A prophesy for a fantasy, the curse of a vivid mind
A very cheery Bonjour from poolside in Chamonix. No, of course I’m not sorry. I’ll be back at my desk in Cardiff this time next week and I’m sucking the very last drops of joy out of the next few days, thank you. A very nice Serveuse has just delivered a tremendous Daiquiri to my sunlounger and it’s so sharp it’s making my eyes water.
It’s not all cocktails by the pool and popping in and out of the hot tub here, though. No siree. There’s been plenty of shouting at runners too. It’s UTMB week here and whilst it’s a bit of a circus if you’re not a trail runner, it’s a Very Big Deal if you are. I should have been running the OCC today, but stress fracture etc etc. Nonetheless, behold the beautiful number that I should have been wearing:
I couldn’t resist picking it up yesterday – I was far too grumpy to pick up my Spanish one – and I’ve been poncing about in my t shirt today, kidding myself that I’m actually still a runner. My legendary lack of patience is going to be tested to its limits soon, when I’m at the stage of being able to start doing some running again and have to actually wind my neck in. Sigh.
We’ve had a brilliant week here so far. The first two nights were spent at La Folie Douce – a chain of hotels that entertains its guests with – amongst other things – dancing girls in the winter. In summer you get trampolines, so whilst my feminist sensibilities remained unruffled, my pelvic floor decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and that sitting at the bar was, on balance, the wisest way to spend my time. We’re now in a much more civilised hotel where nobody dances at all.
Our amazing friend Helen won her age category in the MCC on Monday and we spent a fab day high up in the Swiss alps supporting her. She came over for cocktails yesterday and frankly, the less said about that, the better. Lunchtime cocktails with no food is something I’m far too old for, these days. Cocktails in a dark bar after a long lunch…that’s much more my speed.
Les Gets already feels a million miles away. Chamonix is a stepping stone between there and home and it’s a beautiful one. On Sunday we start the two day drive back to the Motherland and whilst my heart aches a little bit at the thought of leaving the mountains, it lifts considerably at the prospect of seeing those I love again. It’s been a remarkable summer and almost entirely unexpected. Sometimes that submission thing can take you to places you hadn’t dreamed of.
That’s it from me for today. Time for a hot tub, a shower then another stint of supporting before dinner. The runners coming in now and through the evening have been on their feet since early this morning and they need our support, in my opinion, far more than the admittedly amazing folk at the sharp end of the race need our validation.
