Slip-sliding away (and springing back)

There are times when I feel I ought to get out more. Much as I love life at home and the pleasures of domesticity, sometimes this can lead to a narrow focus and a distinct unwillingness to move beyond the comfort zone. While I accept that I may be missing out on things, I don't actually want to be uncomfortable. Who does? I choose pleasure over pain, and the nice over the nasty unless there is a very good reason to do otherwise.

This morning I felt like a shy little primrose uprooted from its mossy woodland setting and plonked in a dangerous, great-big-outdoorsy sort of place, because I had to have a skiing lesson. Now, this may not sound bad, but for me it was A Big Thing. I've never been the slightest bit attracted to sliding down a mountainside, and breaking limbs holds no interest, either.

 

My wardrobe displays a lack of trendy skiwear (my typical outdoor clothing tends to mud-spattered wellies and venerable old jacket with pockets full of dog biscuits); though I love the colour blue, it's not the black-and-blue of bruises which I go for, and I like to be in control, not propelled by forces beyond me down even the gentlest of gradients. 'Hurtling' is not a word I care for.

But needs must, and I went along to the awfully steep dry ski slope carpeted with harsh and unforgiving mats, and I had a go. I'd love to be able to say that I glided (glid?) gracefully down, perfectly balanced, at one with every contour line and dip. Alas, friends, it was not so. I must have been good entertainment for the onlookers -  if you get your laughs from watching others' misfortunes, that is. I fell and I fell again. Righting myself was a performance. My skis crossed too much or not enough, my bottom took a beating, my wrists are beginning to shout  "what did you do to us?" as I can barely type.

It was not a pretty sight. I'm told it's easier on snow, more pleasure, less pressure. I don't quite buy it - in the sense of handing over the hard-earned for goods and services worth having, no. "Was it fun?" asked Alice who is already an accomplished skier and didn't have to go to That Place this morning. I wouldn't quite describe it in those terms.

"I saw her laugh", said Harriet, who joined me in the lesson and did the gliding that I am, clearly, unsuited to do. It was less a sound of mirth and more an expression of ironic vindication - I knew I wouldn't make much of a fist of it, and I Was Right.

So, I'm going to perfect the art of relaxing in a ski resort without injury or humiliation. I shall be reading, and maybe taking an odd photograph, and finishing the sock I started knitting ages ago, and if there's good hot chocolate going I'm willing to sample it purely for the purposes of testing its beneficial effect on the body and soul. In short, I shall be putting myself at the disposal of medical science to demonstrate how good it is for a person to remain soundly within their comfort zone.

Comments

[Charity]

Oh, I feel your pain! My oldest recently learned to ski on a school trip, and has now been after me to learn so that we can go together. :0) Not being naturally athletic, I'm cringing inside!

[Alice]

Don't you worry, Cornflower readers; if necessary, I shall see to it myself that Mummy skis in Switzerland at least once. *Evil chuckle* Oh, and the wrists beginning to shout "what have you done to us?"- repetitive strain injury brought on by excessive computer use, no doubt. ;) Not that I can really talk about excessive computer use. I post comments here in the delicious knowledge that a few metres away there will be the "BSSSSH!" sound heralding an incoming email on Mummy's computer as soon as I click "Post".

[Avice]

Having just returned from a skiiing weekend -- the first time on a mountain in 10 years -- I can understand how you felt. Skiing is wonderful, but requires a fair bit of nerve. It took me the better part of two days to get off the beginner slopes and I was, at one time, a very good skiier. A second try might be worth it, though....

[Kelly]

Loving the thought of a digital duet, posting and commenting, between your computer and Alice's. I'm quietly campaigning for nordic/cross country (rather than downhill) skiing as the family winter sport....And gorgeous early spring flowers.