New Year's Eve

The six thirty starts have been made interesting this week with unquantifiable levels of snow flakes the size of tennis balls making homes for themselves on any available surface, culminating in daily diggings of the mean wheels who, like clockwork, get beeched on buckets of stubborn islands of snow. Dan and I taking it in turns to whisper up to the bleery eyed off-duty sleeper attempting to enjoy a moment's rest : "it's happened again, please will you help". So then we get to work, alongside locals with their dismountable high strength aluminium shovels, we prod + scrape + bash bits as we can with mop ends + the use of children's bum sledges as spades? so that was pretty much New Year's Eve: digging out snow + being late for everything. And then it was time to go + serve a load of unlikable young yuppie Italians, who made us stand around for excruciating lengths of time until they felt like their next course was due to be served. We were wine-less + in an unfamiliar chalet, with no back up fun to be had. So when we finally got out of there, with barely a moment of the day left, we clomped through the slush + icy rain to our local joint-desperately shaking off the bad atmosphere of the evening that we'd been fighting away absorption of and went about gathering together our scrapings of a friendship group to raise glasses with + begin storming the village with full, free driving force. I was so pleased to find Hattie- the miracle masseuse who'd pinged my limbs previous weeks before, and we danced all night. And it was incredible.**

**= needless to say, thoughts of dear friends partying back in Blighty kept sneaking up into my sporadically sentimental mind and I couldn't help longing for each and every one of them. I hope you all had a night to remember + spent most of the time launching your limbs around one another X X X