For when it comes right down to it, there’s no use trying to pretend
So it turns out we’ve been here for 10 days already, and how that happened I have no idea. Perhaps I’m in deep denial about being here at all because I have some outmoded vision that in the winter, there should be Snow, whereas right now there is mud and grass and slush and it mainly looks like Scotland.
And before you all start trolling me, I KNOW it’s much better in Scotland right now. And Wales. And Leicester. And London. Thank you all for your kind pictures of your 3 flakes of snow – including the ones on El Floofo’s head – and now please do one.
Anyway, it’s raining here at 1100 metres. It’s hoofing with snow at 1300 and above, but you don’t want to know about that, do you, because then you won’t be able to take the piss any more?
Nonetheless, like the trooper I am, I ran 5 miles in it this morning. We’ll gloss over the fact that it’s my favourite kind of running weather because that doesn’t suit my Brave Soldier narrative at all, but it turns out that aside from one or two more niche things, it was what I needed most in the world right now. I couldn’t see, I was being blown sideways and I was mainly eating hailstones, which are not high on my list of substances that I’d choose to ingest. And it was awesome. My knee seems to be coping with gentle downhill running again, which clearly means my itchy trigger finger will have to be strapped to something, before I enter All The Races.
Speaking of strapped to something (we weren’t, but we are now), I’ve been pretty much fully bound to my desk this week, with very little respite apart from the occasional quick burn on my skis and the odd foray to Madame’s for cake and grands bisous.
The lack of snow has made this easier to bear but to be honest, there’s very little to bear – I’m here, in the most beautiful place, and even if I can’t bend the weather to my not unsubstantial will, it’s a remarkable way to live and work.
Rugby returns this weekend. Let’s see if Wales can beat Italy this year, shall we? I’ve brought my vintage rugby shirt to wear to the pub tomorrow, from the days when we were sponsored by Brains and occasionally Won Things. So for any of you who missed the opportunity to take the piss out of me about snow, all is not lost. Welsh rugby is truly the gift that keeps on giving.
