by Elizabeth Coughlan

Created on: August 18, 2009

"Darlings, why do you need me?" is my usual question when the subject of our annual skiing vacation is mentioned; and the reply is always the same, "It wouldn't be a family vacation without you!" At that, I feel warm and loved, and agree to two weeks of hell in the interests of family unity.

Standing and shivering on cold, windy mountainsides has never been my idea of fun. Added to which, I have never mastered the art of skiing well enough to follow the rest of the family down any, but the most elementary, slopes. What I can't understand is why, having safely reached the bottom of the piste, any sane person would wait, buttocks rampant, to be goosed by the button lift in order to start the agony all over again.

Did I say agony? "Screaming agony" would be a better description of the excruciating pain I associate with gamboling with my loved ones in the snow. Skiing uses muscles that barely exist in sensible people engaged in normal everyday activities. Consequently, when I should be dressing for aprs ski, I can barely shuffle from the bathroom to my bed, and I invariably miss the only enjoyable part of the vacation.

I have always dreaded each day. Even a gorgeous ski instructor loses his charm when you are unable to execute the simplest turn without falling over. ...And handsome, craggy, faces don't look quite the same when they are wearing an air of disdain at your feeble efforts. Most of all I hate the feeling of inadequacy that I associate with skiing. I have never experienced that exhilaration that everyone talks about, for me it's more like a near-to-tears depression.

Now all that misery is in the past! Lately, I have devised a strategy to make the whole exercise more bearable. At dawn, I ride in the gondola to the first level with my enthusiastic kin and wave goodbye to them as they ascend to ever more dizzying heights. Then I take the gondola back down again and leave my skis with the lift operator while I spend the morning shopping. By lunchtime, I'm back at the first level hut, feigning exhaustion, while I hear the morning exploits of my intrepid family. Then I wave them goodbye again before I'm off for a sauna and a Jacuzzi, while I await their return to the hotel. So far, they haven't discovered my little ploy. They see more of me than they ever did, and we are all much happier.

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