worry is getting home. Margaret would be concerned about my theoretical broken leg, of course, but might be more worried about Holly getting out of kennels on time and having to drive in France, on the wrong side of the road, for 700 miles.

Of course, there was no last-minute injury (not even a fall). Saturday is change-over day for most people, so we stayed out of the busy Tarentaise tail-backs and spent the day in a Sainte-Foy that was even quieter than usual.

The snow was wonderful and it was very cold, but also sunny, so the top slopes were a real treat.

Lucy, who would make an excellent spy or journalist, had been eavesdropping on a conversation about the cafe/bar on the Grand Soliet run just above the Marquise lift. Apparently, it had been a disaster and all the staff had been fired except Barbie. They couldn't fire Barbie because she was something of a Sainte-Foy legend. Barbie was still working at Les Marquises and Sam was very keen to see whether she deserved her nickname.

Cold, but sunny on the terrace at La Marquise. We really
need a proper selfie stick.

So, after skiing the top run a few times (I stayed on the Grand Soliet, but Sam and Lucy went off to do some harder runs) we met up at Les Marquises. I'd been given some late skiing tips from Sam and Lucy (my two coaches) - mainly involving getting my hips further forward, always facing down the mountain and practising my hoppy turns. I find that it all works very well for a little while, then I either lose concentration or the slope gets a bit steeper and I revert to leaning back and skiddy turns. Anyway, it was a great morning and the balcony at Les Marquises (which I think means either "high windows" or "the penthouse") was in the morning sun.

Barbie was a charming, very attractive, middle-aged Frenchwoman and deserves a kinder nickname and Les Marquises is a great place to stop for elevenses. While we were there a Frenchwoman arrived on snowshoes having walked up from Sainte-Foy accompanied by a small Jack Russell terrier, who was very shivery and would have preferred to sit inside.

We skied a little more after our break and then met Margaret for lunch in the Piano Bar. They do nice snacks, but everything is served in polystyrene packaging (like a fast-food outlet) and the cutlery is also plastic. It's not good for the environment and trying to eat a crispy croque monsieur with a plastic fork is a recipe for fork breakage (best to use your fingers). Sam and I skied a little more after lunch, then I called it a day and left Sam to it for another hour.

I've really, really enjoyed my skiing this holiday. The snow has been great and we have managed to miss French holiday weeks. I'd go to Sainte-Foy again. I wouldn't want to ski there every day, but if you have a car, it's very easy to get to Tignes, La Rosiere, Les Arcs or La Plagne. Even one of the Three Valleys resorts are close enough for a day trip. It’s also been lovely to spend some time with Sam and Lucy. Their home will be in Jersey now, so we will have to get used to seeing them maybe three or four times a year. I was rather spoiled when they lived in London and I worked in London.

The rest of the day should have been about packing and other dull tasks, but at about 4pm it started snowing and soon everywhere was blanketed. After packing, I suggested a walk in the snow, so Sam, Lucy and I headed out like excited children. Margaret had not slept well for a couple of nights and was not feeling that good, so we left her and headed up into the village.

Sam and Lucy in the snow.

Cars were arriving in the resort and several of them (probably English people without winter tyres and snow-socks) were struggling to get up the hill. The BMW was already covered by an inch or two of snow. I'd put the skis in the rack already and they were buried too. I do have winter tyres, and my journey would be downhill, so I wasn’t too worried about getting on the road next morning.

It was very pretty in the village, some children were sledging on the nursery piste and they had the snow blowers working at the bottom of the slope and where you turn for the first lift. With real and artificial snow, there was a real depth building up.

I wish I was skiing tomorrow rather than a 15-hour journey back to the flat fens.

Ski holiday day 7: raclette for dinner

When we got into our chalet last Sunday, we had a good look around to see what equipment was in there. Lo and behold, in the kitchen cupboard was a raclette grill, so a big chunk of raclette cheese was written on the list for the Super U shop on Monday (and subsequently bought).

All week the daily question has been: is it raclette night tonight?

That is one big piece of cheese.

We might have done it a couple of days ago, but the cheese overdose of the La Bergerie pizzas stumped us, but we're running out of days and tonight was the night.

I don't think the grill had been used and there was one of those why-didn't-we moments when Sam said perhaps we should have checked that it worked before we bought the cheese; but it did work and there was considerable excitement as we settled down to Morteau sausage, gherkins, potatoes and salad - and cheese, of course.

The grill actually worked really well. When we stayed in Val Thorens, our whole chalet went out one night and we were seated at a round restaurant table with hardly any room. Four of us ordered raclette and you've never seen a table more crammed with food and accoutrements. What was worse were the wires trailing across the table (only just long enough to reach) and the red hot grills pouring out molten cheese in the middle. It has to rank as one of the most stressful, dangerous meals I've ever had. In the end, we turned off the grills and removed the burn risk; we were all lovely and warm on a cold night though.

Who ate all the cheese? Note the expert scraping technique.

No such problems with our Sainte-Foy raclette, we had lots of room and there was no need to trial wires across the table. It was Margaret's first raclette and she took to it like a duck to water, probably eating the most cheese, followed by Lucy, then Sam and me. As the responsible adult, I was positioned next to the grill and had to scrape (or supervise the scraping) of the cheese. Thanks to my care and attention, no-one suffered cheese burns and there was minimal drippage.

As for the skiing, I stayed in St Foy today, while Sam and Lucy went to Val D'Isere and had a great day. The best thing about Sainte-Foy (apart from the pretty village) is its location. It's easy to get to lots of other places - Les Arc, La Plagne, La Rosiere (Italy) and Tignes/Val D'Isere.

There was nice snow in Sainte-Foy, it had been quite cold overnight and was a little icy first thing, but the sun came up early and it was nice and quiet. I spent the morning skiing the blues and then broke for lunch with Margaret. We had a walk around the village in the afternoon.

Ski holiday day 6: my first half-pipe - ouch!

Today, went across to La Plagne for the day. It's only about 45 minutes drive and I've been before with Sam and Lucy. You can buy your tickets at a station when you turn off the main road and then drive up to the resort. The chatty lady at the ticket office told me I should park in Plagne Montalbert, but that's quite low down and we were worried that the snow cover might be a little thin down there so we carried on to Plagne Centre at 1970m, where we can park free of charge just at the bottom of the Bergerie lift.

La Plagne is a confusing collection of resorts, but they are well connected by runs and lifts and you just need to get your head around the whole place. I am gradually getting it properly compartmentalised in my head, but this is my third visit, so it's about time. La Plagne is on a bigger scale than Les Arcs and I think the key difference is that you can often see one resort from the other, which makes it harder for me to know where one stops and the other starts. Like many ski resorts, there's a difference between the resorts and this is mainly down to when they were developed. The more recent projects are much nicer, presumably because the developers have aimed for a more upmarket clientele, but also perhaps because planning regulations have caught up with the monstrosities being built on the side of beautiful mountains.

As you drive up the mountain, there's one particular monstrosity up on the right. I think it's called Plagne Aime 2000 and basically it's one massive hotel complex. When Sam and Lucy first saw it they thought it was being built and the building was covered with scaffolding, but no, those are the balconies. It must be seven or eight storeys high and I'd like to think that no-one would build anything like that nowadays.

Compared to Sainte-Foy, the skiing is much more varied and there are many, many more runs, but it is a lot busier and not as pretty. Snowboards are very much in the minority in Sainte-Foy, but here they often seem to be dominant. I should make it clear that I don't really have a big issue with snowboards; they can be a nuisance, but then so can other skiers.

There was quite a long queue for the Bergerie lift (the first time we'd seen a queue this holiday, so we took a smaller lift into Plagne Centre.

We took a couple of lifts up with the idea of doing some long runs down through the trees, but these were closed so, instead, we worked our way across the resort towards Plagne Bellecote, but coming down the final blue into the resort, we took an off-piste diversion to try a half pipe. This is like an open spout and the way to ski it is to run up the side until you lose speed, then turn quickly, run down the steep bit, gathering speed again until you slow down at the other side - repeat until finished.

I was skiing it reasonably well, but then got a bit fast, stopped concentrating and had a backwards crash. I bashed my head quite hard, so hard that I was surprised by the force (normally ski falls - and I've had a few - are comic and painless, but this one whacked me good and hard) My first thought was that it was a good job I was wearing a helmet. A quick shout here for the excellent RX Sport, which has provided varifocal prescription lenses for my Oakley semi-wraps (one of the few companies able to do this) and also provided Bolle goggles (with prescription inserts) and Bolle helmet (which was thoroughly tested.

Sam treats me like a toddler when I have a fall. Before I can start crying and feeling sorry for myself, he tells me I'm fine and skis off.  He was trying the same trick here and was at the bottom of the slope and queuing for the Arpette lift before I'd caught up. I thought I was OK, but I wasn't sure; I think I was just shocked by the force of the blow and it's a long time since I hit my head that hard so I had no calibration. Anyway, I told Lucy I was going for a sit down and a hot drink, so we all ended up having an early lunch and a couple of drinks in Plagne Bellecote.

Fantastic views from the top near Roche de Mio

The plan was that Sam and Lucy were going to ski some blacks they had missed last year down towards Montchavin while I did a long blue called Mont Blanc (there's a Mont Blanc in every resort around here) which I did last year, but when we saw the map of open routes after lunch, they were almost all closed due to lack of snow. Mont Blanc was open as it's the run down to the fast cable car between La Plagne and Les Arcs (the Vanoise Express). Once that's closed there's no link between the resorts and no Paradiski. The snow cover is poor this year and I guess those blacks are just a little too low. Mont Blanc will be open with artificial snow from the blowers running every available night.

We were now on Plan C and so we took the cable car up to Roche De Mio at 2700m, where there's a good view of Courchevel in the Three Valleys on the way up. The views from the top are fantastic and we skied down via Le Tunnel through Belle Plagne, where my friend Chris goes skiing each Easter, and up the Colosses lift to make our way to Plagne Centre.

Ski essentials - helmet, lemon tea and a Ricard. That's
ugly Plagne Centre in the background.

Sadly, the howling wolf noises and projections of bats on the wall of the tunnel seem to have been dropped in favour of stars. It's not quite the same! I left Sam and Lucy at the top of Colosses so they could try some routes they hadn't done before and I headed back down the mountain to the bottom of Bergerie (my reference point). I skied a few of the blues from Bergerie back down to  Plagne Centre where it's fun to ski through an arch in the big hotel complex on a green back to the base of Bergerie. I bumped into Sam and Lucy there. They hadn't wanted much time and the skiing had been quite icy and scary for them.

Lesson for today - leave half-pipes for the kids on snowboards.

Ski holiday day 4: over the border into Italy

Today we went to La Rosiere, the next-door resort to Sainte-Foy, and skied down into Italy to La Thuile.

La Rosiere is on the Petit Col de St Bernard, which is closed due to snow for five or six months of the year and the resort actually represents the highest point you can reach by car in winter. It's a hard road of switchback turns even to get that far. Incredible to think that this was the route Hannibal took to attack Rome during the Punic wars. How on earth he got his elephants over what must have been little more than a sheep track beggars belief.

From La Rosiere, there are a couple of long lifts up towards the ridge of the mountain, which also represents the border between France and Italy. We'd got a pass covering both La Rosiere (French side) and La Thuile (Italian side) so we could ski right down. There were a couple of red runs involved, but Lucy said I'd manage those quite easily and, anyway, it was time Sam stopped mollycoddling me! She’s a hard taskmaster!

The wind was whistling in our faces on the lift, then the cloud closed in and it started snowing. We reached the top, where there is an old fort - one of many in this part of the Alps, built in the 19th century to command the mountain passes. It must have been a cold, miserable place to be posted in winter. I don't think any of them saw action and, by the turn of the 20th century, they were  made redundant by superior artillery. Instead of impregnable bastions, they became juicy targets.

La Thuile from the top of the cable car. Pic by Lucy

Anyway, we could barely see the fort in the skidding cloud and snow and then we had a long, cold drag lift to suffer before we could start to ski down.

Visibility was pretty poor and the piste was covered with powder snow in places, which made the edge harder to spot, but ice in other parts where the wind had blown the snow off.

Last year, I tried a couple of different things to see in the snow. My prescription sunglasses work quite well when it's bright and sunny and I had goggles with prescription inserts as well. However, I can't get on with those at all - the effect is like looking through binoculars and it really unsettles my balance because I don't have any peripheral vision.

This year, I have the sunglasses and have also brought contact lenses to use with my goggles. I'll also carry the old prescription inserts to use as reading glasses, so I can read a piste map if need be.

Today, I thought it would be sunny, so I was wearing sunglasses, which definitely weren't needed. Having said that, the runs were not too difficult, but I did ski off one piste when I failed to spot the piste marker pole and went off into the soft snow at the side  and almost buried myself. I had to take a ski off and pretty much roll back onto the piste. Lucy had gone off ahead and the plan was to meet her in La Thuile by skiing the red run which follows the road. In the summer it is the Petit Col St Bernard; in the winter, it's covered in snow and is a ski run. It's quite amusing to ski past the road signs and round the hairpin bends.

We were making progress down the mountain when we were brought to a stop by the piste being closed. We've no idea why - perhaps the snow cover was too thin or there was a risk of avalanche; maybe it was too windy.

Fortunately, there was a cafe right by where we were halted, so we popped in there for a hot chocolate. It was definitely Italy because they were not speaking French. It was a fantastic hot chocolate and one English woman was so happy in the place, she refused to go out into the cold. She said she'd stay there until her husband had finished skiing.

The closed piste gave us a bit of a problem. Sam scratched his head for a while and then we headed up a chairlift onto the Italian slope of the mountain into the ski area above the village of La Thuile. Here the weather was brighter and I enjoyed skiing down to the top of the cable car that comes up from the village. The Italian Special Olympics team were practising in La Thuile and there were lots of handicapped people skiing about.

I think some of them may have been at the "improver" stage because they weren't that good. Others were doing really well (by which I mean much better than me).

We'd just missed Lucy and Sam set off to try to catch her up on the long black down to the village. I sat in the watery sun by the cable car to wait for them. They actually weren't too long; it's surprising how much distance even a poor skier like me can cover. Sam and Lucy can go for miles and miles and do it double quick.

The piste board didn't make great reading. The lift we had planned to take back was closed and so were quite a few more, so we had to try a circuitous route of reds, blues and lifts to get back to La Rosiere. Sam was a bit worried that we might be stuck in Italy overnight and, as he and Lucy had left their passports back in Sainte-Foy, it would have been up to me to book a hotel room and smuggle them in.

It was good to eventually see La Rosiere back in view. The long, wide piste we'd seen from the first chairlift seemed very, very long, but it wasn't hard. I was absolutely pooped (in a good way) and was pleased to have a Ricard and lemon tea in the bar next to the St Bernard Hotel. There were terrific views of the Tarentaise valley on the way down - you could see Arc 2000 with its ugly hotels in the bowl and Arc 1950 just below it, but hardly visible as the buildings blended in so much better. Bourg-saint-Maurice was to your right and, up the valley was Sainte-Foy, Tignes and Val D'Isere.

The sun had come through the clouds and was making superb colours to the south-west as it was setting. I tried to take a picture of it, but all I got was a Renault Clio as we entered yet another hairpin bend.

Looking up the Tarentaise valley towards Tignes and Val D'Isere.

Ski holiday day 3: are those my edges that I can feel?

Our first day skiing in St Foy and it was a pleasant day, a little cloudy and snowing lightly at the top, but the snow was really nice and some fresh snow had fallen overnight.

Sam says the snow cover is very thin and they need lots more snow if they're going to get through the season. He can see off-piste areas that he and Lucy skied last year where this year you can see rocks which were completely covered in 2014.

I don't have those worries as I'm staying on the piste. There are just four lifts in Sainte-Foy and as one of them leads to some reds and a piste nature, I'm limiting myself to just three. The blue down from the top lift is a lovely run, fairly steep in the very top section, but good and wide, it then levels out, steepens, levels out and steepens again. It's a really nice run for someone of my level to do.

With Sam's coaching, I found that I'm starting to carve properly and my turns are getting smoother and more controlled. I can actually feel the edges getting engaged on the downhill ski and I'm learning to bend my hip into the slope to make the edge bite and avoid skids. It is a good feeling, although when the slope gets steep, I still find that my turns are not quick enough and I have to carve quite long turns in order to control speed. What's good is that I can stop and I have got the skid stop fairly well nailed, which gives me quite a bit of confidence.

What's more I've been skiing for two days and not fallen over. I've also discovered a new run called Plan Bois, a gentle blue which takes you from the top of lift one back to base via a gently graded ski road through the wooded side of the mountain. We walked part of it on snow-shoes last year when we went to La Monal. Lucy, who has new off-piste skis, despairs at my ability to find a 'Gollet' in any resort.

We had a quick drink in the Piano Bar at the end of the day and discovered it sells a wide selection of Belgian beers! Our other job for the day was a trip to Super U in Bourg-saint-Maurice (about 20 minutes drive). It was a familiar sight from last year and we stocked up on beer, wine, cheese and meals for the week, which Sam had planned the night before.

I mentioned that Sainte-Foy has a lot of English holidaymakers and it's far more middle class than Les Arc or La Plagne. For example, the chalet next to us is occupied by husband, wife, baby, nanny and springer spaniel called Merlin. He can be seen chasing a tennis ball in the snow each afternoon when his owners have finished skiing.

Lucy has also been eavesdropping on conversations. She heard two men bemoaning past divorces; one had lost two houses (presumably to two failed marriages) and, to rub salt in the wound, his ex-wife had gone to the estate agent and sold the house just after the market crashed. Apart from divorce, the other favourite theme is diet and the theory is that the ski-resort diet of cheese, sausages, potatoes and alcohol is offset by calorie burning on the slopes.

"I must have burned two-thousand calories today."

"More, you burn an extra thousand just being at this altitude."

It would be nice if it was true.