“Fuck!” I said loudly.

“Fuck, and indeed, shit!” replied my mate Steve.

It was our final day in the snow and we had just realised that by skiing and snowboarding across the Three Valleys from Courchevel to Val Thoren (the worlds largest ski area by the way. It is fucking massive, in a hugely massive way) we had left ourselves a rather long journey to get our final chair lift home.

This led to one of our group, on their first ever skiing holiday, having to adopt the ‘point and go’ approach to various red runs as we made our way back to the cable car we needed in Meribel.

We went fast. Very fast. Faster than felt safe after a week of snowboarding and partying. Buttock-clenchingly fast. At one point I thought we had actually travelled back in time, but clearly this was not the case as we arrived at the cable car just three minutes late to be told, “C’est finit” from the smug French lift attendant.

“Come on mate, it’s fucking miles back to Courchevel, we need to get on that cable car!” I pleaded, having given up speaking French two days previously.

“Zer is nussing I can do” he replied unapologetically.

“The last cable car is just there, I can almost touch it, the people in it are looking at us waving, the complete twats. Please?”

“Non, Je suis désolé”

I was getting sick and fucking tired of French people telling me they are sorry.

Anyway, this is how we ended up paying 65 Euro’s for a taxi to get home from Meribel to Courchevel 1850 on the last day of our holiday.

What a nice way to finish eh?

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