Drowning on ice

While the rest of the country braved blizzards Edinburgh remained resolutely dreary but dig up the daffodils and lob a few leeks St David’s Day has brought with it blue skies and sunshine.  And a little ground frost, but who’s complaining when the world is once more in Technicolor?  I cycled into work for the first time in eons and the cycle path was filled with smiling dog walkers and babies in buggies. 

This week I’m a single mother having made the rash move of giving my husband a ski holiday for his Christmas present.  At the time it was to thank him having held the fort so much in the Autumn but as his departure loomed I began to regret my magnanimity.  I have been a ski widow for the last two weeks anyway. Every evening has seen him glued to the Winter Olympics and although the rest of us are fans we are not quite so snow obsessed. 

When we first met I knew what I was letting myself in for and tried to force myself to share his passion.  The first few ski trips were utter disasters.  A few weeks in beginners lessons were never going to get me to a level where we could enjoy skiing together so in a fairly dramatic move we went travelling for a year after getting married which concluded with a ski season in Courchevel.  I wouldn’t say I was a brilliant skier but I had no fear and could keep up with him which was enough until I saw a video of myself on the last day of the season and realised I had nothing like his style.  I am now an obsessive snowboarder.  I love it.  Really love it - apart from T bars which I hate having knocked my teeth out on one a few years ago – but since having our second child ski holidays abroad are exorbitant and Scottish ski areas are dominated by teeth destroying T bars.

Consequently I am at home juggling work and childcare while he is out in France skiing his heart out by day and drinking cold beers by night.  In the run up to his departure I was so jealous I had no qualms in abandoning him, firstly for the launch of Yo Sushi at Harvey Nichols and latterly impromptu drinks at a friends house but since he’s gone I have to say that it’s not that bad at all. The girls are quite excited at the prospect of a week alone with me and I am quite enjoying having ownership of the house, loading the dishwasher in the way I think makes most sense and filling the fridge according to whether things are for packed lunch or breakfast rather than whatever weird method he uses.

Saturday we were at a friends house for kids tea concluding with several glasses of wine and yesterday we were again at the ice rink returning to snuggle up by the fire in front of Dancing on Ice.  As a special treat I have let the girls sleep in our bed while their father is away, I had thought they would fall asleep long before the Dancing on Ice results at 9.30pm but they were horribly perky (possibly a result of the usually banned Irn Bru) and it was me begging them to be quiet as I put the  TV off and lights out.  Needless to say they weren’t quite so perky first thing this morning and tiredness inevitably led to grumpy arguments and the seven year old hitting her little sister twice before we got out of the door.  Brings a whole new meaning to ‘pinch, punch, first of the month’ …