I, champ

25th of December. Sun, snow, and most punters working their ways through turkeys, away from the slopes. Perfect conditions, then, to flex my skiing muscle.

My entourage was here, of course. Three ladies this time - Ella, mum, grand-maman.

Dad was getting a bit nervous. He said that, with just 20 months (corrected age) and no material skiing experience, I'm falling behind.

BS. Just look at me there: raw talent.

After a good half-hour doing the run, I took the team to a well deserved break. This is Crans-Montana after all. Alcohol, gossip and show-offs are never far away.

Ella got her own hot drink, too.

Second run after the break. More awesomeness.

In actual fact, my performance did attract some attention from passers-by. Mum and dad got a lot of questions about my age, previous training, etc. Mostly from other parents grappling with their 7-year old (ie near-on geriatric) children on skis. Some people shot movies. More talked. All nodded in appreciation.

Fame, at last.

An insider's guide to winter sports

Time to debunk a few myths. It ain't that hard.

First, make sure there's enough snow. Check.

Second, look unfazed whatever happens. Really important, that.

Third, always, always have a back-up plan to get you out of trouble. Or if you get bored.

Fourth, eat appropriately. Usually the kind of stuff that'll make your arteries cringe: melted cheese, dried meat, lots of butter, chocolate.

Finally, know when to kick back. There's no substitute for beauty sleeps.

Remember me when you shine on the slopes this Northern winter.

Little Jay Kay

How the Northern half lives

Not to put too fine a point on it, the Northern half lives in bitter cold.

An under tons of snow. About two metres at 2000m, 80cm around here. Reportedly, these are excellent conditions for my 'initiation to the white stuff'.

I wasn't quite sure where the thing was going at first. Lots of dressing up with thick, heavy and mostly movement-impairing gear.


Moon, here I come.


As if that wasn't enough, you got to strap on yet another set of appendices, called skeez.


Slippery things, them.


We did quite a bit of exercise. Well, if I'm honest, Dad did most of the lifting and running about. My mission, he said, was to stay upright.


Too easy!!


For those who've heard me recently, that picture is me saying Woaaaaaaawww.

Everyone agreed I did brilliantly. Felt quite chuffed, too!

I did so well in fact that I went out at night for more slippery fun. Complete with a silly hat.

Easy riding

Lovin' it!

Phew!

Another epic trip. You'll be glad to learn that I behaved in an exemplary fashion. Again.
And almost.

Everything started well, on a beautiful Saturday in Sydney. One of the very few we had this summer, in fact. As real estate agents say, this picture is the actual view on the day.


The whole family was looking forward to a new adventure. Except Ella, whose thought at the time, as most of the time, was 'seriously, when's my next feed?'

Our dear James was there to pick us up. He had been warned of loads of luggage. He came prepared. Just look at the size of that thing. A motorcade.

The lot of us settled down nicely. I felt for mum. She didn't get a booster seat. Ella, on the other hand, got a bit too much of a seat. You lightweight.

So mum packed her in tight. As you do.

The rest was what you'd expect from a long flight.

Suspicious food.

Little spies.

Naps...

... and trashy awakenings.

Phew!