And so to France, where I went up a mountain, came down a mountain, rinsed, and repeated, until it was time to pack the board into a bag once more and make my weary way back to London.
Superlatives don't do it justice. All I can do to describe this epically stupendous time is to throw adjectives at it in a way designed to make any English teacher cry, tripping over my own words with excitement like a teenage boy confronted with a hot girl who wants to dance. "Wow...um...great...yeah...brilliant...amazing...fantastically incredibly legendarily awesome!"
But a complete and utter disaster of course. Everything just went so smoothly. I left, safe in the knowledge that I'm really quite a dreadful snowboarder, relying more on my total enthusiasm than any natural grace, balance, or talent to get me from top to bottom. I returned, stunned, amused, and quietly* proud that somehow, somewhere, something has stuck, and it turns out I know how to snowboard. And I'm not too bad at it, either. Still a lot to learn, of course, but overall, not too shabby.
Which means I have literally no funny stories about 'things that happened to me while up a tall mountain strapped to a funny shaped wooden board'. Zero. NONE. There were a few falls, of course, but they were minor, undramatic affairs, resulting in nothing more than a couple of giggles and a bit of snow in odd places where I'm not used to encountering snow.
It was with confidence and joy that I took myself off to Meribel, thinking I would come back with scores of hilarious stories that I could write about, providing you lot with some entertainment and letting myself off the crippling hook of insecurity and intense fear that strikes me whenever I can't think what words to put together in what order**. Instead, I am finding myself writing a story about how my traitorous body learnt to snowboard and did me out of some good stories. How very self-reflexive and postmodern. Deconstructed, if you like.***
We went to Meribel on a coach. A big bus, for God's sake. The drive from London to the French Alps is a long one. About fourteen hours or so. The drive back is, funnily enough, about the same length of time. I had thoughts about this...
Me (four days ago): Golly, 28 hours on a coach. Wonder what will happen? Something's bound to happen. Hope it's something funny. Wonder what will happen?
Me (now): Who would think that 28 hours on a coach could pass in such a freakishly uneventful manner? Something must have happened. Think...think...wow. 28 hours on a coach and really, nothing happened? Golly.
Me (four days ago): Golly is a good word. I'm pleased I just thought it, and I intend to use it more often in conversation.
Me (now): I'm really progressing well with this golly usage. Internal high five!
So. An uneventful coach ride, followed by some awesome, but highly restrained, safe, grown up snowboarding, followed by some unspectacular drinking and eating (driving all night and boarding all day means drinking all the next night's just not going to happen, no matter how noble the intentions of the group). Rinse and repeat before returning to London, having had a terrific trip. It doesn't make for a great story.
Right, time for apologies. I know I've been boring and not so funny of late, and something will have to be done about it, before I lose any more fans.**** At this rate, I shall have to start going out. And if that's what it takes, I will, because (hand on heart, Scarlett O'Hara style) as God is my witness, I will never go boring random blog reading victims again.
*Actually very very loud and vocal about my pride in myself.
**Wow, put that way there's not much to this writing business, is there?
***Oh yes, I went to uni. Please don't ask me what those terms mean.
****Oh yeah, I LOST a fan on Facebook! I was horrified, and whatever I've done to make that person decide they are no longer a fan of this blog, I'm sorry. I don't want to seem desperate, but COME BACK! Funnily enough, I then noticed I personally had lost a friend, and greeted that news with a shrug and a meh. But the fan loss - truly crippling.