I've just come back from skiing in Verbier, with all my closest family - parents, husband, brother, sister, her son and new husband, my brother's best friend, Dad's first wife, and her long-term partner. I think it's fair to say that the lovely people who looked out for us in the fantastic chalet were bemused by the family dynamic, and wondering why there were so many Mrs Lords!
As my brother said, 'What could possibly go wrong?'.
As my brother said, 'What could possibly go wrong?'.
The skiing was amazing. After a very warm spring, the snow gods decided to dump heavily on the mountains a couple of days prior to our arrival. And then the sun shone again. The conditions couldn't have been more perfect.
My beautiful sister, Caroline. We got lost from the boys and found ourselves on a winding track that went down, down and down through the trees. It was very pretty, but we didn't have a clue where we'd end up, so were happily surprised (amazed) to find ourselves skiing straight to one of the many mountainside bars, where some of the boys (or more accurately, men) were waiting with beers.
At the chalet, we drank champagne in the outdoor hot-tub, swam in the indoor pool, laughed, bickered, drank some more, ate some of the best food any of us had ever tasted, sang along to my husband's piano and brother's ukulele and slept off our hangovers (well, some of us - there were a few early birds that put me to shame).
With both my siblings and my husband, all trying not to touch limbs underwater.
And then there were the lunches. Such happy lunches. The views!
My wonderful parents.
And then... I took this (almost unprecedented) selfie just before skiing all the way down from the top, alone. All the other skiers had gone, but I wanted to stay and have a few more drinks with all four parents and Andy. I first skied when I was three years old, so didn't have any fear. In fact, I was singing to myself in the chairlift up to the peak, all aglow with lunch, mountains, sunshine, family and complete happiness.
But... joy does tend to come before a fall.
It didn't hurt too much to start with, although I felt a twang in my foot. But it completely buggered my confidence, to the extent that I snowplowed (the shame!) all the way down, the pain increasing as I descended. When I found myself at the top of a very steep black run, I just sat down, took my skis off and wept. Then a beautiful boarder girl asked me if I was OK (it's always women who stop to help). She was Dutch, her name was Tina, she was on holiday with her banker buddies from Canary Wharf, and she was completely lovely. Tina, if you ever read this - THANK YOU.
By the time we made it to the bar, my foot was hurting so much that I couldn't put any weight on it.
Sooo... the following day, the Swiss doctors were brilliant. Torn ligament in my foot - fairly simple, one might imagine. But no. They kept doing X-rays. So many X-rays that I was starting to wonder if I'd done really bad damage to my foot.
But they kept laughing. And then it transpired that the X-ray had revealed a needle - a sewing needle (you can make out the eye) embedded quite closely against my fourth metatarsal.
I mean - really? WTF? How could I not have noticed stepping on a needle - however many years ago it happened? The doctors are still none the wiser.
But... joy does tend to come before a fall.
It didn't hurt too much to start with, although I felt a twang in my foot. But it completely buggered my confidence, to the extent that I snowplowed (the shame!) all the way down, the pain increasing as I descended. When I found myself at the top of a very steep black run, I just sat down, took my skis off and wept. Then a beautiful boarder girl asked me if I was OK (it's always women who stop to help). She was Dutch, her name was Tina, she was on holiday with her banker buddies from Canary Wharf, and she was completely lovely. Tina, if you ever read this - THANK YOU.
By the time we made it to the bar, my foot was hurting so much that I couldn't put any weight on it.
Sooo... the following day, the Swiss doctors were brilliant. Torn ligament in my foot - fairly simple, one might imagine. But no. They kept doing X-rays. So many X-rays that I was starting to wonder if I'd done really bad damage to my foot.
But they kept laughing. And then it transpired that the X-ray had revealed a needle - a sewing needle (you can make out the eye) embedded quite closely against my fourth metatarsal.
I mean - really? WTF? How could I not have noticed stepping on a needle - however many years ago it happened? The doctors are still none the wiser.
Needle aside, it was one of the best holidays ever, and I'd like to thank my fantastic father (who used to be a spy - details to come in a future blog) for arranging the whole wonderful shebang. Thanks Dad, you're a star xxx
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