It’s Official

It’s Official. We are the worst skiers on the slopes. Well, if it is not official, then it ought to be. We have spent enough effort making sure that we struggle down all slopes, being overtaken by 3 year olds and generally upsetting the flow of the skiers gracefully and skilfully gliding down the Piste.

However, there are moments, when this is in doubt. I nearly overtook a ski instructor today with two 4 year olds, before they decided to ski off down to the end Station. Occasionally we witness a skier out for the first or second time, when we can enjoy a brief moment of triumph.

There are many consolations. We enjoy being outside. We stop frequently to look at the snow covered mountains. Even on a gloomy day like today, the scenery is spectacular (unless the light is so bad that you don’t know if you are moving or not).

So we will continue to plod up and down, trying not to annoy the snowboarders too much and dreaming of black runs (very difficult) and other ski resorts waiting to be conquered.

Where Have the Ducks Gone?

This afternoon, it was minus 5 degrees outside, and the sun was shining over the lake at Laax. 3 o’clock in the afternoon. There was some left over bread from lunch, so off we went, to walk around the lake and feed the ducks.

Walking over the lake would be more accurate. The ice on the lake is a foot thick. The local Gemeinde (Council) has built an extra ice hockey practice pitch and an ice skating track around the outside.

There is a small ski slope for 2 – 4 year olds. You need to pay attention here or a 3year old on a toboggan may take your legs away, as he attempts to reach the bottom of the slope in one go.

But where are the ducks? Ice on the lake means “No Water”, which means “No Ducks”. What foolish people we are. Even so, where are they? Are they hiding? Have they flown south for the skiing season?

Back to the apartment later with a cup of tea and a jam sandwich with the bread not given to the ducks.

Prime Numbers Fight Back

Prime Numbers get a raw deal. But these ugly and easy forgotten numbers are making a fight back on the ski slopes of Laax. Generous and easy ski runs (which are the easiest) have prime numbers.

Ski run 29 is from the foot of the glacier ("Vorab") at 9,000 feet to Fuorcla. A run of over 2 miles kms, and a vertical distance of 1,750 feet, with the usual marvellous views of the mountains.

Run 31 starts from the same point and runs in the opposite direction, 3 miles long. and gently winds itself down to Scansinas at 6,200 feet.

Run 53 is a wonderful run down to the valley at Falera, provided, of course, that it is open (being lower down, the quality of the snow is highly variable).

You must look out now for ski runs with Prime Numbers. Prime Number ski runs will not be forgotten. Please report great prime number ski runs on the comments to this blog.

another competition - What's your favourite song?

It is not uncommon to be asked about your favourite song. It is more uncommon to be asked this on a skiing lesson, as you stare down the steep and icy part of a "Red Run" (pretty hard). Apparently the idea is that by singing as you ski down, you will forget the difficulty of the slope, as you exercise your vocal chords.

We were asked this question by our ski instructor, while actually perched on the slope itself. All four of us had difficulty in thinking of our answer. Not surprising, when our minds were full of terror, while trying to put into practice what we had just been told.

What would you sing to take your mind off (say) white water rafting, or bungy jumping or parachute jumping. I settled for "When I'm 64" by the Beatles, which I thought was nearly appropriate. This could be heard by the skiier in front. The suggestion to him was that "I will survive" would be a good idea (although not by me, I should add).

What song would you choose for this moment of fear? By making this decision now, it could save from having to do so in a moment of extreme stress. Suggestions and decsions in the "Comments" please.

I am famous or have "Swiss" reinvented customer service

I have always joked that I am constantly mistaken for Mel Gibson. You can see the likeness. I thought that my dream had come true in November, when I was checking in at London City Airport. At the check-in, I was asked "Aren't you someone famous?". "I don't think so, but I am always being mistaken for Mel Gibson" (There I go again, with the usual line).

"I'll remember who you look like in a minute". I am beside myself in anticipation. What will she say. Pierce Bosnan, perhaps. Sean Connery, without a beard, surely. I'll settle for Ewan McGregor. But no. She can't rememember. "I am having a coffee over there", I says, in case she remembers.

Perhaps it is a new line in making your customers feel good. Not a bad idea. Alas it was not to be. Careful though. She might have mistaken me for one of those seven little fellows with Snow White, probably the miserable old one.....you know......whatisname. I have forgotten.

Google Street

Yesterday I discovered "Google Street". I wrote on Facebook straightaway, "I can see the rubbish bins in my Dad's road". Fantastic. But I am reaching that age, when all this new technology is puzzling. Not threatening or worrying, just puzzling. What is it all for? What is its purpose?

Of course I had to write it on Facebook. I am just not sure why. (Facebook used to give me a headache after 5 minutes. I am beginning to get the hang of it now, although, I still cannot find my own wall)

However, there is an explanation. We oldies (over 40) are not meant to understand this. In fact, we are not even supposed to use them. I read somewhere authoritative (probably the Daily Mail), that we are sad if we have a facebook account.

I am happy now. I am OK with being sad. It makes a change from being a middle aged miserable old something. My next target had been to become old and grumpy. Having made some progress to this goal, I have decided to make my aim to be Sad.

Now where is my iPod?

No one was using a mobile phone

I was sure that my eyes were deceiving me. No one on the tram was using a mobile phone. This was the the No. 13 tram, you understand, in the evening rush hour in Central Zurich. I checked again. I must have been mistaken.

I looked up and down the tram again, expecting, almost hoping, to see someone among the 100+ people using the ubiquitous and essential accessory. I was waiting to have a sense of normality restored. No - still no moble phones being used.

There was only one explanation. I had been transported back to 1982. I am sure that the same tram would have been running. No - there was a second possibility. The 1990s and 2000s had never happened. Equally plausible (or implausible, I hear you say).

Bahnhof (Station) Enge arrived. Normal Service was restored. People on the platform talking to friends, family, colleagues on their mobiles. Phew. Quite unnerving. Next thing we'll discover that Facebook was an illusion.

Our Computer has crashed

We have been cut off from the outside world. We are prisoners in our own reality, unable to contact the virtual world of the internet on our normal computer. It has happened. Our hard disc has crashed. At least that is what we think has happened.

Everything is so much harder now. We have Hazel's notebook, which provides a window into this world on which we have become so dependant (This blog is being updated from the notebook).

All is not lost. We are hoping that the back ups made a few weeks ago, will work and perhaps Domenique, with his own compute shop, will be able to save our photographs from our Egypt and Jordan holiday.

In the meantime, we will make do. It's not so bad after all. A bit of improvisation here and there and we will get by. More news in a few days time.