Lecht

I've only ever skied in Scotland, never for more than 1 day at a time and usually not when the best snow has fallen but on the weekend closest too that date. Hence most, if not all of my skiing experience has involved patches of ice, sleety drizzle and grey skies.

However I'd heard how good the snow cover was this week and had seen the forecast for today, so last night I suggested to my lovely husband that'd I'd love to go and asked if he thought we could make that happen. At 11pm I was still dithering. It was a daft idea really, I hadn't told my eldest boy who I was suggesting I take, we'd need to leave just after 7 and I had no idea where all our kit was. But then, often the daft ideas turn out to be the best.

So, this morning I woke my eldest boy up in the middle of the night, placed a cup of tea by his bed, and asked if he wanted to join me on the slopes.

Some rushed breakfast, a quick pack of necessary clothes and an hour and 10 minute drive later and we were getting sized up for skis, beating what were to become long queues by just a few minutes.

It was -4 degrees when we arrived at the lecht just as the tows opened, but the sun was already so strong that it never felt cold.

We skied on fresh powder on the nursery slopes and green runs all morning, had bowls of soup on the outdoor balcony of the cafe at lunch and tried a couple of blues in the afternoon. It turns out my eldest is pretty good.

What a day. It might not be France, but a day like that in our own mountains just over an hours drive from my house. I'll take that.

Big thanks to my lovely husband too, who took care of the other two and dealt with all the normal weekend logistics by himself to let us go.