Slowly losing the power of though faster than I can ask for another pint...

I was sitting on the Bellevarde Chair the other day wondering what I could write about, something funny, clever, perhaps a little satirical, that would keep everyone interested and up to date, and I came up with, well nothing to be honest.

Perhaps it is because I am slowly losing the power of thought, that all that knowledge built up at University is draining away faster than I can ask for another pint? For about an hour I wallowed in the pit of despond surrounding my loss of all charisma, persona and witticisms when Flatmate 1 gave a deep sigh and mused "I wonder what the poor people are doing today".

Not sitting in Dicks and writing emails that's for sure, or speeding down the Grande Motte with a lunatic grin on their features, hurling abuse at every French man trying to get in my way. Nope, probably sitting in an office in London, or standing nose to armpit on the tube trying not to catch the eyes of the mad man the other side of the carriage with a tendency to burst into snippits of Ella Fitzgerald. Not that I am gloating.

All sunshine and no clouds

After the hectic days and manic nights that is Christmas and New Year (and more importantly my birthday), the resort seems to have quietened down a little, or so I thought. With the arrival of a few inches of the white stuff I for one had been making more of an effort to actually get out of bed in daylight hours and do something worthy of being described as exercise, rather than extensive shopping.

Unfortunately, with it being so hard and everything, many seem to have been having accidents, and people here are dropping like flies. Flatemate 2 has already broken his thumb, cut his lip, destroyed his liver, and had a haircut. Every morning I wake up and peer out of the window praying for cloud and snow, so I have an excuse to move to the sofa, switch on the kettle and spend the day in front of the TV.But it's clear blue skies and it doesn't look like it's going to change. The problem with all this newfound exercise is 1) I am always tired, and boy do my thighs ache, and 2) I am always tired, because I still seem to have a drinking problem.

Last night was work dinner night - free and boozy. [Is it only me that thinks "drink as much as humanely possible, make a complete prat out of myself and then fall over" whenever there is a mention of free booze? Anyway, that was about the score]

At least I was not the one standing on the table in the Melting Pot with no bra on, although was the one who decided to stitch up one work mate by making him strip.... I do love it when men lose their clothes...

Like raves had never gone out of fashion

Boring of sitting down and necking red wine, Flamate 1 and I decided to go looking for more adventurous locations and more booze, and stumbled into the Moris to discover that everyone was wearing frightening white Baby Grows and waving luminous glow sticks like raves had never gone out of fashion. White Night was the theme, and everyone was smashed.

Even I find it quite scary to see grown men in a new light, the one that! their mothers saw them in for the first few months of their lives, tucked into an all in one and waving their arms around in the air whilst making gurgling noises and sucking at drinks through straws. Especially scary when these are men who I thought were responsible (not mentioning any names Heath, Alex and Stevie... oops)

After locating a black marker and scribbling obscenities on the backs of all my friends, we went onto Pacific where Balloons were shoved down fronts and I had a boob fight with one ski instructor - which of course I won.

Heath's new love juice

At this point I just have to mention Heath's new Love Juice. Pink, sweet, sticky and potent, I am not sure what you put in it, but it doesn't mix with the antibiotics that Dr Allen has put me on..... (that is my excuse for all ensuing behaviour).

Talking about ensuing behaviour I ought to stop there, because I remember little and know that I wasn't terribly well behaved. Club 21 with more men in Baby Grows where I think I lost everyone and then Dicks where I finally had to call it a day because I could no longer see.

I am not sure what the occasion was, whether White Night was a code name for something more exotic, or whether I was seeing ghosts as I walked home, but I think that I can safely say that everyone in Val d'Isere last night was absolutely without a doubt completely arseholed. And I have to go now because this live band playing in Dicks is making me feel sick.

Till later readers.... I remain your faithful drunk tabloid press.

Izzy

Report from Izzy Rogers - Natives Resort Reporter in Val d'Isere

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