Old Wives Tales

Up early and up the hill for a last few hours skiing, cut short when it became obvious that we could barely see each other even when skiing close enough to hold hands. Skiing in a cloud is not the most fun... So the equipment went back to the hire shop early, we put the chains on the car (our fastest time yet) and headed down the valley to pack.

Tricky packing really, as we had to pack everything we don't want to take to the UK so that Mr B could take it home (the plan had been to leave it at the airport in our Audi...)

Here's a guide to the rest of the day: we drove in Car B (rented locally) to the Audi garage in Tarbes to sell Car A (our much loved, recently deceased Audi). Then on to Toulouse airport to pick up Car C (super fancy double-upgrade rental car). Then I drive the kids in Car B back to where we rented it from, while Mr B took a quick side trip back home to dump our stuff before joining us in Bagneres to take us all back to the chalet for a last night eating leftovers and watching a movie in front if a roaring fire.

Having been brought up with log fires, I'm pretty good at getting them going, but even I struggle in the absence of paper, sticks or firelighters. Happily I remembered the trick our next door neighbour Mrs Walker used to use, and lit it with sugar. (She's the old wife of the title, not me, in case there was any doubt.)

Before I forget I must commit to blip-memory the ski-names bestowed on the kids by Mr B. CarbBoy is Monte (because he zooms - Montezuma), and TallGirl is Mori (because she seems to enjoy poling so much...)