You Treat This Place Like a Hotel
Years ago, somebody told me you don’t get hangovers in the mountains. They lied.
We went to visit some friends a couple of days ago. They own the very lovely Chalet Maison Jaune in Les Houches, where we stayed for a week way back in 2010. Helen and Leighton are generous hosts (see also: enablers) and the inevitable happened – I spent yesterday on the sofa, pretending to work and squawking periodically until Nick marched me down to Le Tyrol, filled me with pizza and told me to shut up. Hangover notwithstanding, it was a lovely day, which included a trip to the trail running mecca – Chamonix.
When we got home, Next Door was deserted. No sign of teenagers, twenty-somethings or anybody else. However, our own house guests were making themselves slightly too at home for my liking.
I’ve had a moth living in my bedroom for a few days and it doesn’t appear to be the brightest of sparks. In exasperation the other night, I switched the lights off in the bedroom to entice it into the lovely, well lit living room in an attempt to avoid any repetition of the previous night’s flying-into-my-face-every-five-minutes shenanigans.
Alas, it lay down on my bed for a sleep instead. Having eaten a hole in my t shirt while we were out. This is just plain rude when you’re getting free board and lodging, frankly.
Imagine my joy, then, when I was brushing my teeth, minding my own business and spied a huge grasshopper shinning up my curtains.
I have no problem with beasties of any type really, but this was getting a bit much. It sat on the curtain pole waving its antennae at me and making itself at home.
The next morning, it was nowhere to be seen. For the next 24 hours it went for terror tactics of appearing randomly in the bedroom or bathroom when I least expected it – including marching up to the top of the bathroom cabinet and pushing stuff off it. A grasshopper to stay is one thing. A grasshopper with a bad attitude is entirely another and when I arrived home last night full of hangover curing pizza to find La Sauterelle having a snooze on my pillow, I decided it was time to end our relationship.
In unrelated news, the moth is no longer anywhere to be seen.
I’m planning my first big run tomorrow, up to the top of Pointe d’Angolon at 2,090 metres. It’s a tough climb up and I’m actually quite nervous. Preparation is key, so as well as the kit checks I’ve been doing, I’m taking the additional precaution of heading down into the village for tea and raspberry tart, just to make sure I’ve got enough carbs in me. For science.