How to Have the Worst Ski Holiday of Your life

As we’re always on the hunt for interesting, funny and original ski blogs, today we’re particularly proud to have our friend Belle writing a guest post for us. Hope you all enjoy it as much as we did! You can read more of Belle de Neige’s tales of catastrophe, sex and squalor from the alpine underbelly on her seasonnaire blog and, soon, in a book.

Hi Ski Accommodation Finder fans. My name is Belle de Neige, and I’m a chalet bitch…

I’m also a seasonnaire blogger who spends most of her time shooting her mouth of about how ghastly chalet guests are (you name it, I’ve had it all – rude, picky, hairy, leaving period-stained pants in the middle of the floor for me to pick up that sort of thing.)

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Of course, punters are just people. I know that. Ordinary hard working people who spend years locked in an office just so they can afford five minutes skiing a year. Of course they want it to be perfect. Of course they want to get what they paid for. They deserve to. Hell, I’d be furious if I paid all that money and arrived to brown grass and muddy fields and found myself greeted by a fusty red-eyed teenager in an ice cold, dirty chalet that smelt strongly of sewage.

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Being a bit of a season veteran, I don’t claim to know it all, but believe me – I’ve seen some things. From the time I texted the word ‘wankstain’ to one of my guests, by accident, to the steaming drunk idiot who let himself into the wrong chalet and climbed into bed with our guest’s eight year old son. There are a lot of pot-holes associated with chalets and the truth is the average mid-range ski holiday is nothing more than a massive turd sprinkled with glitter and served up by a spotty oik, fresh out of school.

With this in mind, I thought, you poor punters need as much help as you can get. And so I have assembled for you a guide – let’s call it a ‘How Not To’ guide, in order that you may, this season, be saved from the horror of having a completely rubbish ski holiday.

How to have the worst ski holiday of your life’

  • Fly at the crack of sparrow fart
    Start your holiday with a nice exhaustion head ache and hypersensitivity to the screaming tears and tantrums of all the children on board the aeroplane. This is something you will have to suffer whether you have your own sproglets or not. There’s always one at the back of every plane making a high-pitched whining noise, as if it’s being tortured with a scalpel.
  • Forget about Easy Jet’s miserly baggage allowance.
    “What? You didn’t book your ski boots in as ‘sports equipment’ online before you arrived? That’ll be ninety-four million pounds, then, please.”
  • Book your holiday in a remote resort which requires a five-hour coach transfer from the nearest airport.
    Not only will this take a nice generous chunk out of your slope time at the start and end of your holiday, but you will also be treated to the wonders of, abject boredom, back ache, and of course the screaming children have now turned into vomiting children as soon as you hit those mountain roads. Lovely.
  • Don’t book the sproglets into ski school.
    Instead, spend your entire holiday fielding Damian’s tantrums because he wants to play computer games. Once you actually get your 7 year-old out onto the mountain, take a wrong turn and then spend the next four hours coaxing the screaming progeny (now prostrate on the piste, digging his nails in with fear and purple in the face with rage) down an icy black run that you accidently took a wrong turn onto.
  • Don’t book a Nanny
    So now you’ve found little Damian hasn’t really taken much to skiing. There’s also the problem that he’s decided to be mysteriously sick at exactly 8.47am every morning up until which time he point blank refuses to put his ski boots on. After three days of sitting in the chalet with him while he plays computer games you cave in and ask your chalet host if you can book a ‘last minute Nanny’. During half term.

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Surprised you can’t find one are you? How many fucking Nannies do you think there are in the Alps?

  • Don’t book any ski lessons for yourself.
    You haven’t being skiing since 1989, and you only went for a couple of days on a work do, but that’s fine. You’re sure you’ll be able to pick it up again without much trouble. It’s just like riding a bike, isn’t it?

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You’ll remember those wise words with laser-like clarity when you’re lying in a gelatinous heap at the foot of the mountain with a broken collar bone on day 2 of your holiday.

  • Don’t invest in any decent kit.
    You only ski once a year so there’s no point on splashing out on any of this branded nonsense. Frost bite doesn’t really hurt that much once the toe has actually fallen off, anyway. And you’ll be fine in those highly-absorbent denim jeans and woolly mittens from Primarnie, won’t you? Also…those 13-year-old rental boots that have been worn by over twenty thousand different people during their lifetime sort of hurt your feet a bit. Can you swap them for a larger size please?
  • Opt for a non-ski-in-ski-out chalet with no shuttle bus
    Enjoy that arctic expedition to and from the piste twice a day. Particularly when you arrive at ski school to find Damian’s forgotten his gloves and picked up the wrong skis.
  • Leave your manners at the door
    Treat your chalet host like some sort of brainless, domestic mannequin. Ask her accusingly why there isn’t more snow. Turn up for breakfast at 10.35 every morning and ask for a full fry up. Leave Damian’s puke on the sofa cushions for her to clean up. Don’t ever say thank you. And of course, don’t tip her. Enjoy using your toothbrush, but remember it doubles nicely as a bog brush when you’re out skiing.

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  • Photo sources: dailymail.co.uk – quickmeme.com – westsoundmodern.wordpress.com – medicmagic.net