Getting ready for my first skiing holiday

I’ve recently come home from my first ever skiing holiday.

Skiing. Me. At 51 years old.

I never thought I would go skiing. It wasn’t something I wanted to do. The way I saw it, skiing was for other people. Rich people. Posh people. Adventurous people. Sociable people. Not for me.

(There are people who might consider me either rich or posh or both. These things are all relative. For me, I was neither rich enough nor posh enough for skiing.)

But my husband ALWAYS wanted to go skiing. And I don’t think I realised just how much he really wanted to go.

He went on a school ski trip when he was 15 or 16 and it was an absolute highlight of his teenage years. He lost his dad when he was 13, so his teenage years weren’t easy ones. Positive things probably stand out far more for him than they do for people who had an easier time.

He told us how he was absolutely determined on his ski trip to get the silver award, not the bronze one. He’s still got that silver award in his bedside drawer 35 years later. It has survived numerous house moves in that time. Could I tell you where souvenirs of my own childhood are? No, I couldn’t. They’re long gone.

Added to his own special memories of skiing is the fact that he’s surrounded by people who go skiing every year. He moves in different circles to me. As a freelancer working home alone, and with friends who are largely not posh or rich, I don’t know people who go skiing. The only person I know is my son’s girlfriend, who goes with her family, and my husband’s cousin. But my husband has wealthy work contacts and it feels like every winter they all go skiing. Which reminds him every winter that he still hasn’t been skiing.

Every couple of years, he would announce ‘We’re going skiing next year!’ and he really believed it. But then he priced it up for four or five people and the cost was prohibitive. The kids knew that when their dad announced they were going skiing, that it wasn’t actually going to happen. Luckily, they didn’t mind.

But now we’ve got an empty nest. Skiing for two people is still very expensive, but it’s not as expensive as it is for four or five people.

So my husband booked a holiday for the two of us.

I’ll admit, I was nervous. I’m quite clumsy, so I was sure I would get injured. I also get a bit nervous about travel and the unknown. I’ve seen pictures and videos of skiing, but somehow I still couldn’t imagine what it would really be like.

But my husband was so excited.

He booked it all himself. When I took lessons at Snozone in Milton Keynes, they recommended not booking it all yourself first time and just doing a package – because there’s a lot to remember (and therefore a lot to forget). There’s lift passes, lessons and ski hire, in addition to the usual flights, accommodation and transfers. You need to have the right sort of clothes and enough of it. But, by talking to his cousin and his colleague, my husband pieced it all together.

The Snozone in Milton Keynes isn’t close to home at all, so I only had a couple of lessons. The first one was all day and I felt very stressed when I arrived. I didn’t even know how to put ski boots on. I was the oldest in my group by 25 years. But the instructor was amazing and very patient. She explained absolutely everything and no question was too stupid. Surprisingly, for a 51 year old, clumsy, slow learner, I wasn’t actually the worst in the group. Although I did fall over a lot! I fell off the travelator (the most basic lift), the button lift, while actually skiing and just while standing still. Twenty minutes before the end of the lesson, I decided I’d had enough, so I stopped. I told the instructor I’d given up.

“No, you haven’t given up, you’ve decided what is right for you.”

I went back for a three-hour lesson a few weeks later. This one was slightly more advanced, so I was the bottom of the class. But I did remember everything I’d previously been taught. And I did fall over A LOT. But I didn’t fall off either the travelator or the button lift. So that was progress.

And my husband? He booked himself in for an intermediate class when I did my beginner class. When he told them how long it was since he’d skied, they said he would probably have to move to the beginner class. But he didn’t have to. He’d forgotten nothing from when he was a teenager. He was skiing with confidence and loving every second of it.

How would we got on in the Alps? I’ll tell you about that next time…