A Walk In The Park

I'm having a couple of days R&R in the Alps. Sounds wonderful and I'm sure you're all assuming I'm curled up by a log fire, with a glass of something warming, after a hard day on the piste.

Well needless to say (this is me we're talking about), its not quite like that. For starters, Himself is hard at work (my suspicions of him whiling away hours in the local bar were quite unfounded), so I have been providing support services in the form of clean underpants and cheese sarnies. There's no snow down here in the valley and very little sunshine either. The driving wind makes stepping outside, even for a second, unpleasant to say the least, so a combination of workload and weather has meant the only time I've been out, has been for a trip to the local supermarket. And as Himself had to drive me (the brakes on the van are failing), I was starting to feel like an Eastern European housewife.

Yesterday there was a break in the incessant wind and the sun came out. I decided that I would get some benefit from my 'break' (ha ha) and get out there, fill my lungs with clean alpine air and admire some stunning alpine scenery.

I took the 17 year old with me, on the grounds that I didn't have a dog to hand and that it would Do Him Good. He doesn't really do walking but ambled along happily enough for the first half an hour. We spotted a lake in the valley below and decided to head down towards it. All was still very pleasant, the sun was shining and the birds were singing. When we reached the lake, we discovered it was actually a hydro electric plant and that we couldn't get anywhere near it. So the plan of strolling round the shore went out of the window. This was the point when I started to grasp the basic flaw about walking in the Alps. There are bloody hills everywhere. We'd been walking downhill for an hour so retracing our steps would have meant a horrendous slog uphill.

Then I spotted a footpath alongside the river, with a sign indicating that if we followed the trail for 1h40, we'd get to a nearby village. Having persuaded the 17 year old that walking on the flat was a better plan than retracing our steps, we set off. The trail may well have taken that time - if you were a member of an elite military unit and were just back from a weeks advanced fitness training. After two hours, we were covered in scratches, bruises and had aching limbs from all the rocky uphill sections. Obviously it didn't follow the river bank but instead took us on a track that would have been fine, if you were a goat.

It was getting colder and the sun was going down. We were still in some bit of forest, we'd lost the main path and of course, we had nothing to eat or drink. What we did have was my new super whizzy Iphone complete with maps, a compass and all sorts. Did I remember to use it? Of course not.

By some miracle, we eventually emerged in someone's garden and having nervously skirted round the chained up guard dog, we staggered onto a road. At this point I did remember the phone and called Himself, who set off to find us. Obviously I managed to give him totally wrong directions so the 17 year old and I, were left standing shivering at the roadside for some time. The husband is still laughing himself stupid at my complete and utter inability to use any piece of technology and keeps making jokes about applications called 'I lost' and 'I stupid' and the 17 year old is highly unlikely to ever agree to come for a walk again.

World's Worst blogger

Okay I'm holding my hands up and admitting to being the worst blogger, in the world, ever. Not only do I rarely (if ever) add any whizzy, little gismos, let alone do all the things that good bloggers are meant to do, but as of late, I don't seem to be even able to get round to writing anything. I'd like to come up with some really good excuses but the only thing I can come up with is that I'm utterly crap. And disorganised. And rather busy.

So what is it that keeps me from the keyboard? Well to give you, dear readers, an idea, I thought I would share a typical days events with you. I'm on my own at the moment as Himself is elsewhere. Allegedly he is installing kitchens, but as this is in a ski resort, I suspect he is more likely to be whizzing down a slope or propping up a bar, surrounded by lovelies. I'm here with the kids. Bitter, moi? Mais non....

By 7.30 this morning, I'd lit the fires, fed the kids, walked the dogs and let the ducks out. One of the ducks is in solitary at the moment as she keeps trying to rape and kill another smaller female. Only I could end up with ducks that could easily get a part on Prisoner Cell Block H. So until I find someone who is prepared to dispatch 'Fucky Ducky' - (they didn't cover murdering lesbian ducks at finishing school) - she has to be locked up away from the others overnight.

When I got outside to hang the first load of the day out, I noticed the electric fencing flapping in the wind. Never a good sign. Further investigation revealed that the local deer population had been playing 'French skipping', in and out of the lower two strands and that various posts were down. The pony had worked out an escape route and had a wicked glint in her eye as she knew she was about two steps and five minutes from freedom. And the neighbour's juicy, green lawn.

So I had to move the nags into the next field and repair the fencing - all before breakfast. And of course, this never happens, apart from when Himself isn't here. Grrr. Then the internet wouldn't work. Again. This happens on a regular basis but I usually just yell for technical support to come and it is sorted within minutes. As technical support is up a mountain, I was without any connection for a few hours until I could get hold of him. Double Grrr. Then I went to get the next load of washing out of the machine and it seems to have decided that it no longer wishes to operate the spin part of the cycle. Triple Grrr. Then just as I was about to leave for the airport to collect someone, I get a text to say that the flight is delayed. Instead of a civilised afternoon spin out, I will now need to load the car with assorted children this evening (who will all be horrible as they will be tired and hungry) and hit motorway rush hour traffic. And the car will probably decide to break down too.

So whilst I fully intend to keep you up to speed with the next installment of 'Life in a Landaise Hovel', if it takes me a while to put finger to keyboard, please make allowances. I will probably be busy strangling a duck with some electric fencing. Or tethering a pony in the middle of the garden with a modem cable. Or just drowning my sorrows.