Ski Craft

"Goggles? Glasses? Suncream? Gloves? Both Gloves? Liftpass? Are you SURE? Chairlift chocolate? Helmet?" If you've been on a family skiing holiday you should be familiar with this checklist hollered by parents at 5 to 9 from the doorway of a cosy mountain chalet.

This is the moment when little Johnny discovers he's only got one glove. In a flash the ski-boots that were carefully and laboriously fastened by daddy are off and strewn across the boot-room as little Johnny hares up the stairs to hunt for glove number two. Whilst he's gone, the chairlift chocolate is passed round, for when that elevenses feeling hits from a cold and foggy skilift. Johnny returns and there are minutes left in the rush to make it to ski-school on time, but oh dear, disaster, Lucy needs the toilet. Mum tuts, dad sighs and the second pair of boots are catapulted across the room, Lucy clatters upstairs to the toilet. This chaotic scene has become a part of the first-day-ritual of the family skiing holiday,everyone is ready to go and there is always something not quite right.

Imagine organising several children (and adults too), for a day of sliding down a mountain. There is no opportunity to go back to the chalet if you want to get in as much skiing as possible and everybody needs to have their own googles, helmet, gloves, suncream etc (see list above). Can you see the challenge? In my experience families fall into two groups, those who faff till half past nine and those who get the first lift of the day.

I have been lucky enough to go on a family skiing holiday every year of my life so far and I'm proud to say, in my family, mornings are run like a military operation. It all comes down to one word: Training. From a young age my parents rattled off some version of the above check-list until they were blue in the face. As a result none of the three kids in my family dared leave anything behind for fear of abusive tutting from Mum.

In my family we call it Ski Craft. This encompasses tactical lift-queuing, knowing not to take someone else's skis from the boot-room and all things organisational. With ski craft it seems everyone can sit back, relax and enjoy sliding down a mountain for six days.

Last week I was lucky enough to visit my seasonnaire sister in Meribel. This was a ski-trip unlike any other I've ever been on, I went alone. I had a fantastic time but must admit i missed the family-ski-holiday-vibe. I missed bickering over where to ski and where to eat - note that these are the only things worth worrying about on a ski holiday. Not to mention returning to the chalet at 4 o clock to a freshly made tea and cake, possibly my favourite thing about skiing holidays beside the actual skiing. These are just the everyday staples of a ski-holiday, really its about the silly stories and farcical moments that have made my family's holiday history so fun.

The culprits of childhood trauma and adult entertainment are without a doubt button lifts, and toilet emergencies...

..."Whatever you do, don't let go" Mum told my 4 year old brother as he toddled off to ski-school. What a good little boy Max was, he had Mum's words resounding in his head, he held on for dear life, the button whizzed round the wheel at the end and he was catapulted into a snowdrift, his ski-instructor hastily hiked back up the slope to rescue him and my mother watched from the chairlift above...

...Aged 9 (or so) My sister had waited and waited and waited for the toilet, finally a welcoming mountain restaurant was reached and she ran (or more like hobbled which is all you can do in ski-boots) for the loos. Tearing off the many layers of ski-wear, she made it just in time, in her hurry she neglected to lift the lid...

...There doesn't seem to be a story like this about me? I suppose my best trick was knowing how to spill hot-chocolate down whichever item of skiwear happened to be new or pale. Really, as the youngest I learnt Ski Craft by example...