The boys arrive...

The relative peace has been shattered. The old gits took a day off skiing with the intention of stocking up with food and booze. The result was a full scale fight with the French (& a lot of English) in the supermarket. Trolleys were used to batter down French resistance as we endeavoured to cross off products from the shopping list that stretched over two full pages of A4. Sorties by male old git to the fresh bread counter and, of course, the wine cellar managed to reduce the time a little, so by mid-afternoon we had the apartment heaving with goodies. This normally would have kept us going until we were due to leave in 6 weeks, but sadly, we knew that when they arrived it would only last 4 days at most.

Total confusion with flight times and the taxi meant younger sibling arriving several hours late. As he hadn’t eaten all day the stock pile had reduced to 3 days in a matter of minutes. However this was countered subsequently by a very successful day skiing with the youngster and we came home exhausted at trying to pace with him, although he wasn’t tired…he was hungry. 2 days of supplies left.

The eldest son also had confusion with the taxi and he didn’t arrive until the early hours; also very hungry. As he had a friend in tow who needed to kip down for the night some light refreshments were called for… We are now on bread and water rations for breakfast.
Old male git made a desperate dash to the supermarket and this time took the precaution of hiring a 40 foot low loader and fork lift truck to stock up. By the time I had returned the boy’s neat and tidy bedroom had looked like the aftermath of the first day of the January sales at Harrods; but this wasn’t all, they had started to spread throughout the apartment. However it is nice to see they still believe in Father Christmas and the magic of the festive time. Well, maybe not Farther Christmas and maybe not the festive season, but magic, yes. They leave used cups, plates, glasses all over the place knowing that the magical Mary Poppins will arrive and order dirty crockery to the sink, wash themselves and jump neatly back on the shelf…bless them.
Actually the sarcasm is not founded, for on the whole the family actually, by some miracle, does all pull together. That day after the supplies had been replenished we skied as a family and ended up with friends for a late lunch. It must have been altitude sickness that possessed us afterwards to head off to one of the hardest reds in the area. It had absolutely nothing to do with three bottles of Rose and a ruck of beer…
Strangely we felt quite gung-ho and enjoyed ourselves so much we only just made it back to the bottom of the mountain just before the lifts and pistes closed. Naturally after having such a wonderful day and with the family together, plus the added bonus of good friends, it meant that to miss the après ski would have been rude. Budget? What budget…?