End of season??? Not yet!!!!

This wasn’t what we expected to see on April 11th……..

Freak of nature

Shocker as the Fish and Pips team actually do different stuff!

Absolutely gobsmacked at the sight of a park and a lake (and never been happier to have ownership of an H&M bag)

Mad thoughts and an extraordinary surge of adventure has struck the Fish and Pips team in the past few weeks as they’ve all being doing new and exciting things in and around the Meribel area. Besides from leaving the valley on more than one occasion, other novelty activities have included a discipline swap (skiers trying boarding and vice-versa), skiing for the entirety of day-off and going into Meribel Centre on a Friday night!! (If only to watch the Cheerleaders in battle of the bands). The Fish and Pips team were so enthralled with these new ways of spending days and nights and the liberation of leaving the mountain, they even planned to ski in Le Plan last Wednesday, albeit this was cancelled due to poor weather. Despite this, the team still insisted on venturing out of the village and went for a delightful lunch in Le Praz, Courchevel. “I can’t believe we haven’t done more of this stuff before!,” quoted chalet girl Lucy Golding. “There is actually more to life on this season than festering in the Lodge Du Village!”

This is true. The Fish and Pips team have, very impressively, been super active in organising a variety of entertainment to blow away those end of season blues. I admit this sounds ridiculous. After all, what on earth is there to be blue about in an environment so special; yet the mundane feeling of repetitiveness does come into play – the Meribubble can bore the socks off a seasonaire if they don’t get out once in a while. This mental frenzy of visiting other places started with a lovely day trip to Tignes for the X-games. Back-flips on skidoos and Shaun White doing some small tricks on his snowboard were the highlight, as was a day exploring a resort and not actually knowing every curve and contour of the runs.

Proud at how much we look like the Ronnie crew

Then it was Jess’ 30th birthday, so we all went somewhere other than the Fromagerie and tried The Den for size. We liked this change of environment so much, we decided to go again six nights later. We couldn’t get enough of all these new things. Besides from stretching our horizons in a culinary sense, we even challenged the possibilities of “a full day on the slopes.” The Escapade Challenge, if you haven’t embarked on this thirty-six lift, 9-5, no stopping, straight-lining, no time for long toilet stops, three valley challenge then you’ve saved yourself a day of mental and physical strain. This is the biggest mountain ball-ache you will ever experience but probably the most rewarding feeling you will ever have from a day on the slopes.  These eighteen different spots, throughout Meribel, Val Thorens and Courchevel are marked on the piste map as a way to see the whole Trois Vallees in a week’s worth of skiing. Not, quite understandably, in a day. View the route below right, the highlighted orange marks show our tracks, all that could fit on the camera lens that is. Attempt if you dare (to be disabled the next day).

Follow the orange path of death

Pete and I missed the final check-point by five minute and then hobbled to the Ski Lodge in La Tania for the best pint of our lives. At least we didn’t get stuck in no-mans land.  Well done to Elena and Rhys, whose stronger mental determination and skillful mogul manoeuvres on the final descent saw them through to completing the challenge. For the first time in months I felt as though I truly deserved my evening meal. If this insane mountain marathon wasn’t enough and because we’ve all reached one of those mythical skiing “plateaus” (in other words: we can’t be truly bothered to put in the time or energy to improve) Elena, Jess and I decided to ditch those irritating skis, snap those pesky poles and take up snowboarding instead.

Riding the pow-pow.

What better way to heighten our stress levels and hatred for the piste but to attempt snowboarding. We were now officially gays on trays and in that club of dilly-dallers who dance across the piste like they’ve the mountain to themselves or when more experienced, commence behind skiers with a fearsome icy growl and cause 99% of all mountain accidents. Ha ha, this is war. But we wanted to see what all the fuss was about. You know that glimmer of hope you feel when you take up a new sport or activity, that glimmer of hope where you think this may be your true calling, that an extraordinary natural talent will be uncovered? Well, that didn’t happen. It wasn’t disastrous however and seeing as the temperature was twenty odd degrees, our stress levels remained controlled in the tropic heat and we didn’t mind it. I must say I never gave a second thought to how difficult it is to actually get off the ground on a board and how demoralising it feels to be a beginner all over again. Because it was only fair, Pete tried skiing and rose to the challenge like a natural. Honestly, I found myself in a minor huff of jealousy as he effortlessly rode Saulire to home on only his second day out.

First day at Lucy's ski school

So we all vaguely enjoyed the discipline swap, but not enough to do it more than once – the inability to turn our necks, walk up the stairs or get out of a car the next day was quite enough to dissuade us. In fact, we’d had it with resort life altogether so drove as far away from the pistes as possible, all the way to lake Annecy! By this point our obsession with doing things out of the ordinary was turning into an addiction. Yes, we know that Meribel Village is lovely and beautiful and we shouldn’t take a location so exclusive for granted, but there are moments when one starts to miss bigger buildings, city noises, shops, water (like lakes/sea and stuff, not the liquid from the taps – we get enough of that) and people who don’t ski!  It’s a challenge to explain this to all you cosmopolitan city dwellers, but walking around a normal town with more to look at than an out-dated fashion boutique and a roundabout with some fairy lights on it, sent our senses into over-drive. Tracey, well she nearly had a panic-attack. “The mental stimulation is just too much!!!” she cried as we entered an ice-cream parlour.

Tracey was so enthralled by the gelaterie selection she insisted on recalling every single flavour. " There was even the choice of a cone or a tub!" she said.

There was a lake, a Macdonalds, a cinema and people wearing suits. There wasn’t a chairlift to be seen or a rustle of salopetes to be heard. The lakes, the mountains and the canals were a prominent factor in our decision to visit Annecy, but the real reason for being there? H&M and Zara. To walk into an actual commercial outlet, two shops which reminded us of our normal, civilized lives at home, was emotional. Actually, I’ll tell you what was emotional; the uncovering of my semi-naked body after four whole months under wraps. In the harsh light of the changing room I stood there in my under crackers face to face with the contents of a bread bin and the LDV stock room. I was depressed for a minute, that was until I purchased not one but two pairs of jeans without holes in! Magic. A spot of lunch by the canals and a sunbathing session in the park made us miss normality more than ever.

Look at the buildings!!!

After all those adventures and new experiences, the Fish and Pips crew were rather exhausted. Thankfully, that will be the last of the two-hour car rides and pushing our senses to the limit activities. Everything’s coming to us this week. Fish Stock for one is situated conveniently on the terraces of Braye and Aurigny and thank god Charity Day is coming to Meribel Village this year. I don’t think we could face trekking all the way to La Tania.

Fantasy dinner party, airbags and chebs.

Worst guests ever!!

Apologies for being the least up-to-date blogger in the world and writing an entry approximately every four weeks! My recent days have been spent lazing in the blissful sunshine, burning my face and realising that I can not drink beer in the afternoon and stay awake. Ski days are few and far between and our winter wardrobes are becoming entirely impractical – I fear the day when my scaly bruised legs must be realised from hibernation as thermals and fleeces have prevented me from seeing my body for four whole months! From minus 20 degrees about six weeks ago, temperatures are now soaring up to +20 and memories of last season’s rapidly decreasing snow-line are quickly coming back. Thankfully, Pete had a haircut to cope with the tropical climate! Due to a pile resembling what looks like an entire days worth of trimmings from Tony and Guy, you would imagine that Pete is now nearly bald. But no, there still remains a thick and glossy lid on the top of his head.

Pete's mop

The season is ending before our eyes, never before have I experienced such a quick progression of time. The phrase really is true about having fun and all that, hence why my three months working at that anonymous two Michelin-starred pub in Marlow (can you tell where it is yet?) lasted for around twenty-five years. We’re already on week fifteen of guests, it seems as though each set are only in chalet Braye for a matter for hours before the next ones arrive! Rhys and I were quite surprised when a split booking of eight familiar faces turned up at our door for a week at Fish and Pips (picture at top). Apart from K Mid and the Queen the rest were all strangers, after having sought out a last-minute deal (£500pp!!). The Queen, surprisingly expert at skiing, seriously enjoyed ripping up the fresh powder. Tensions did however arise between herself and Brucey, who was an irritating pain in the arse and always came down late for breakfast. Jeremy Clarkson was an absolute tool, he hung around the chalet all day drinking the free wine and never even went skiing, only went outside once to road-test the bum boards. Brad Pitt; well he was dull, Del Boy was a very dirty guest and Roger Moore, well he was my favourite – a superb off-piste skiier and very charming gentleman but left the shower quite hairy. Katie Perry and Kate Middleton probably formed the closest friendship and shared a cheeky snog at the end of the week but didn’t eat anything Rhys had prepared, which I thought was quite rude. To be honest I was happy to see them leave, especially as they didn’t tip. Ha ha, I’m so funny.

Believe me, I still love it here and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in March but conversation frequently veers towards cravings for home comforts and elements of normality: shops, new clothes, driving, Asian food, the gym, two lye-ins in a row, not talking about skiing all the time, not eating all our meals standing up and NOT EVER having to clean again!! Well, I’m sure that I will probably clean again but not having to clean the same building six days a week would be a delightful change. Whilst polishing another mirror and hoovering the bedrooms again, I calculated that by the end of this season, also taking into account last year, I would have cleaned Chalet Braye 240 times, which works out at 960 bathrooms and bedrooms!!! If we estimate that the average person cleans their own house once a fortnight, this is the equivalent of a normal person cleaning for about ten years, not even considering those who have a cleaner or students. (Or my sister, who is both a student and has a cleaner.) I was definitely put on this earth for greater things. That doesn’t even include end of season shut-down and picking the holes at the back of a microwave with a tooth-pick.

But it’s not all about work, and really, cleaning only happens in the morning whilst the evenings are immensly enjoyable – serving dinner to interesting, tipsy guests and eating unlimited amounts of food – that I certainly will miss. And besides, there’s also more to being here than purely working – let us not forget the world of opportunity that lies outside our chalet door. Much fun has been had on these lazy sunny days and hazy alpine evenings; hot tub parties included (read goosegoesskiinglatenightadventureswithswedishmen.wordpress.com). Oh, I did that bloody airbag thing again, despite deciding it was a been there, got the T-shirt, got winded and decided that once was enough, kind of activity.

Poised and ready to go

Lacking the bollocks to sail down the take-off by myself, here I am being held in position by the instructor before he let go of my hand. It’s fairly stressful standing at the top of a hill, knowing the chance of breaking your neck is higher than average, whilst hearing mocking shouts of peer pressure from the guys behind, who were also certainly pooping themselves, yet desperately trying to put on a brave face. Then I just decided to go for it, because why wouldn’t you want to chuck yourself off a ten foot kicker onto nothing more than a big plastic bag?

Still not having fun

So yeah, I still hate it. At least I didn’t wind myself this time, or break my neck which is apparently what happened to somebody a couple of weeks before. Fancy it?

And a goosegoesskiing blog could not be a goosegoesskiing blog without a little snippet of another APIC (that’s how seasonaires say epic) night-out. Like eighties night, once in a while the LDV puts on a special themed evening, with fancy dress and a DJ and all that. Last week it was Baywatch night – cleverly advertised with the promise of a wet T-shirt and a wet Y-front competition! I can understand the attraction of boobs through a soaking see-through top but a shrivelled chipolata through a pair of white saggy Y fronts?? Not sure about that. That isn’t to say however that I wasn’t looking forward to it. But little did we know the con that was to follow as the LDV, filled with hoards of raucous young males, the type of males who might bellow “get your rat out!” in the street, stood with their tongues hanging out enjoying a display of chalet girl chebs (and so they did), whilst the wet Y-front competition failed to even happen!!!!!! Apparently all the willing competitors were too drunk!! So we were lured there under false pretences and in an outrageously sexist fashion, women were treated like objects whilst the men sat back with all their chipolatas intact. Boo to the LDV. We did get to dress up as life-guards though.

Kev has hair again!

No pictures of chebs im afraid. Chebs, just so you are aware is the word of the month. It means boobs in simple northern language.  Is really funny when said over and over again.

The top 10 moments of the fortnight!! Makes you wish you were here really.

They don't call us the Br"A"ye team for nothing.

I would be lying if I said that inspiration for this blog came naturally. This is my second season (don’t you know) and something like my thirtieth week living here in Meribel Village, undertaking the same weekly routine which includes three activities: working, skiing and going to the pub. This therefore makes it a real creative struggle to continuously find blog-worthy events without boring you all to tears by talking about the time Elena and I did the Meribel couloir or how to clean a bathroom. This is no Hollyoaks village, this is Meribel Village; a place where we all love each other and are at one with the mountains. Seriously, it’s true.  But of course, there’s always a blog to write and I felt the only way to depict the most important moments since I wrote the last blog, is to give you a top 10 countdown of the most exciting moments from the last two weeks. Contain yourselves.

10. The cheapest massages in the world!! For one week only Pamper off Piste offered seasonnaires a full body massage for twenty euros! Of course, we did not hesitate to take them up on this and had them come round to Surreaux the very next day. Our staff accommodation is certainly no Champneys so had the poor lady squeeze into our minging bathroom in order to carry out her work. She even brought that special nature/japanese garden/dolphin cry music with her. Great way to spend an hour though and far less stressful than skiing.

Elena didn't mind

9. My first ever MoonPig card! Lovely Australian Bruce put a lot of time and effort into creating the most lovely of MoonPig cards for us to say thank you for his stay! (Refer to above). Talk about a bloody small world, Bruce just so happens to live in Alderney, the microscopic island where myself and many other Fish and Pippers will be spending the summer and therefore knows he may be seeing us sooner than he first thought – a free pint in the Georgian perhaps? Thanks Bruce mate!

8. Dan Curgenven (Dan the Driver) got his head shaved. Or should that be Dan Mitchell. “It’s not worth it.” Yes, the once friendly-looking, bearded country bumpkin now looks like he might be found hanging around outside a football ground. If you come across this man on the isolated woodland path between Village and Gittaz, he is actually a really friendly man and had nothing to do with the event depicted at number 2 (refer below).

Leave it aaaaat

7. R’ Meribel and Mr Chicken. R’ Meribel – Meribel’s radio station (R pronounced in French so therefore sounds like air. Clever eh?) isn’t exactly Radio 1. However, even with a repertoire of approximately ten songs and the most dreadful advertisements ever to be heard (Would you like a takeaway?), we still all love to listen. Breakfast can be a challenge at the best of times, the early mornings certainly take their toll and there’s nothing we need more than a musical pick-me-up to prevent us from placing the croissants in the dishwasher or yoghurts in the oven.  Last year it was especially popular with our chefs due to the sexy French voice of the female presenter; in fact I’m sure she was the cause of a wet croissants or two. If R’ Meribel isn’t churning out the greatest hits of Olly Murs then they are broadcasting some seriously dodgey Euro hits. There often seems to be a popular song of the moment, this month it is Mister Chicken by Deluxe. Have you not heard of them? I would like everybody to listen to it and really think about the meaning of the lyrics. My favourite line has to be “Rub your ass to the floor make it sparkly, shiny, whore.”??!! They don’t even censor the words! I imagine little Archie and Henry don’t want to hear that before ski school.

Check it out, and don’t all rush to download it at once.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2rHIoD59AQ

6.  Third trip to La Fromagerie and I’ll surely be back again. This is the greatest restaurant in Meribel. You may have guessed it has something to do with cheese. You may like to purchase a gas mask or plastic body suit before entering, if one does not wish to reek like sweaty foot for the next twenty-four hours. All crowded pubs to be avoided after dinner. (On second thoughts, like that scene in Slumdog Millionaire with the poo and the autograph, it will get you to the bar quicker). If you don’t like cheese then go somewhere else as there is nothing else to eat. You can either have Raclette: this is a semi-circular piece of cheese, about the size of the moon placed under a grill to allow the cheese to melt. This is then scraped off by a designated scraper person and plonked onto whatever takes your fancy – charcuterie, bread or potatoes. If this form of melted calorie doesn’t tickle your fancy then there’s the traditional cheese fondue, which is err, more melted cheese in a big old pot, perfect for dipping your bread, potatoes or salami in. Last week was Elena’s birthday and, because why would we want to eat anything other than a saucepan of fat, we took a little trip to our favourite restaurant and ate like monsters. I now aim to bring the franchise of La Fromagerie to Marlow, except I do not believe that the yummy mummies will appreciate their blow-drys smelling like the cheese counter in Waitrose.

More appealing than the picture demonstrates

5. Braye’s first engagement! I’d like to say congratulations to our guests Callum and Leanne who got engaged here in Meribel two weeks ago at the top of the Cote Brune chair-lift! As ex-seasonaires the three valleys is a very special place to them so good luck in the future guys and I would like to apologise again for my Scottish accent. We had  a “fine time” having you to stay.

Happy celebrations in the LDV

4. Unusual change of habit.  We had a day off where we didn’t go to either the Rond Point or to the LDV, which has never happened before. Instead we opted for the classier Roc Tania, complete with really amusing DJ who we believe was actually on Spotify and only pretending to use his decks. We then skiied down to the Ski Lodge in La Tania for a change of scenery. Can’t say House Party 5000 were a patch on Bring your Sisters though. Nevertheless, change is good

3. Another silly Cheerleaders night. I may have mentioned that Friday night is when the Cheerleaders hit the Lodge Du Village. I can’t complain really except this is a HIDEOUS case of time-tabling as a fantastic night dancing to the sensational covers of Mumford and Sons, Miike Snow and Kings of Leon, many a Jager Bomb, chuckle and a sing-song soon turns into changeover day about five hours later; hospital corners, dirty bathrooms and cleaning the self-catered chalet looms over us!!! Last Friday it was Elena’s birthday celebrations plus our guests got in a babysitter especially so they could let their hair down AND because it was the second Friday of the month, meant once again I didn’t go home early like I said I would. Great dancing, way too much to drink and a very hideous Saturday morning. Tonight I am NOT going.

Dance like no one's watching. Except they are. With their camera.

2.  Casualty in Surreaux! Admittedly it was a bit frightening to hear panicked shouts of help off the side of the path home – in the darkness and through the bushes it was difficult to tell if help was actually required or if we were about to be mugged. It did actually turn out to be a genuine alarm as Rhys and I discovered an an obliterated seasonaire lying in the snow, crying out in pain that his ribs hurt. After having way too much of something or other, he decided to ski down a narrow windy woodland path and eventually, into a tree. After realising he was in fact not in a good way at all we fetched some help – it took four guys to carry him back down to our staff accommodation where he lay shivering on our sofa, lips blue and yelping in agony. Let’s just say the Moutier medical team weren’t the most urgent of emergency services, but he was finally taken to hospital – diagnosis was apparently nine broken ribs and internal bleeding. If that’s drama then I’d much rather I had nothing to write about at all. Thankfully the guy is fine but I must say that it really takes the shine out of moonlit skiing.

And finally, the most ground-breaking of incidents to have happened in the past fortnight.

1. Cat-fight outside of staff accommodation (where it all seems to be going on this month)!

I was awoken at a particularly late hour to discover Roger (pictured right) and an anonymous feline (pictured left) having a pretty tense stand-off. I am definitely team Roger though, despite the fact he bit my hand when I tried to save him from the derelict barn. That is, however, an entirely different story.

It was acceptable in the Eighties. And in Meribel Village.

Me and drunk sibling

Me and even drunker sibling

Something monumental happened! I got my first visitors!! After a lot of persuasion and reassurance to my Dad that even though Meribel prices are ridiculous they are surely worth it for the’world’s biggest ski area’ and that he probably will get over paying five Euros a drink before he dies, family Goose made a trip to Meribel Village – even my mother, who doesn’t ski came along and enjoyed a few days of drinking coffee and the hands of magical Massage Jane. And of course, it was imperative that I introduced my younger, less mature but apparently better looking sister to the wonders of the Lodge Du Village. Having said this, on the first night, after telling her it was the greatest pub that ever was only disappointment spread across her face as she entered the deserted shabby interior of a bar no bigger than her bedroom, a bar propped up by only Pete and Irish Adam like two lonely old men in the Rovers Return. Alas, I only had to wait as the LDV pulled out what I reckon was their best themed night so far, Eighties night, and what a phenomenal collection of songs and outfits that paraded those grubby tiles. Tracy “House party beer guzzler, i.e, the Canadian” Tully undoubtedly looked the best. Myself, as always, roped together a lastminute.com and wore Rhys’ mountain scene jumper and my broken sunglasses (I was however extremely flattered by the odd bearded man who told me he enjoyed the sight of mountains on my mountains – a charmer!). My sister, overwhelmed by the coolness of a seasonaire’s lifestyle had an absolutely cracking time, even though she wasn’t born until 2002. Unable to recall being told off by her mother as she stumbled in her chalet at some unearthly hour of the morning has now been initiated into the greatest pub that ever was. Even my Dad came along for a spot of Bring Your Sisters on Wednesday and a taste of local Mutzig – a very dangerous beer. Thanks for coming family Goose!

Aerobics Barbie

And for your fortnightly weather report: By March last year it was so unnaturally warm that people were sunbathing on the LDV balcony topless; that’s boys not girls. It snowed no more than three times between new year and the end of April and the word off-piste was nothing more than a myth and a dream. This year, conditions could not be more different with the best snowfall recorded in approximately twenty years, and the temperatures are so cold we have permanent frozen snot droplets on the ends of our noses, whilst wine bottles are actually exploding on our window sills. At the top of Platieres lift last week, fighting for survival in what must have been -20 degrees, I did question why we put ourselves through such intense physical pain in the name of sport, and then tell everyone it’s fun. Who came up with such a ridiculous idea, and who was the clever bugger who started capitalising on people sliding off cliffs on planks of wood in natures most brutal conditions?

So I haven’t mentioned my lessons to you at all! That’s probably because when I was writing my last blog entry even the thought of my twice weekly seasonaire lessons made my shudder with worry and fear. I know these things are designed to push you, to force you into situations which one would never undertake on one’s own, but the beginning was  seriously stressful – physically and mentally. I’ve been banging on about wanting to go off-piste for a long while now, last season and this one, and the moment I had to venture further than one metre the other side of the pole, I seemed to experience a strong physical reaction which literally made me unable to turn. If we weren’t attempting to traverse across cliff tops we were being forced into doing, wait for it ….. small jumps! Good lord. Let’s just say I haven’t cried at ski school since I was twelve when my ESF instructor started whacking my boot when I couldn’t stand up. Anyhow, things did not stay awful for long and seven lessons later, fresh powder in between the trees, the Meribel couloir and the off-piste run down to Raffort on a glorious sunny day, well I would say it was the greatest skiing I’ve ever done – and I could actually do it with a touch of style. Thanks Fabrice, you were ace and even though you caused me to ski into a tree trunk and shouted at me for not following your every track, I came out the other side a better person.

Camilla, me and Elena in lesson of all lessons. "Um, ya, the powder was Aaah-maaazing."

So with all this frantic partying (ironic comment, I barely even make it to town anymore) and superb skiing I have forgotten to mention my work-life, which doesn’t really feel like work at all. Chalet Braye is, as well all know, “The Greatest Chalet in the Valley,” and therefore we rarely fail to receive a selection of the finest guests in the whole world, who travel from the far corners of the earth just to sample Rhys’ cooking and my fabulous towel folding abilities. Sarah, Mark, James and Charlotte who came to Meribel all the way from Sydney Australia, definitely deserve a place in Braye’s bestest guests list; an entertaining, warm and dynamic family who really did look like they’d just stepped off the set of Home and Away. My particular highlight of the week was when 13 year old James ate so much Wasabi he gave himself a nose bleed. We did not encourage this and did provide a warning before serving the sushi course. As soon as I get a proper job and can afford to travel to Oz, I will be there to visit.

The Aussies and the Pom

It was only right that Rhys should honour them on the morning of Australia Day by wearing a wetsuit to breakfast. Nice poached eggs!

Sadly all is hidden by his apron

And finally on this agenda of blog-worthy events- Fish and Pips went bowling!!!!

Kevin the child bowling prodigy

That’s all I have to say about that.

There’s no I in team but there is an EAT! Plus a crusty, icy and cheesy tale….

Living the alpine dream

Please slow down season! It is now one-third of the way through the whole thing and I am still hopeless at this ridiculous sport! Very desperate measures need to be taken soon. I can picture it now, on the ski holidays of my future, friends and colleagues whispering behind my back “She’s done two seasons you know! Good lord she’s not very good is she?” This can not happen. We’re really in the midst of it now – training, Christmas and New Year are a fading memory, fatness is creeping up on us and friendships are becoming increasing solid; we can all now recognise and name approximately all twenty regulars who occupy the LDV! And our cleaning skills? I think us hosts would give Kim and Aggie a run for their money, we just can’t get enough of it. In particular we all relish how shiny taps can look after only a few seconds of polishing – it makes the whole shower look clean! If we’re not discussing this then we are analysing the best way to mop the bathroom floors, comparing hoover parts, delighting over how spectacular the glass cleaner is or discovering how to achieve the perfect hospital corners – which by the way I have recently found the answer to and they are looking fantastic! I’ve spared you a photograph.

In Goose Goes Skiing the first, I posted a picture of, and please excuse the crudeness of my language, “Chalet girl poo finger”. Definition: The unexplainable and permanent brown tinge a chalet girl gets on one’s index finger several weeks into the season. Apologies for this is highly disgusting terminology, but that is the official phrase and I wouldn’t want to mess with the glossary of seasonaire language. This year, things are far worse and my hands are now in a condition that I have named as “homeless, pensioner claw.” It’s only right that I show you the damage caused by cold temperatures, bleach and washing up. They didn’t tell you this is the movie. I am almost certain that Ed Westwick would not have chosen Felicity Jones over Sophia Bush if he had of noticed that her hands were turning green. (Quote Pete: why can’t you have nice soft hands and painted nails like other girls?) Please feel free to click on the picture and then zoom in.

Proof of extreme hard graft

Besides from my deteriorating paws, many other risks and dangers face us all on a daily basis here in Village. I can actually picture Rhys now, chuckling quietly to himself  as it was him who told me that I am the most safety conscious person he has ever met. In fact, this is totally untrue as I would prefer to call myself careful. I only strive, with perhaps exaggerated cation, to avoid a ‘season-ender’ from a number of impending freak accidents involving snow; it may look soft and magical but really, it’s the devils weather. I also feel extremely passionate about promoting safe skiing to my defenceless guests who don’t wear helmets. “I just don’t like wearing a helmet!” they say as I reply with “Well that’s what I said and then I got concussion, and I paid more for the X-ray of my skull than I would have done for a bloody helmet in the first place.” If these scary tactics means that just one hat-wearing punter takes the plunge and buys a helmet, I’ve done my job. Anyway, ski resorts are dangerous!!! Not only do we face breaking our necks from the black ice on every staircase, path and corner but we face the danger of falling snow drifts and icicles landing on our heads. This is Pete on the way up from staff accommodation.

A monkey in the mountains

And me on the way down

The only way

Okay so less of the hardships and more about the great times! An awful lot of thought and time goes into the recruitment of Fish and Pips staff, and boy hasn’t it paid off as I am lucky enough to be here amongst what I imagine is probably the best F&P team ever. And what better way to share our love for one another than to go on a team ski, laugh merrily, frolic in the snow and eat a luxurious picnic at the top of the Col De Loze before taking many a gay snap-shot to show the world that we really are having the time of our lives! (Refer to top of post) Cheesy as it may be, I promise this is not a staged photo for the new Fish and Pips brochure, although it really should be. I’d work for them, looks like a right crack! Please refer to the bottom if you would like to know what the picnic consisted of. I say “refer to the bottom” because I want to give all followers of Goose Goose Skiing Part 2 the option of whether they want read about another gluttonous feeding frenzy, or if they would rather opt out. After all, I do not wish to alienate the non food obsessives amongst you. I must remember this is not a food blog, which it could easily turn into. On that note I have found the woman who has stolen my future job. Read www.eatlikeagirl.com and you will understand.

On an entirely different note, here’s something utterly fantastic for you. So Chalet Du Guide, the big one, is run by none other than Peter Gray and Elena Chong, an absolute dream team what with Pete’s Michelin standard cuisine and Elena’s impeccable efficiency.

 

However, there may be a time when things aren’t going particularly swimmingly in the chalet or maybe a flicker of tension arises between them both (not very often may I add). So what would we then say?

 

IT’S ALL GONE PETE CHONG!!

 

 Courtesy of Rhys, that is potentially the best pun that ever was. I hope this will never get old.

 

It's actually all going pretty good at this point

I tell you what has got really, really old though. That’s baby cheeses. Please, for the love of cheese can you just throw him away Rhys. Inspired by our wonderful South African guests and a once amusing Christmas themed joke, Rhys was so busy one morning he modified a piece of Tomme de Savoie to look like this. Originally, this cheese was not of the blue variety. Now it is.

Say cheese

I will be throwing him in the bin very shortly.

Breakdown of the picnic (all homemade): Sushi, Cornish pasties, sweet chili chicken, pasta salad, apple and cinnamon muffins, caramel florentines, chocolate brownies, tortilla chips, tzatziki, cous-cous, chickpea curry, hot chocolate, Genepi (a local licqour), pink champagne and beer. This wasn’t just any picnic. This was a hand-crafted, asian infused, artisan, slightly alcoholic, super luxurious Fish and Pips picnic! My dream lunch!

 

Kevin has hair and other fascinating anecdotes….

A few jolly snippets from life in the Meribubble.

 

The best band in the Alps!

 

The best photo I could get without them thinking I was weird

Four men, a fair helping of facial hair, a lot of talent, a repertoire of great rock and indie tunes and one goose-pimple inducing voice and you get none other than The Cheerleaders – a superb mountain band, both musically and aesthetically.  Yes, I think they may even be that little bit better than that band that everybody is obsessed with in Meribel and I would love it if they had the same mass following because I really think they deserve it. I’m actually shocked at myself that I haven’t mentioned these handsome, rugged chaps before in Goose Goes Skiing Part One, especially as they were such a significant part of my Friday nights down the old local last year. Last Friday was the first time they embraced the LDV this season and let’s hope there’s much more Cheerleader fun to be had. Unfortunately, Cheerleader nights have turned into a cross-dressing fashion show with all the ladies getting one euro toffee vodkas and all guys who dress up as girls also receiving these very cheap drinks. This is the cause of many a disturbing image.

Absolutely horrid

Lucy wants to marry Rhys (for his cooking skills)

I was going to write an entire blog entry about Rhys’ chicken liver parfait, although on suggestion to the parfait maker himself, I was greeted with a look of “you are seriously boring please shut up about my chicken liver parfait/food for just one day.” So instead, I thought I would keep it to one paragraph long.

Rhys’ chicken liver parfait is possibly the most delicious, pleasurable, divine, moreish thing I have ever eaten in my life. Smooth, flavoursome and ever so sweet, that, smeared onto a piece of toasted brown loaf with a dollop of fig chutney; well let’s just say I do not need anything else in life. I felt like a really needed to share that with the world. Bit upset this morning however as Rhys confiscated the parfait from me as I wanted to eat it for breakfast. He wasn’t having any of it.

Look how handsome Kevin is!

After a summer on the idyllic channel island of Alderney and quick visit to his homeland of Oz, Kevin seems to have returned to Meribel with a full head of blonde, shiny, hair and doesn’t he look amazing! I can picture him now, running across Bondi beach saving all those people from the sharks.

Blondes definitely have more fun

Epic powder ya!

I’ve realised this it is impossible to write a blog about doing a ski season without mentioning the snow and skiing. So, after attempting to not mention it because I know that in-depth discussion about what is theoretically frozen rain (did you know that there are at least eight different types of snowflake?) is rather dull, I’m gonna talk about it anyway because that is the thing that consumes our lives, affects our day, our mood and whether or not we can park vehicles properly. And besides, last year we had no snow and this year the snow is absolutely phenomenal. I would also like to make you all incredibly envious with the view from my chalet window first thing in the morning. If you look closely you can see Mr Tumnus standing at the lamppost. Please don’t tell me you actually looked?

Winter Wonderland on my doorstep

As a result of this incredible snowfall, the skiing has been absolutely fantastic and what with the three valleys being the biggest ski area in the world, I’m still discovering new runs every day. Unfortunately for me, there is now this pesky thing that people call powder (like fresh snow, very deep and skiing the powder well separates the shit skiiers from the big dogs), and as someone who is now on their second season I really should be good enough to tackle any powder that comes my way. Following Clare slightly off-piste yesterday I could only shout out in pain as the weight of this bloody powder stuff only made my thighs burn and depressed me as I realised I have a long, long way to go before I get to be on one of those extreme skiing DVDs, where I’ll be dropped off by helicopter at the top of Mount Blanc and somersault my way to the bottom in five minutes, powder flying everywhere. I can only dream. I love skiing, I do, but it’s bloody hard and the risk of severe injury is certainly higher than playing badminton (which, by the way is the fastest racket sport in the world. Don’t believe me? Google it.)

Do Bears shit in the woods? No, they shit in the mountains.

Yesterday I saw Bear Grylls in Courchevel! He was actually carving a pair of skis from a tree with his fingernails before strangling a marmott and turning it into a rather fetching Russian-style hat. And did you also know that he named his child Huckleberry? I mean, HUCKLEBERRY!!???

Skiing! In perfect conditions! On Christmas Day!!?? I’d rather be at church.

Sharing the love at Christmas

Last Christmas didn’t exactly go as planned. Imagining a perfect mountain Noël, complete with a glorious ‘what dreams are made of ski,’ a set of excited, friendly guests to serve dinner to and an all round warm and fuzzy Christmas feeling – let’s just say it wasn’t that. You may remember the iconic picture of myself cleaning out a toilet with a Santa hat on (refer to below), well that certainly summed up last Christmas – if you look deeper into the meaning of the photo it shows a juxtaposition of ideas, both the mundane and hideous chore of scrubbing skid marks and the culturally joyous occasion known as Christmas Day. (I knew all those drama essays would pay off.)

Last Christmas I gave you my elbow grease

Many factors contributed to last years Christmas flop; my horrible hangover, the fact the weather was hideous and that it was the first ski since I hit my head so I just cried all the way down the mountain like a beginner skiier and also the fact I had no guests of my own so was set to work on many an undesirable chore in the morning – it wasn’t the best Christmas ever. In fact, it was certainly my least favourite. Having said that, last year’s dinner in Chalet Du Guide was lovely and cosy although I felt so traumatised and disheartened by the rest of the day, my spirits weren’t particularly high. Thankfully, Christmas Day this year could not have been more different! I knew I should have done this second season.

Meribel Village in full glory

For one, the weather was glorious, the most beautiful sunshine reflecting over the white snowy mountains would even make Scrooge crack a smile. Secondly, I wasn’t hungover. Do you know how good that feels, to wake up in the morning and jump out of bed rather than crawl on your hands and knees to the bathroom for water before realising you’ve stepped in your contact lenses you dropped the night before? Well, it feels great. Thirdly, we had eight lovely South Africans to look after who, for adults, were really enthusiastic about Christmas Day and were even kind enough to buy us gifts.

Christmas morning with the guests

Then, because it’s absolutely compulsory if you’re in the mountains at Christmas, we went for a team ski up to the top of Saulire to enjoy not only champagne, but sandwiches and Cornflake cakes as well!! It’s the simple things in life.

Very happy at that moment

The day was then perfectly rounded off with Christmas dinner, a busy affair in Chalet Braye with twelve people to serve, and I can tell you that it’s unlikely they will ever need to eat again. The feast that Rhys prepared was without a doubt the best Christmas dinner I’ve ever eaten. If you can imagine what almost two days of preparation amounts to, it’s a regal feast of beetroot cured salmon, oysters, deep-fried calamari, pigs in blankets, immense stuffing, bread sauce, glorious potatoes, red cabbage cooked in mulled wine, mustard parsnips, sprouts with bacon bits, yummy broccoli gratin, carrots that tasted even better than carrots, home-made chutney, a phenomenal cheese-board, christmas pud drowning in Whisky and a chocolate yule log that was actually sculpted to look just like a log!! It was incredible, and hats off to Rhys’ cooking this week. It’s not every day that guests will tell a chef it is the best food they have ever eaten in their lives or that he’s better than the best chef in Johannesburg. Just because I wasn’t quite full enough, one of the guests then made me a Baileys and vanilla ice-cream milkshake with bits of Crunchie bar sprinkled on top. Sensational. You know when something tastes so good you actually find yourself closing your eyes and inhaling through your nose with pleasure? That was one of those moments. And she’s talking about food again. 

Unaware of the feast that lay ahead

 

 

The blog entry I was supposed to post before Christmas

The team in high spirits

Time passes by here like nothing else and before I know it I realise I’ve neglected my blog entirely and that my five whole fans must be sitting at their computers every night waiting in eager desperation for my next post, so for that I apologise. Like I mentioned in Goose Goes Skiing Part 1, it is especially difficult to continuously find stuff to write about that isn’t a) about snow b) about the “amazing” night out we all had or c) isn’t writing about stuff that I really shouldn’t be writing about. I did intend to bare that all in mind but somehow I have written both snow and the dull cliché which is drinking, in the same post.  It’s unavoidable. Like I heard from another seasonaire on the plane journey out here “it’s all about the sex, the snow and the booze.” I despised my fellow passenger immensely as he necked champagne and broadcast to the entire plane how much of a dude he was due to the fact he was about to begin is fifth season in Val D’isere, although it must be said he was sort of correct (that was before a French lady told him to shut up). So, just because it is really exciting for us lot out here, look at the snow!! This is myself, going right against the ski code of conduct and posing in the middle of the slope on my favourite run.

Part of the daily routine

Keeping the skiing chat brief, the snow is falling in bucket loads, the conditions are pretty perfect and I will never take snow for granted again after last season’s heat wave. Okay, ski chat over. So our first set of guests left on Friday morning leaving Rhys and I with a well deserved evening off on Friday night, an evening which was made even more enjoyable by the power cut that struck the whole of Village. Watching Love Actually in the dark, in front of a roaring log fire, accompanied by a glass of Sauvignon blanc and eating cold Cassolet out of a plastic tub actually began to feel a little too much like a perfect date. Those with guests enjoyed finding alternative methods of cooking dinner. Outside of the chalets it was somewhat like the world had ended as all that could be heard was the chairlift creaking in the wind – later we went to the LDV, a place so deserted and eerie it was comparable to a scene from Lord of the Rings as we had to cry ‘who goes there!’ with our lanterns as people entered to shelter from the storm. Not really, but it was well dark. As well as the power-cut, Saturday night was a very special day for the whole of the village as it was the day in which William Keith embraced our lives once more. William Keith, if you are unaware (and you obviously didn’t read Goose Goes Skiing 1 – shame on you), is my chef from last year – currently working on a yacht in Malta, was a bit of a character in Meribel and holds a number of fond memories in the hearts of the village people, especially the time he was attached with masking tape to the table of the Lodge Du Village.

Me with the ex-husband and looking a wee bit special

And let’s just say he hasn’t lost his scatty charms as he managed to both drive to the wrong Meribel (i don’t think there even is another Meribel) on the way out and then drive to the wrong side of Geneva on the way back and miss his flight! Nothing’s changed there. Good to see you though Willhelm. Sunday then saw the arrival of eight new guests to chalet Braye, a bunch of wonderful people from South Africa- some of which have never seen snow before so you could imagine their delight at arriving in Meribel. On a ten-day break they are all here over Christmas and Rhys and I could not ask for nicer people to host and chef for.

What happens on day off

Other highlights of the week include our one day off, always a plus point and especially because Aurigny host Tracey faced the half-yard challenge and guzzled the enormous quantity of yeasty bubbles in a pretty respectable twelve seconds. I think that was double the speed of her chef, Kevin the Australian, although it must be said he was extremely proud of his Canadian host. Hopefully now we will not just associate Canada with Nickelback and Justin Bieber but Tracy the ‘house-party’ beer monster. We now know that Kevin and Tracy are a chalet team made in heaven. Again, I apologise that I had to comment on our ‘crazy drinking’ that we take-part in out here, but I just couldn’t fail to mention the fact that a girl is now on the LDV half-yard leader board. Congratulations Tracy.

 

She didn't feel great afterwards

And finally, and I apologise now that I seem to have ended this post with another tribute to Pete, but I thought that I would show everybody how to look as cool as fuck whilst hanging out in a mountain-side cafe. Um, do you do seasonaire’s prices?

 

"This is my second season you know."

 

 

Hello mountains! Hello snow! Hello weight gain!

Chilling out in my trackie b's

I’m back!!! Yes I am. Back for the second year running – older and wiser but still completely average at skiing. I really did think that an entire twenty weeks of skiing, skiing and skiing would give me the confidence to tick the ‘advanced’ box on the ski hire form, but alas, I am certainly still an intermediate and that is probably where I will remain forever. I am however, absolutely delighted to be reunited with Meribel Village, the beautiful scenery, the good-time holiday vibe and of course, my lovely little chalet Braye – a.k.a The Wendy House (Pete’s bitter nickname reflecting his envy that Braye is small, rectangular and easy to manage unlike castle Du Guide with all its windows, stairs and turretts.)

God it was good to finally get here! With absolutely no disrespect to the affluent river-side town of Marlow and the home in which I have spent almost the entirety of my life, the feeling of driving past the pub which shant be named where i worked for three months, past the pointless parade of hairdressers, boutiques and yummy mummies and towards Gatwick airport was a liberating escape from a town in which I only waitress and have no social life. Apart from a new light on the Meribel Village roundabout and a lick of green paint on the walls of the Lodge Du Village, nothing has changed – it’s a place still as beautiful, friendly and disgustingly expensive as ever, but it’s ace. In terms of the Fish and Pips team, it is a sea of familiar faces with half of us being returners (myself, Pete, Clare, Dan and Kev) in addition to five new members (Tracy, Elena, Rhys, Chris and Jess) who really are a lovely bunch of folk. I would also like to take this opportunity to express my joy at being paired with Rhys in chalet Braye. Rhys Bennet actually worked for Fish and Pips last year in Val D’isere, so is a dab hand at chalet cheffing and is already making a name for himself in Village and even in Meribel itself for being such a gregarious character. I would love to divulge the wonders of Rhys although believe that his selection of retro jumpers and interesting dance-moves deserve nothing less than a blog entry of their own. Now that is something to look forward to. Rhys, I can not wait to spend twenty weeks running a home with you in our domestic marriage and also to try all of your delicious food. Just remember to always make one extra of everything, just in case you find yourself a canapé short like when I ate one of Will’s last year. Remember, if it’s in front of me then I will no hesitate to pick it up and eat it. I don’t even know I’m doing it.

Rhys was totally unimpressed by all the food prepared by the other Fish and Pips chefs.

I could not write a blog about the first two weeks of the season, a.k.a TRAINING, without mentioning the fabulous food. The word training, to most, will conjure images of a tough and boring time. To the Fish and Pips team, training means EATING, with a little cleaning thrown in there for exercise.

The entire team working hard

Oh I can’t tell you how much I dreaded the four test dinners we had to eat in order for the chefs to practice and show-case their skills. On top of wine-tasting and cooked breakfasts every morning (that’s cooked breakfast every morning, not wine tasting) you can imagine I was just dying for it all to be over. To name but a few my personal highlights of the dinners include chocolate delicé, cassolet, chicken liver brulée and vanilla soufflé. Not to mention the glorious canapés – sushi, scotch eggs, deep-fried Camembert, scallops, tempura prawns and mini croqué madames . Mmmmm, I remember why I came back.

Yo Sushi!

Scallop perfection

Chris’ carrot cake

And finally, from the boy who worked in a Michelin starred establishment….

The greatest cake in the world

Pete’s epic lemon sponge!! Tasted better than it looked i must say.