Segmenting snow

We tried to go ice-skating [Dimi + Dan might argue that technically, they did] but our defunct French must have let us down again + we missed the opening times by a few hours. After some slurps of Affligem + a game of shit head in the local French joint it couldn't go unnoticed that we were all twitching for something more; an adventure. "Come on guys" Dimi announced; "let's go get some bloody bags or something + throw our bloody selves down some hills" in full fun leadership encouragement. After an absolutely e p i c snow fight all the way up through the village, we grabbed black sacks, stale wine, head torches + some clients and headed for the home run that sat at the end of a very animated forest walk beneath a feast of shining stars. Lined up like a bunch of school children when we eventually hit our destination of descent, we grappled our crotches onto our makeshift sledges + unanimously yelled "GOOOOOO!!". Even though it's quite possible our individual carriages probably only descended a few metres at cripplingly slow speeds, we all excitedly repeatedly skipped up the hill; again and again. Venturing throughout the forest searching for new playgrounds, we'd take it in turns to slurp on wine + have a go on make shift jumps for bums, all of the time the stars would wink through the trees and light up the illuminous trails, winding so spectacularly through the sleeping isolated surroundings of Argentiere village. Shattered, with a freshly twisted knee we slowly came to terms with the fact that we weren't six anymore + that sledging is totally knackering, we walked home slightly awkwardly with dents in our backs to drink tea + say sweet farewells to Jess.