A good biffday

When I think of the biffdays that have been great in my life, my 18th always comes to mind – because that is when I got my first pair of skis and boots from my ma and pa. Only once have I used my skis on dry slope surface – because at the age of 18 you can’t possibly wait for the next ski trip. I took the day off work, I drove to Rossendale, I paid 40 quid for two hours skiing but it was a Wednesday and no-one was checking so I spent the entire day going up and down the same 60 metres of carpet on a small windy hill on the edge of Lancashire. At closing time, I threw my gear in the “little s**t” aka Gustav-Sylvester-the-fiesta and drove back to Manc probably to get drunk with Tanya who had returned from Leeds Uni for the Christmas holidays – though that part of the story is obviously not so memorable because we were really drunk at the time. It was probably 42nd Street or the Roxy... or was that Sheffield? Iiiiii dunno.

The point being I don’t think I’ve had such a good day’s ski birthdaying since. Not until this year. Last year we skied but I think we had to wait until the next day at work to get a shower afterwards. The year before I went car shopping for a new Canadian automobile.

This year my day started with a bar of chocolate (not yet eaten) a gorgeous free-trade jewellery box hand carved to look like a book and a pair of very expensive sheepskin slippers. YES they are old lady slippers but hell, old ladies know their stuff when it comes to slippers and my feet are ALWAYS cold – correction WERE always cold.

After breakfast in my favourite coffee shop (provided free by the wonderful staff – thanks for the birthday treat girls!) hubby and I picked up a friend (K) at the base and drove up in jovial chatty state. K got ticketed-up and we skied and skied and skied from 10 am till 1pm and did a different run each time. The snow was not so great, but that made for exciting skiing, dodging the rocks and following the signs at the top of blind summits – the “mind the dirt” signs.

Slightly tired and getting a little cold, we skied to the lodge where we ate very yummy Chicken Ceasar salad (there’s something about fresh air makes me all healthy and their CCS is SOOOOOooooo good with finely cut, crispy hot bacon and GOOD sauce). Lunch was satisfyingly expensive – the joys of having a proper job.

In the “Hog on the Hill” caf we bumped into S and his family. They’re from North Yorks originally and have the cutest little kiddies. His daughter was embarking on her second ski season – though she only had one lesson last year at the tender age of 3 ¾. So when hubby and K were done skiing and getting cold, I went and got warm by doing what’s best for warming one up – helping little people learn something new. I think I provided a welcome reprieve for mum who was on free-heel skis and struggling with the logistics of juggling those and a 4 ¾ -year old. We touched toes, stretched like a cat and squished cherries in our boots and we managed many a big pizza, played red-light-green-light and did lots of high-fives. These all, of course, are Canadian ski instructor association approved techniques and should not be tried unsupervised at home.

After we returned K to her car, we drove home, drank tea, ate sticky buns, cooked ourselves at 40 degrees C in the tub for 20 minutes then went to the Inn for venison and apple and peach crumble and just the one glass of wine because I drank myself impressively into my birthday and I didn’t want to feel any older coming out the other end of it – though I felt much younger during my birthday than any other time in the last two months.

And that is my kinda birthday – a rejuvenating one.