Sobriety for seven very long days

Apologies for the delay in my update, have been nursing a particularly violent chest and throat infection. A trip to the doctors and £40 lighter in pocket confirmed my worst fears when Dr Blanc uttered the words "you 'ave penicillin, no dreenkin' for seven days".

Sitting in the Isba with a strawberry cordial is no fun when surrounded by everyone skulling pints and enjoying flaming sambucas. Although I was rather taken with the fact that I woke up every morning without the usual sense of doom, could remember conversations from the night before and felt hydrated for the first time in two months, I still became cosily reacquainted with a bottle of Smirnoff last Saturday and felt huge relief that I could once again start blaming everything on the Mutzig.

Gimps, whips and dodgy prossies

Pornstar theme night saw a massive fancy dress turnout. Binbags and tinfoil again, were the staple of everyone's outfit. Special mentions must go to Chef Osh, who sweated it out as Chef Becki's personal Gimp. A kind-hearted mistress she occasionally allowed him to remove the orange from his mouth so he could smoke and drink. Applause also to Fast Eddie for running around dressed as a durex and Handyman Joe's rather large trouser bulge. Dirk Diggler had nothing on Joe's crotch, and he became rather attached to his extension, patting it affectionately all night. Said extension is now hanging up on bedroom wall along with Shayleys crack whip. Paddy was a bit too comfortable as prostitute 'Honeysuckle' and seemed to enjoy a fast, furious fake 'service' from 'big sexy' pornstar Symon.

A day in the life

In response to your e-mails enquiring about season work, I have outlined below a typical day in the life of a chalet host. Depending on the night before, it can go one or two ways…

Good Day, Bad Day

Gradually wake up from a blissful 7 hours sleep, have long hot shower, skip upstairs to kitchen for a hearty feed before serving breakfast to polite, helpful customers who stack their plates. Clean rooms that are tidy, with towels already hung up and beds already made. Head up to mountain where last night's dump of snow has provided orgasmic conditions. Have full day on mountain then a refreshing beer in bar to congratulate yourself on how active and sporty you are. Have an hour's power-nap to prepare yourself for the evening ahead. Marvel at bright eyes and clear complexion in mirror whilst getting dressed. Sail through dinner, entertaining guests with your sparkling conversation and witty anecdotes. Down a couple of cheeky vodkas and hit the bars lookin' good and feelin' great. Not know it yet, but bad day is imminent. Get ripped from your drunken stupor by alarm clock, which has been sounding in your ear for 20 minutes. Grope blindly for water as you curse the bear that beat you up again. Realise you have 2 minutes to get to work and stagger to kitchen smelling like 'last nite'. Autopilot your way through breakfast and nearly have nervous breakdown brought on by rude guests demanding 'proper toast' and 'more coffee'. Realise your t-shirt is on inside out and you have a pair of knickers stuck to your trouser leg. Try not to vomit having to chisel crap off toilet bowls and experiencing splashback from loo brush. Collapse back into bed, watch a video for the 1000th time with one eye open emitting the occasional whimper to let roommates know you haven't actually died. Shower off aroma of stale beer and fags, trying not to concentrate too much on newly acquired beer belly. Serve dinner and notice guests seem a lot more friendly (they are smashed on unlimited red wine). Feeling less like you've been the victim of a gang beating, retire early to bed looking forward to your 'good day'.

Courchevel 1875 - Guy's Snow House

Host Guy has spent the better part of three days completing a new drinking venue; a most impressive igloo accessed via sledge now stands at the back of the hotel. Plans to christen the snow hut with certain nocturnal activities are already underway.

Hurray! Another theme night.

Next up is Superheroes and Hollywood stars night, so I now have to make myself a Princess Leia outfit and cajole my hair into those side bun things and contemplate my 'bad day'.

But before I go…

We're losing one of the original pact members. Poor Paddy is plastered up to his elbow with a broken wrist after suffering a particularly nasty tumble last week. An entertaining, funny, great guy he will be missed by us all. But before he goes we'll be heading down to 1650 to see him off in style, Au revoir Padster, and may the force be with you.

Report from Simone Down - Natives Resort Reporter in Courchevel

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