When Mike, my husband, informed me that he'd arranged a weekend away for us I was ecstatic. It was winter. I could see us now, curled up in front of a log fire in a cabin in the woods. It'd be fun.
After I'd enthusiastically agreed it was a bit hard to find a way to say "over my dead body" when he added that it was a skiing weekend. Mike skis the way a fish swims. Easy and natural. I ski the way a fish ice skates.
So my idyllic weekend was going to be a time when Mike soared majestically over hill and dale while I fumbled and fell down the kiddies slopes. Assuming the kiddies slopes weren't too steep for me.
We rolled up to the ski-lodge on a Friday night. Mike immediately pounced on the chart of ski-runs, noting the black diamond and double black diamond slopes. I looked up the green circle slopes and asked if they had anything simpler. The ski-instructor just laughed, assuming that I was kidding. I tripped him as he went to walk away and managed to tread on his hand while helping him up.
The next morning Mike hustled me out of bed nice and early. I'd have been quite content to stay there for another hour or six but he insisted that we get up and onto the slopes. I managed to slow him down a little by lingering over breakfast but then he was chasing me out of the building and onto the slopes.
Mike is reasonably considerate. He had located the three easiest slopes and urged me to practise on them.
"Start with the easiest," he told me. "In the afternoon, switch to the next hardest. By tomorrow you'll be doing the last slope without any problems. All you need is a bit of practice."
And a lot of luck and some co-ordination that seemed to go missing when I started sliding. I know the theory of the damn things and I can actually get around on them, slowly. For some reason, once I pick up speed, everything just seems to go haywire.
I pushed off down the kiddies slope, smiling gamely and waving goodbye to Mike who was heading off to the harder slopes. A mistake, waving. I promptly fell flat on my face. I staggered upright, gritted my teeth and started downhill.
For the next hour I glided gently down the hill and then climbed back up to glide gently down again. Gliding gently down without falling built up my confidence. Seeing little children go streaking past me deducted from that confidence. All in all, confidence wise, it was a draw.
After lunch, faithfully following Mike's instructions I moved on to the next hardest slope. I was actually relieved to find that I'd probably have it to myself. The little brutes from the first slope had all seemed to move on to the third hardest slope, and they were welcome to it.
I was sailing down the slope, moving at a respectable speed for a change, when disaster struck. A rabbit. Would you believe it? A blasted bunny came tearing out of the trees to my right and cut straight across in front of me. What the hell was he doing there? He should have been in his warren, sound asleep. Not attacking innocent skiers.
I swerved to miss him. Silly I know. Rabbits have much better swerving control that I do. If I'd kept in a straight line he'd probably have run around me in a circle and hopped away, waving his little paw. As it was I swerved to the right to go behind him, turned my head to keep track of where Bugs was going, then looked forward again to realise I'd turned too far and was about to plough into the trees at full speed.
One part of skiing I had down to a fine art. I could trigger the quick release mechanism on the skis faster than anyone I know. Practice is what does it. I dumped the skis and ploughed face first into the snow, sliding across it and under the trees. I lay there, feeling stunned, and then feeling infuriated when those damned skis I'd released came sliding up next to me.
I was looking at those stupid skis, knowing I was going to have to strap them back on, when another pair of skis slid up next to me. These ones were occupied though. I looked up to see who it was, and had to look higher than expected. The guy must have been well over six foot tall. Blonde and handsome. If I hadn't had Mike I'd have been flirting like crazy.
"Don't go moving anything until I make sure that you're all right," he said, and his deep voice sent shivers down my spine. "You came quite a cropper. Rabbits can be a menace, can't they?"
While he was talking he'd shed his own skis and was crouching down next to me. He very quickly and efficiently ran his hands over my arms and legs and neck, checking to ensure that there was nothing seriously wrong. While he checked me over he chattered to me.
