Downhill Racer

The hotel in Val d’Isere was really the last word in opulence.  He had originally wanted us to stay in a little chalet but my pained expression told him that it would be the final straw.  If I had to endure the snow I wanted to do it in luxury !!

A skiing holiday had been his choice and, as usual, he had got his own way, even though he knew that I didn’t feel confident on skis.  In fact I hated the whole idea.

We had had a turbulent few months and I wanted to break off our engagement as soon as I realised he was just a selfish pig. But he had persuaded me to come on this trip, it would restore my faith….. or so he said !  So that’s how we came to be in this expensive playground,

” Learn to ski, babe ”   he had urged,   “then we can ski together, it will be fun !”
And so I spent every morning on the nursery slopes, making abortive attempts to stay upright while little kids whizzed by, skiing like veterans and he raced down the  ‘black ‘  runs like Franz flipping Klammer !

And every afternoon I was left to my own devices, to sink or swim, so to speak.  To make my own amusement while he was skiing the  ‘pistes’  high on the mountains. ……….

Some holiday……the self-centred oaf.
We had been there for almost two weeks when he decided he needed a few advanced lessons ………. heaven knows why , he was already at  ‘competion level’!   And so, next morning, he joined the small group of  poseurs  queuing to pay for some exclusive lessons from an ex-Olympic Champion, who would teach them the finer points of the  grande slalom. 
I knew it wouldn’t be long before he began to adulate the ex – champion and I didn’t intend to hang around to watch. I had witnessed his sycophantic simpering before and, believe me, it was sickening.   I called out and waved, but he was already chatting ostentatiously with the instructor, who had started to tick off the names of the participating couples on his clipboard. I guessed I had become invisible, out of sight out of mind, a situation that had become more and more common as the days passed.
Lunchtime came and it wasn’t until I had finished my meal and was just popping a sugar cube into my coffee, that he came strolling over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.  I swear he had just remembered me !  Apparently his group were going to practice what they had been taught on some  ‘Double Black-diamond‘  run and wouldn’t be back for hours.
So off I went , donning my ‘sunnies’ and strolling in the bright sunshine, watching laughing children sledging down snowy slopes on their tummies and ending in a giggling tangle at the foot of the hill. Then I wandered back to the luxury of the hotel, following the same routine I had for the last fortnight.
I had to smile to myself when, some hours later, they carried him down the mountain on a stretcher.  I was told that he had skied too close to some trees and got knocked off balance by some protruding bough, tumbled and fallen and crashed into some snow covered rocks , breaking an arm and both legs.

He was Medi-Vac’d back to the UK the next day, but I stayed on in Val d’Isere, in the Penthouse Suite. The suite that belonged to the owner of the hotel, the charming man I had been meeting every afternoon for the last fourteen days

____________________________________________________________________________________
Yes, dear reader, you guessed didn’t you ? It’s another story courtesy of Matt’s word game and the words;
Tummies, Bough, Abortive, Tick, Adulate, Tangle, Pained, Sunnies, Sugar, Couples

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About rosiewrites2

Growing old, disgracefully and enjoying every minute.
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2 Responses to Downhill Racer

  1. rockleigh says:

    Off piste entertainment sounds far better than actual skiing.
    Good for her! X

    Liked by 1 person

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