Guide To Ski-Ing

(An Eight Year-old’s) Guide To Ski-ing (as written in the half-term essay for the class)

This half-term we went on holiday

Daddy said that we were off to ski

I’d no idea what he was on about

It seemed like a barmy idea to me

 

There was problems at the airport

When we was flying out that day

The baggage-handlers went on strike

And in the lounge we had to stay

 

Daddy spent a long time worrying

About whether there’d be any snow

Because even if there wasn’t

He said we’d still be forced to go

 

But when we got there it was ice and powder

The weather was absolutely freezing

And even Mummy was quite happy

Until my sister started sneezing

 

So she was confined to bed

Which didn’t really bother me

But the rest of us got out our equipment

And got ourselves prepared to ski

 

We all had bright blue puffa jackets

Over the top of thermal ski-suits

We had goggles and gloves with toggles

And ski-pants and pairs of massive boots

 

And we drove off to the ski-lift

To the top of the mountain if you will

Then slid all the way back down again

It’s a thing they call “downhill”

 

I couldn’t see the point of what we did

Slaloming down that dangerous drop

We’d only just get to the safety of the bottom

Then we’d simply head back to the top!

 

And we did that all the blooming day

Repeatedly riding up and sliding down

Oh, and drinking lots of gluh-wein

Before we made it back to town

 

Then we all came back in high spirits

We’d had a good day - that was easy to see

Then we ate and drank all night

In something known as “apres-ski” 

 

It must have been the Alpine atmosphere

Or the charms of where we stayed

Because Mummy became suspicious

And caught Daddy kissing the chalet-maid

 

Well, she wasn’t very happy

And shouted at him, called him a beast

And wasn’t going to put up with it

Nor let him think he could go off-piste

 

Next day we was under a bit of a cloud

And Daddy said he wasn’t having any fun

So he stalked off all on his own

To tackle something called a “black run”

 

Apparently he wasn’t supposed to do that

Everyone told him that it wasn’t any joke

But he still went off and hit a tree

And that’s how his leg got broke

 

So he was carted off to the hospital

In another town in France

Which was when Mummy discovered

That we didn’t have enough insurance

 

He was put in traction and in plaster

To heal his fractured limb

The credit card bill just grew and grew

And things were looking rather grim.

 

Then the weather turned much worse

With raging blizzards that made us blanch

And we were trapped for two days

The town was buried by an avalanche

 

And when we finally made it home

Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t even talk

I don’t think we’ll be going ski-ing again

Well – not until Daddy learns to walk.

 Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2022